Most women cannot distinguish between the feeling of “love” and what
happens when a young male has floppy hair that falls over his eyes;
truly lovable men have eyes hidden so deeply behind a cascade of floppy
chestnut hair they are effectively blind
It’s good if a man is skittish and terrified of affection, like a
beautiful horse that appears on the edge of a frozen lake one day and
you have to tame it by bringing it a handful of food every day until it
slowly comes to learn your scent (but with sex)
Women only love men with CROOKED SMILES, a man who smiles with
his mouth all in a straight line might as well be DEAD; a male smile
should resemble nothing on earth so much as the Leaning Tower of Pisa,
Lombard Street, a lightning bolt, a scarecrow with a broken neck, or two
palm trees leaning against each other to form a big “X”
Whenever possible, a man should have a cruel mouth,
particularly if he has blue eyes – the bluer the eyes, the crueler the
mouth; a man with cornflower-blue eyes should have a mouth like a
genocide
If he can’t have a cruel mouth, he should have strong and callused
hands, sort of rough but surprisingly gentle, like if it turned out his
hands were actually made of doves, and he should be sort of dim but
incredibly dedicated to you, he should be so dumb he can’t remember
fractions but every day he builds you a four-poster sleigh bed out of
oak and devotion and needs to have wordless but noisy sex on the hour
and also needs help signing his own name
In honor of his 22nd birthday and also in honor of possibly the greatest Little Shit moment (aka The Tweet to end all Tweets “feeling 22″TM) of his life.
There are literally hundreds of moments to chose from, but here are moments where Harry Styles was a little shit to those around him. I feel personally attacked,
22) Poor Gemma is the long suffering victim of much of Harry’s Little Shit-ery
21) After he added the echo of “done done” to Stockholm Syndrome and made this face because he knew everyone’s reproductive bits just burst into flames.
#so basically what’s happening here is #Niall’s brought his new friend Zayn along for a lads’ weekend #and Liam’s just (incorrectly) introduced Zayn to someone as “Niall’s boyfriend” #Zayn is delighted #Niall’s head explodes #and he spends the rest of the weekend obsessing over how and where and why he touches Zayn #until the last night #when they’re the last ones still awake#and sitting shoulder to shoulder on the wet ground #watching the bonfire burn down to embers #Zayn quietly kisses Niall on the corner of his mouth #right where it’s smeared with a bit of marshmallow from the s’more they were sharing #and on the way home #Niall takes Zayn’s hand in his without a second thought #(except for maybe what they’ll do once they’ve traded in their sleeping bags for a bed) (via lindybot)
326 Miles 