It seems the words that aren't prethought are the best to touch the page. The ancient letters and the lungs of a golden silent age. Two more winters and the dire wolves still haven't learned to stay. I'm walking but the talking is so unnecessarily gay. Women want sex just like the men. Or more. I'd heard it but I hahadn't realised Madonna whore. It must be hard being them and constantly dealing the the inadequacy of men while being (from their perception) powerless to take their romantic destiny into their own hands. It is up to me. Up to I, the man of men, the Daniel Llewellyn Blundell to make their dreams come true. You've always said you love women. When you see a beautiful one you want to give her the world. So give her what she wants. Give her romance, give her challenge, give her arousal and intrigue and intensity and steal her mind away to somewhere more magical than this, because everybody wants to escape. We're trying, always, to distract ourselves from the banal humdrum of existence, craving sex , connection and ccompanionship, and unfortunately for the lady folk they don't seem to get much say in the men who try to seduce them, usually with the sway of a arthritis ridden camel. You can make this happen. YOU are charming, good looking,  humble (haha) and intelligent. You can make all of their dreams come true. Don't do it for you. Do it for them. Do it for women, the beautiful loving creatures that sit alone and yearning in their beds waiting for your words and touch to lift them  from their woe. It's up to you. You are a gift. Your character, your personality, your dick, your fingers your voice and your eyes are all a gift that you can give to women. Do it for them. It makes sense.