Some Thoughts on; by Bekah.
Point being, ladies and gentlemen, there is no set way to woo. There is no formula, though the dry champagne and fresh snickerdoodles and the Bubble Bath are definite contenders; attributes of a thorough seduction. But a seduction is not Romance, even. Romance itself is practically not even Romance. Romance is delicate. Intanglible, unpredictable. Unplanned. It could be a clever juxtaposition of place, air temperature and consumables, even. It could be a Milky Way, as opposed to The. It could be hot and in your hand after he split it in half, giving you the bigger piece. It could be the joke thereafter when you’ve managed to get it in your hair.
It’s the unplanned way in which hands are held, getting lost. Tripping over wet newspapers and falling into seemingly unwilling arms: Romance. It just happens. Try and grab it, make it, you will laugh. It will be a laughable version of a thing you once saw on TV that your mind told your lips was love. It’s in your blood, even, and when it boils, want/need/yay, you know it’s there. We should all kiss more illogically.