I'm writing this off the Mediterranean coast, sitting on a terrace by the side of a pool on a perfect, 70 degree night, eating fresh figs and sipping Marmara beer.
The men here are beautiful. They are stylish and walk the streets with confidence, dark and handsome, slim, wearing sports jackets to dinner or drinks with their girlfriends. I'm attracted to nearly all of them.
And yet somewhere in Turkey, I know there's a lonely 31 year old woman who sits in cafes by herself and looks around sadly thinking, "If only men in my city would stop washing their hair, gain 30 lbs., wear flannel, and grow an unruly beard."
The men here are beautiful. They are stylish and walk the streets with confidence, dark and handsome, slim, wearing sports jackets to dinner or drinks with their girlfriends. I'm attracted to nearly all of them.
And yet somewhere in Turkey, I know there's a lonely 31 year old woman who sits in cafes by herself and looks around sadly thinking, "If only men in my city would stop washing their hair, gain 30 lbs., wear flannel, and grow an unruly beard."
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