We asked women to tell us something they love but don’t usually articulate, which led to a moving thread with hundreds of answers. Some of our favorite answers are below.
I love dimes. I love brussels sprouts. I love The Sun magazine. I love petrichor. I love new plant shoots
I love those little dimples on anyone's sacrums -- just discovered they are called dimples of Venus. I love slightly misaligned/imperfect teeth -- seriously makes the person look more attractive to me.
What a beautiful exercise this is... I love rubbing my fingers on smooth rocks. I love the smell of eucalyptus trees and my parents' home. I love the smile lines around my husband's eyes. I love large, ceramic coffee mugs. I love Casablanca lilies just beginning to open. I love listening to my three children talk to each other. I love the quiet of the morning.
I love the smell of lilacs. I love the smell of my dog's belly when he's been snuggled up. I love standing on grass and exhaling. I love skilled craftmanship of almost every kind. I love walking into a hotel room that's already had turndown service.
Thunderstorms, crisp percale sheets, sunsets, peaty and smoky single malt Scotch, peonies, foie gras, leather, sleeping in, vintage pinball machines, good looking men in old Levi's and crisp white shirts with the sleeves rolled up, the nondigital Sunday NYT (preferably perused in bed), screen porches, stone-ground speckled heart grits, old fashioned manners, Diet Coke, fast convertibles, cuff bracelets, cut off jean shorts, bacon, massages, champagne, tulips, being snowed in, and my complete and total independence since my divorce.
I love the feeling of climbing into bed physically exhausted after working out. I love the shiver of delight when my husband winks at me. I love it when someone takes the time to tell me that I did a good job or mean something to them. I love after I’ve read a book and close it and just bask in having read something that made me feel something.
I love the inexplicable something that makes me FEEL, and reminds me of the mysteries in life, and that as long as I search, I will never know them all.
I love the smell of the Library. I love when a friend sends me a funny text and I laugh out loud. I love to go to other people’s homes and look through their bookshelves. I love really clear ice cubes and swimming underwater.
I love the sensation of cutting through tofu, bananas, mushrooms … I love the old-fashionedness of wax paper, I love the malleability of tin foil. I love the instant gratification of cleaning.
I love the connection I have with animals, especially my own.
I love accents, especially Irish. stormy skies. My Benjamin Moore color swatch deck. The last 5 mins of home reno shows.
memories of my childhood, my parents even tho they were flawed (as we all are) and they are gone so I miss them. I have been very fortunate in life.
I love watching really old people buy fruit. I love what people choose for their throw pillows. What it smells like outside after it rains.
I love the weight of my favorite boots on my heels and the stride they produce.
Pickle juice. Straight from the jar when no one’s looking
I love touching my husband’s arms and his temples, hearing the soft thunk sound as my weaving shuttle lands on the tensioned warp, seeing an epic catch in the outfield, the feeling of musicians playing together, the sight of my kids with their heads bent together over something delightful. My cat chirping and the dog growl-talking to me in the morning. Always always the sound of the coffee pot finishing.
I love my neighbor’s grumpy Irish mother, I love hokey historical soft porn like “Outlander,” I love the first sip of a cold martini, I love stepping off the plane in my California hometown, I love Mexico, I love secretly listening to my son sing in his room, I love the Woolfer.
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