I’m not God’s Gift to man, She’s God’s Gift to me.

I’m not God’s Gift to man, She’s God’s Gift to me.

To be honest, I wasn’t sure of it all. Wasn’t sure if I could love her, wasn’t sure if I was just fooling around with her, and to be honest I wasn’t even sure if I could accord her the respect she deserved.

But that was before i truly knew her.

Yes, she is different. Hmmm not the couture wannabes, butt swinging chick who spouts with as heavily an accent I would think she’s watched too much American TV. Nor is she the type of egotistical bitch with her nose stuck on the ceiling, wishing to make it big one day without having to lift a finger but to discreetly open her legs. Well in fact she isn’t even the typical girl I’ve fallen for, whose fashion sense would be driven by blogshops, outdated european fashion and a insatiable hunger for LV and PRADA.

She’s just her.

With her own sense of fashion, unparalleled by any I’ve met. Who speaks the purest Singlish and doesn’t give 2 hoots about what others think. A girl whose ego is so moderate that even praises from a line of guys rounding the globe wouldn’t make her flinch to think the world of herself. Someone who wants to work hard, give it all she can and hopefully one day make her mark in this crazy crazy world.

A petite, very beautiful girl, who’s unsuspecting demeanor is like the sun in the middle of a forest, loving, practical, caring. And whose only flaw is her carelessness and bumping into tables and chairs and getting bruises along the way.

She’s the kind of girl who can make an entire room of tired, weary and cynical assholes, sing and dance and laugh even at the very cynicism they have chosen to indulge in so firmly.

Maybe that’s why I’m crazy about her. Even the slightest giggle, grin, smile, beams within me and rattles my heart.

Perhaps that’s why i bothered, and perhaps that’s why I’ve been rewarded with her love, her concern, her touches, her kisses and her little hugs.