What kind of man am I?
Why, the kind who buys flowers, for his house. And then uses the arguably tacky green plastic pitcher as a vase.
The kind who writes prompt thank-you notes. The kind who sees romantic comedies alone. The kind who reads "Shopgirl" and likes it all, except thinks maybe the end was rushed. The kind who tears out drink recipes from his Cosmo because Virgin Raspberry Lemonicello looks and sounds splendid. The kind who reads Bitch and then suddenly finds himself very concerned about his favorite Slayer episode and what exactly that says about his support of a patriarchal society. The kind that likes to run for a long time, until his lungs hurt. The kind that likes to write when it comes easily to him. That kind that would rather be busy than not. The kind who wants to take road trips and have grand plans, but often doesn't quite get to it. The kind who goes in spurts, in books, in movies, in interests. The kind who owns a banjo and has worn a skirt. The kind who can't think of a thing to say when you ask.