My love language?
Ease.
Elegance.
Effort that doesn’t flinch.
Spa days booked without me asking,
flights already confirmed to someplace
with ocean views and linen sheets,
and dinners that taste like foreplay
with laughter served in crystal glasses.
I am not difficult to please—
I’m simply fluent in intentionality.
In flowers that arrive just because,
in shopping sprees that whisper you deserve,
in men who know rolling out the carpet
isn’t extravagance—it’s reverence.
I like energy that plans.
Energy that listens.
Energy that says, I thought of you,
and the world moved to make it happen.
My joy is not negotiable currency.
It’s my signature,
my crown,
My very own high frequency.
Take me to places where the view
matches my vibration—
where champagne feels like a ceremony
and laughter echoes like prayer.
Bring your best, or kindly bow out.
Because I don’t meet halfway
with half-hearted offerings.
Love, for me, is luxurious, not because of cost—
But because it’s considered.
Well thought out.
Deeply felt.
Unrushed.
So if you come, come ready—
for softness that glows,
for the presence that gives,
for a woman who knows her worth
and multiplies it daily.
Anything less?
Goodbye, gracefully.
Because this heart
has retired from minimum effort.
I am the full experience—
the spa, the trip, the dinner, the gift.
And if you’re not ready to roll out the carpet—
keep walking–
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