All women are beautiful, but Gabe doesn’t care

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Gabe and I got to go fishing last night; just the two of us.

It was a beautiful night to be out, if maybe a little choppy for perch fishing.

We’d been out there for a while, and he’s killing me. He’s already got two fish to my zero, and we’ve come to a lull in the action.

A pair of jet skis blows by, causing us even more waves, and making a racket. Things are going to be slow for a bit. Gabe looks up and says, “two women.” Not girls, not chicks or babes, but women. I’m proud already.

I decide it’s time for a bit of fatherly advice.

“You want to know something about women, buddy?” I ask. “They’re all beautiful.”

“You know who’s beautiful? Mom.”

Great reply. Maybe the kid’s smarter than I thought.

“I agree. Your mom is a very beautiful woman, both inside and out. Three billion women on the planet, and I had to pick just one to ask to spend the rest of my life with. I chose your mom, and I’m happy I did. But bear with me, I have a point.”

“Every woman is beautiful. If you look closely, in just the right way, with the right kind of eye, you can see it. Here’s the problem – most of them don’t believe it. If you can convince a woman she’s beautiful, or at least convince her that YOU believe it’s true – because it is – you’ll never have a problem with women. Ever.”

By now the women with the jet skis were long gone, as was his patience for advice on girls, a breed he still thinks are pretty gross.


That’s all I got in return. Moment over, back to fishing.

I’m trying ladies; just bear with him.

P.S. He skunked me four fish to none.

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