One (of many) of the things I appreciate about my man (there’s no way to write that sentence without sounding pretentious so just go with it) is when he orders for both of us in a restaurant. We look at the menu, I tell him what I’ll have and he handles it with the server.
There’s something “mannish” about it that I like.
I’m sitting in a restaurant next to what looks like a corporate power couple. I hear them discuss the menu then when the server arrives the woman orders for them both.
That seemingly inconsequential action immediately seemed to diminish him and thrust her into a position of authority. The server deferred to her every time he approached the table.
It’s like she peed on the tree of their relationship and everyone understands who the king of their jungle is.
That Lion with a vagina.
I enjoy my man opening my car door, pulling out my chair, holding my hand while walking into a crowd before me, ordering for us and generally being my man being a man. Doing manly things.
That is a turn on.
The bigger turn on is the comfort of being able to pull off the cloak of motherhood, boss, friend and slip into a secure position of being a cared for and well protected woman.
That sh*t is hot. (and please miss me with that “I don’t need no man doing nothing for me” rhetoric because shut up yes you do stop it)
It’s every human beings responsibility to become self sufficient; but do women know how to enjoy being women? Do you know the beauty of vulnerabilities being handled? The thrill of watching your man “manning?”
Or are we so busy proving our independence that we’re okay dining on an appetizer of emasculated genitalia we keep ordering to the table?