AmericanSweetheart
Active member
A Marine is a Marine all his life. He is a magical creature. You can kick out of your house but not out of your heart. You can take him off your mailing list, but not off your mind. Marines are found everywhere; in love, in battle, in lust, in heat, in trouble, in debt, in bars, and behind them. Marine's come in all shapes, shades, weights, sizes and states of sobriety, misery, and confusion. He is sly as a fox, has the nerve of a dope addict, the stories of an old sailor, the sincerity of a politician and the subtlety of Mount St. Helens. He is extremely irresistible, totally irrational, and completely indestructible. No one can write so seldom and yet think so much of you. No one else can get so much enjoyment out of a letter or clean clothes or a six-pack.
A Marine is a genius with a deck of cards, a millionaire without a cent, and brave without a grain of since. He is the protector of America with the latest copy of Playboy in his pocket. When he wants something, it's usually 30 days leave, music that hurts the ears, a five-dollar bill, or a women he can count on. Girls love them, mothers tolerate them, fathers brag on them, the government pays them, police watch for them and somehow they all work together. You can beat their bodies but their minds; you can take their hearts but not their souls.
He likes girls, females, women, ladies, and members of the opposite sex. He dislikes small checks, working weekends, answering letters, eating chow, waking up, maintaining a uniform, and cutting his hair and the day before payday.
You might as well give in; he is your long distance lover; he is your steel eyed, warm smiling, blank minded, hyperactive; overreacting, curious, passive, talented, spontaneous, physically fit, good for nothing bundle of worry. He shatters all your dreams and fantasies when he drunkenly crawls onto bed with you at 3 o' clock in the morning, kisses you for five minutes, tells you how much he loves you, smokes a cigarette, checks the clock and falls asleep with his head on your chest and hand between your legs and his mind on both.
A Marine is a genius with a deck of cards, a millionaire without a cent, and brave without a grain of since. He is the protector of America with the latest copy of Playboy in his pocket. When he wants something, it's usually 30 days leave, music that hurts the ears, a five-dollar bill, or a women he can count on. Girls love them, mothers tolerate them, fathers brag on them, the government pays them, police watch for them and somehow they all work together. You can beat their bodies but their minds; you can take their hearts but not their souls.
He likes girls, females, women, ladies, and members of the opposite sex. He dislikes small checks, working weekends, answering letters, eating chow, waking up, maintaining a uniform, and cutting his hair and the day before payday.
You might as well give in; he is your long distance lover; he is your steel eyed, warm smiling, blank minded, hyperactive; overreacting, curious, passive, talented, spontaneous, physically fit, good for nothing bundle of worry. He shatters all your dreams and fantasies when he drunkenly crawls onto bed with you at 3 o' clock in the morning, kisses you for five minutes, tells you how much he loves you, smokes a cigarette, checks the clock and falls asleep with his head on your chest and hand between your legs and his mind on both.
