I always wear intense Red lipstick which intimidates men. My favorite shade of red is Pirate by Chanel, which has a blue tone underneath its red pigments, this subtle blue tone brings the reddish shades out on white skin with more intensity.
Rumor has it that men do not like makeup, which is partially not true. Men only get scared of red lipstick because it is so inviting and intimidating at the same time. This particular color confuses them with a get-closer-stay-away kind of attitude. Therefore, I always wear it.
My Love is not for the faint of heart, so you have been warned. I belong to no man and no land. My approach to life is completely amoral, and in love I am the most loyal, devoted libertine.
I am that person who falls in love with a song, listens to it for 7K times a day, then forsakes it heartlessly and throws it out in the dirt and cold. A schizophrenic and so I am. A typical Gemini by the book, Madame Jekyll and Ms. Hyde, when I cannot find the missing piece of the puzzle, I throw it all out. I fall out of love with the people and things I adored a few days ago, and I change my opinion about the same thing more than I change my underwear thrice a day.
I am not easy to be impressed, and the effort men have to make in order to keep me interested could be moving mountains. I know that diamonds are forever and they are a girl’s best friend, but I am no longer fascinated by diamonds, if the right man wants to catch my attention, he should play it in Thomas Crown’ style, and bring me René Magritte’s The Son Of Man, or Egon Schiele’s Deux Filles Enlaceés.
I like to cook in style, Martha Stewart’s way, but I never stretch a leg to do household chores, because these hands are made for drawing, to arrange flowers, to wear diamond rings, to be kissed softly, not to do the dishes or clean up after dogs.
I put sketching and writing first in the relationship, they have absolute priority, and I could be leaving bed in the middle of love making because I have this brilliant artistic idea or that perfectly coiffed sentence just popped up in my head, that must be sketched or written immediately, I jump to catch my Muse before she flies away, lest I forget all about her. I do not do monogamy and my lover should accept sharing my bed with three other partners: Art, Design, and Literature.
I travel on a whim, rootless and airy like a summer cloud, detached from family heritage like a hippie. I am vast like an ocean and far deeper than one. I am a living work of art, but don’t you dare to frame me in order to hang me on your wall or to show me off to your friends and family. I am moody and impulsive as a volcano which would erupt abruptly at any moment, and nobody will be able to predict when. I am a drizzling rain and a southern hurricane, beautified with light and thunder. I am a reality-show drama queen, a whiny bitch and grand attention whore, more than Madame De Pompadour.
I am obsessive, possessive, jealous, but I do not like to be jealoused upon. I do not like to be told what to do, nor I like to be besieged in any way or form. I live my life according to my own standards, terms and conditions, regardless of what other people think, and my lover must give up on any future attempts to change or fix or box me up, he must succumb to my will for I take orders from no man. I do not give a damn about what people say, therefore I enjoy obscene rumors and bad reputation more than Mata Hari did.
My Love is not for the faint of heart, so you have been warned. I belong to no man and no land. My approach to life is completely amoral, and in love, I am the most loyal, devoted libertine.
I will continue to wear my favorite red lipstick because I like it, even if you do not like it. Most men fear red lipstick. They think twice before kissing a woman who’s wearing it, for the fear of ruining their faces and clothes with such heavy creamy stains.
If the Mr. Right is brave enough, he will not give a damn about my red lipstick. He will not be afraid of ruining his face – and mine to grasp my kiss. Only then I will know; He is The One.