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“A Girlfriend’s note about her Boyfriend”

I’ve seen it, felt it all, I guess. His eyes; the way he looks at me when he is serene. His unblinking gaze with which he’d stare at me for hours, if given a chance. His gleaming, bright eyes when he has something to talk about. The way he lifts up his hand and waves in the air when he is engrossed in something serious and the concern in his dark brown chocolatey eyes when he talks about something grave. The do-not-look-at-me-right-now phase when he is about to cry and the way he buries his head in the blanket soon after it. His sheepish grin when he is about to get mischievous and the intended puppy face he makes when he wants something and I’m not willing for the same. The way he eats; like a baby, who has just learnt the art of eating and his sincerity for food, when nothing can disturb him. His smile, when he blushes and that short little laugh when he is amused. Those many faces he makes during video calls and then the way he covers himself with the blanket in order to hide from me. The way he turns his head away when is supposedly angry and the frown on his forehead which indicates tension. I’ve seen his eyes turn gloomy with no expression actually expressing this emotion. I’ve felt those lively eyes of his when he is happy. 

What else?

The way he settles his hair every now and then and says: “My hairstyle got ruined” and the instant sadness which lowers his enthusiasm with this. The way he walks like there is nothing in this world he cares about and the way he looks at me as if I am the one he’d been waiting for, his entire life. I’ve seen his eyes come to life when he is with me. The way he says “Good morning” over call, in his sleepy, dreamy voice, is another thing I’d die for.

He likes eating Pizza. Chocolates, Ice-Creams and Cold Drink must be his best friends forever; he likes having them at night. He loves his parents a lot; they are probably the only person he has been living for. He loves his family, but he doesn’t like showing that. He likes keeping that to himself. He dislikes cats and wouldn’t want to pet them even though I like them a lot. In that case, he’d better keep a tiger cub as a pet. But I guess I would let him choose this, for all the other little things he does for me. 

I wouldn’t say that he is not like other men, because he is like all the other men on this earth; just a bit more sincere, a bit more cute, a bit more sweet and a lot more realistic.