I remember that feeling, that maddening satisfaction you get coming into your home after a long day of hard manual labor, only to walk into the smell of well-peppered steak sizzling on a cast iron skillet, as your lady is standing there, beaming at your entrance. You walk in, disgusting with sweat, sore from the work, but she is just there, smiling at you in a knee-length polka dot skirt that looks like it is straight out of a 1950's sitcom. And she walks towards you, and you go to take off your shoes, but before you can, she says "un ah ah" as she wags a chastising finger in your general direct. "You forgot something..." She turns her head 45 degrees to yours, and lays her forefinger directly on her cheek, demanding a kiss. I am so foul, made of meat and muscle and hair, covered in sweat and dirt, and she is so clean, so delicate... What could she possible want with a lunk like me... But she does. For some God-forsaken reason, she is the one who wants me. And in that moment, you really understand what it is.