I fall in love with men who know how to describe women. Certain men are bowled over by the details - chipped nail polish, sly grins.

I once heard a boy call a girl “a darling” in the most sincere, admiring way. “She was old-fashioned,” he said. I’ve wanted to be a darling ever since.

I want him to be able to describe me when I’m gone. Even if the description is tinted by anger or regret, he’ll remember things. I fall in love with men who notice.