Orson Welles said it best…
“If there hadn’t been women we’d still be squatting in a cave eating raw meat, because we made civilization in order to impress our girlfriends.”
Each man has both a toad and a prince residing within him. From his birth, every man has the seeds of greatness planted in him, and our femininity is the water that nourishes those seeds. Nearly every man in history who has accomplished greatness had a loving and supportive woman standing by his side. In fact, it’s very likely he put her above him on a pedestal.
We inspire men to accomplish more than they might otherwise do on their own. Long ago, men hunted for the sake of feeding their families and tribes, not just themselves. For example, do you ever see a bachelor living in a huge home alone? Sure, you might, but it’s rare. A man living on his own will often live a meager Spartan existence, but as soon as he falls in love and has a woman by his side, he will feel energized to be more, do more, and have more. When a man is with a woman who believes in him, he wants to provide the most he can to give her a better life.
A feminine woman can awaken a man’s tender, romantic side. Her femininity arouses the man’s honor and chivalry. Remember, his chivalrous acts are not done out of obligation but out of desire because he adores her and wants to put her on a pedestal. It’s important that we appreciate the little courtesies men show us.
Here’s a sweet story that truly illustrates how our femininity brings out the best in a man’s masculinity:
“When I was seventeen, my parents divorced and I spent the summer with my father in another city where I met Sandy, who was sixteen and my first girlfriend. We spent many days and evenings together eating at restaurants, seeing movies at the drive-in, going to the beach or anywhere else to have fun. We spent countless hours in my father’s car, talking and kissing and hugging and expressing our love for each other until we had to go home. It was heaven. One day at a park, Sandy challenged me to a race. She said she was fast, but I knew I was faster. She took off, and I trailed behind out of her vision. She was pretty fast, I thought—for a girl. As we approached the end of the race, I shifted gears and blew past her, finishing several yards ahead at the finish line. Sandy threw up her hands in exasperation. “What was that?” she asked. I shrugged and laughed. She walked over to me, wrapped her arm around my waist, kissed my neck, and said, “You are super-fast!”
At that moment, I was putty in the hands of her femininity. I had never felt such a surge of masculinity in my life. On our last date of the summer, when I had to return to my mother and school, we pulled up in front of Sandy’s house. I leaned over to kiss her, but she threw her arms around my neck and begged me not to leave. She was sobbing, and though I was startled, I enveloped her in my arms to soothe her emotions. I also wanted to cry but I didn’t because I had to protect her. I said I loved her and assured her I would return for Christmas vacation, but she continued to sob and I kissed the tears from her soft cheeks. That was more than half a century ago, yet I can still almost taste her tears. That was the summer I first felt the incredible allure of femininity, and with that, my masculinity emerged.”