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I don’t need your ice. All I want is just a pack of Oreo.

This post was written on Sunday after my meeting with a long lost special someone, but things get a bit messy on my daily basis so I kept pushing it longer.

My super Mr. Oreo, Mr. Thonglor,  Mr. Handsome,  etc, or whatever you want to call him, is one of those guys who enjoys simple things and values his money. He isn’t one of those big showy types we see in the hotel. The guy eats street food and 7/11 coffee. Unlike those big shots I know, he wouldn’t be showing off at the party with fake Rolex or fake Dolce and Gabbana   jeans. This is a man who would spend money on real stuff but yet live a “cheap ass” life style. I finally dragged him to Starbucks with me and he said my latte wasn’t worth a penny.  He had his at some normal coffee shop and he still thought he’d be happy with instant coffee at home.

I am sure expensive gifts would blow your mind. Women love beautiful stuff and these pretty little things cost the fortune. I had it all. My ex-boyfriend drove across the province to buy me the shirt I wanted; expensive white shirt with golden buttons was only 4k ish + gas to go to Central Pattaya and back+ hotel+ food. A man can throw cash in my face, he can drive across the city to get me one normal t-shirt, and he can order a pair of shoes from another country only because it’s my birthday.   It swept me off my feet! I appreciate his afford, but didn’t mean anything at all when the end was just another sad story.

There is a scientific study you could find from Google proves that once a man pays for every single damn thing, his brain will automatically assumes that you’re his and he has every right to control you. He owns you.

These Oreo from 7/11 made history for me. If I am asked what was the most romantic thing a man do to me? My question is going to be the same no matter how many years pass by. The romantic part wasn’t the surprise when I saw a small pack of Oreo in my bag. The idea of him, thinking about me when he was at 7/11 and knew I love this shit was just so sweet. Then put in my bag so that I could eat at work. It didn’t take much at all. I don’t know about other girls out there, but for me just to know that someone thought of me and delivered what I like without nagging and bitching, that’s like top of the world.

I don’t need a LV handbag from my boy. I don’t want any more imported shoes or made to order bags. These material things aren’t hard to get. They would take me a few months to have them all. And for some girls it would take only a minute or two to swipe the card. The fact that every time you look at the pride and proud and get a full smile on your face because you buy them with your money, out of your sweat, with passion for fashion, it’s like a sign saying “I am the owner of me”. How could you appreciate the hard work of Karl Lagarfeld when you looked at his master-piece and all you could perceive was HIS MONEY, HIS FACE, HIS, HIM. I call it INVASION!

I am done being a girlfriend of a rich kid or high rollers. I just need a decent man with manner. A gentle man, who knows when to pull out the card, a man who realized that credit card isn’t a birthday gift, a man who notices what his girl likes to eat or what she cannot eat.

I can’t speak for every woman. I just raise my voice and share you some ideas of impressing a woman. I even told Mr. Oreo that what he did was the best thing a man did to me. He was surprise he said “IDIDN’T KNOW THAT A SMALL PACK OF OREO COULD MAKE A WOMAN HAPPY” I don’t know about other women, but it makes me happy every time I think about it.

I don’t need a mark of being owned by someone. I don’t want a sign saying ‘taken by’, just because a man buys me stuff. I will totally take a ring when time is right. At this very moment, just someone who know what kind of coffee I drink or what snacks I like and put on my 90s cheesy songs would make me feel so god damn special. I don’t want to be any more of a VIP. I am already very important for myself.

WIM

LOVE YOU,TOO

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