I can stare down the most ferocious of beasts.

Ripping splinters from my hand is as painful as swatting away a fly.

Why is it then that when a woman glances in my direction,

My knees become so weak?

Is it out of love?

A natural desire for that which I cannot have?

Or perhaps, it is the emotion that all men hide.

 

Fear.

Fear of rejection.

Fear of heartache.

Fear of how quickly her laugh can turn from blissful to sadistic.

 

Such is the bane of man, such is the suffering of the soul.

Curse this confliction! The old adage is true.

“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.”