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Well, my wonderful mood is still going.
There is an exercise I recently remembered, for "women of independent means" to stop projecting a cold and repelling demeanour. Every man you see, be he old or young, fat or thin, bald or graying, rich or poor --- pay him a mental compliment. On something.
So I walked to school this morning. There were men with cool leather jackets, plenty of those. I like leather jackets. There were men with nice shoes. There were men in nice cars. There were men who had a confident stride, and men who looked like they knew where they were going and who they were in life. There were men with good posture, and there were men who were obviously intelligent. I was smiling from ear to ear at them, and damn, did I ever feel glowing, radiant, filled with joy.
And they looked back at me. Construction crewmen, perhaps bolstered by the courage of having their fellows around them, called out to me, "Hello!"
"Hello!"
"How are you?"
"Absolutely fantastic, and I wish you the same!"
When I wish you joy, people, this is what I mean. Or more so. Joy, joy, joy, life is strikingly awesome.
You may not believe me. Well, if you cannot empathize, your choice. But I wish you the same.
ETA: That game of paying every man you see a sincere silent compliment is an interesting one. Even if you do not believe in any psychic reception on their part of your thoughts, the game achieves three things, at least: (a) it makes you look around, looking alert, friendly, interested rather than absorbed and projecting a Somebody Else's Problem field; (b) it makes you make eye contact, giving the gentlemen a chance to notice your lovely demeanour; (c) the repetition of "I like..." in your head puts a smile on your face almost unconsciously, and, according to extensive polls, men find that the sexiest part of a woman is her smile.
There is an exercise I recently remembered, for "women of independent means" to stop projecting a cold and repelling demeanour. Every man you see, be he old or young, fat or thin, bald or graying, rich or poor --- pay him a mental compliment. On something.
So I walked to school this morning. There were men with cool leather jackets, plenty of those. I like leather jackets. There were men with nice shoes. There were men in nice cars. There were men who had a confident stride, and men who looked like they knew where they were going and who they were in life. There were men with good posture, and there were men who were obviously intelligent. I was smiling from ear to ear at them, and damn, did I ever feel glowing, radiant, filled with joy.
And they looked back at me. Construction crewmen, perhaps bolstered by the courage of having their fellows around them, called out to me, "Hello!"
"Hello!"
"How are you?"
"Absolutely fantastic, and I wish you the same!"
When I wish you joy, people, this is what I mean. Or more so. Joy, joy, joy, life is strikingly awesome.
You may not believe me. Well, if you cannot empathize, your choice. But I wish you the same.
ETA: That game of paying every man you see a sincere silent compliment is an interesting one. Even if you do not believe in any psychic reception on their part of your thoughts, the game achieves three things, at least: (a) it makes you look around, looking alert, friendly, interested rather than absorbed and projecting a Somebody Else's Problem field; (b) it makes you make eye contact, giving the gentlemen a chance to notice your lovely demeanour; (c) the repetition of "I like..." in your head puts a smile on your face almost unconsciously, and, according to extensive polls, men find that the sexiest part of a woman is her smile.