“I love men. Rather, I love little parts of their bodies, not the perfect parts, but rather their odd features and their unique traits that make of them stand out of this cookie cutter world we live in. Throw a name at me, and I can instantly tell you which feature makes my heart go thumpedy-thump. Cropper Rowe: lucious, mocha brown-colored mole on the back of his neck. Derek: long yet narrow sideburns. Thorsten: thick nose, which he broke skiing. Milo: jet black hair, slicked back to reveal forehead and a small dimple. Vincent: lower jawline as it curves up to his ears and the way his stubble grows on it. Thayer: his waist and how he wears his jeans low enough to expose his appendectomy scar. And I love Eugene s eyes. Not that they are clear blue, but that they have a kind shape. It sounds cliché, but they are soft, and when I look into them, I feel I ve known him forever. The sadness still lingers deep inside them, but he smiles a lot. Maybe I m mistaken and life has been kind to him. Maybe he s the positive kind of fellow for whom smiling comes easily, despite it all.”
“What are men to rocks and mountains?”
“A lot of men wouldn t like being called a romantic. It s not macho enough. Quite often men are fools.”
“How many men with a microphone can tell you what he loves the most?”
“I believe that all men are just overgrown boys with deep problems communicating.”
“I never hated a man enough to give him his diamonds back.”