What physical features do you love most about yourself?
- Thread starter QueenSheba
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My "good" hair 
, my dark skin, my height (my brothers are all under 6ft)
I hate my smile but females say they like it
, my dark skin, my height (my brothers are all under 6ft)I hate my smile but females say they like it
Can it be spiritual? I love me, my soul, my essence, I love that no matter where you go and who you see there will never be another me, I'm unique as are you. I am the father of my sons as was my father of his and his father before him, you are the Mother of daughters as was your mother and her mother before her.
Keeping with the topic I would say my eyes, it's through the eyes that the soul seeps outwardly to the surface
off I go to make a Chai Latte
. . . . Wanna add a poem I heard today in class
Bury Me in a Free Land
Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
Make me a grave where’er you will,
In a lowly plain, or a lofty hill;
Make it among earth’s humblest graves,
But not in a land where men are slaves.
I could not rest if around my grave
I heard the steps of a trembling slave;
His shadow above my silent tomb
Would make it a place of fearful gloom.
I could not rest if I heard the tread
Of a coffle gang to the shambles led,
And the mother’s shriek of wild despair
Rise like a curse on the trembling air.
I could not sleep if I saw the lash
Drinking her blood at each fearful gash,
And I saw her babes torn from her breast,
Like trembling doves from their parent nest.
I’d shudder and start if I heard the bay
Of bloodhounds seizing their human prey,
And I heard the captive plead in vain
As they bound afresh his galling chain.
If I saw young girls from their mother’s arms
Bartered and sold for their youthful charms,
My eye would flash with a mournful flame,
My death-paled cheek grow red with shame.
I would sleep, dear friends, where bloated might
Can rob no man of his dearest right;
My rest shall be calm in any grave
Where none can call his brother a slave.
I ask no monument, proud and high,
To arrest the gaze of the passers-by;
All that my yearning spirit craves,
Is bury me not in a land of slaves.
Keeping with the topic I would say my eyes, it's through the eyes that the soul seeps outwardly to the surface
off I go to make a Chai Latte
. . . . Wanna add a poem I heard today in class
Bury Me in a Free Land
Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
Make me a grave where’er you will,
In a lowly plain, or a lofty hill;
Make it among earth’s humblest graves,
But not in a land where men are slaves.
I could not rest if around my grave
I heard the steps of a trembling slave;
His shadow above my silent tomb
Would make it a place of fearful gloom.
I could not rest if I heard the tread
Of a coffle gang to the shambles led,
And the mother’s shriek of wild despair
Rise like a curse on the trembling air.
I could not sleep if I saw the lash
Drinking her blood at each fearful gash,
And I saw her babes torn from her breast,
Like trembling doves from their parent nest.
I’d shudder and start if I heard the bay
Of bloodhounds seizing their human prey,
And I heard the captive plead in vain
As they bound afresh his galling chain.
If I saw young girls from their mother’s arms
Bartered and sold for their youthful charms,
My eye would flash with a mournful flame,
My death-paled cheek grow red with shame.
I would sleep, dear friends, where bloated might
Can rob no man of his dearest right;
My rest shall be calm in any grave
Where none can call his brother a slave.
I ask no monument, proud and high,
To arrest the gaze of the passers-by;
All that my yearning spirit craves,
Is bury me not in a land of slaves.
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My ears
Girls love playing with my ear
Girls love playing with my ear
TheIsleofMan
All Star
I'm (what's your height giggle giggle giggle) tall so I got that going for me
but good looking women are harder to please (in NYC) I swear I bag more out of town women than NYC women
but good looking women are harder to please (in NYC) I swear I bag more out of town women than NYC women
KW yallCan it be spiritual? I love me, my soul, my essence, I love that no matter where you go and who you see there will never be another me, I'm unique as are you. I am the father of my sons as was my father of his and his father before him, you are the Mother of daughters as was your mother and her mother before her.
Keeping with the topic I would say my eyes, it's through the eyes that the soul seeps outwardly to the surface
off I go to make a Chai Latte
. . .
Ladies better make yall move on this man before its to late
N/H
I'm (what's your height giggle giggle giggle) tall so I got that going for me
It's true. Too many simps gas them up.
TheIsleofMan
All Star
I just see it as them having more options, it's understandable (but they're usually the ones fukking with the same tired dudes or are single) But I do the same shyt too lol. I don't have any hoes right now but will ignore a decent joint just because hoes are everywhere but then by the end of the night the hoes are either taken or never wanted to be taken
. This shyt really is a game tho on some winner takes all type shyt, survival of the fittest 
. You just gotta know how to play it, know when you've won, know when you've lost and know when you need to speak up lol(I'm trying 
)
I just see it as them having more options, it's understandable (but they're usually the ones fukking with the same tired dudes or are single) But I do the same shyt too lol. I don't have any hoes right now but will ignore a decent joint just because hoes are everywhere but then by the end of the night the hoes are either taken or never wanted to be taken
Be like me and mess with women that ain't about the games that come.from elsewhere. In NYC, hypergamy never been so apparent. Few eat well, most are scavengers. Don't be a scavenger and meet women that ain't about that birdbrain life. Even it means going outside the tri state area.
Show meYep, my eyelashes n my lips make women go