I love a girl with quirks. They're adorable.

You know what I mean. Those mannerisms that are unique to you, those behaviors that others don't do, those special things that you do. Quirks.

Like the way you point at yourself whenever you ask, "me?" Or the way you skip around whenever you're happy. Or the way you make a noise for every little action you make. They're a part of what makes you special.

And really, who wouldn't love them? Who wants a generic, bland, average person?

Say you're given a plain cracker. No salt, no sugar, just plain. Maybe you can enjoy its blandness for a moment, but it becomes boring very quickly.

Spread some peanut butter on it. Maybe some strawberry jam too. Yum, now it tastes better! Or try some warm cheddar cheese sprinkled with green onion bits. Delicious!

But to equate that to a quirk is like comparing Proboscis monkeys to George W. Bush; they're close, but one is an extreme case of the other.

Perhaps I should clarify. Add a mushroom slice, a mozzarella slice, and some herbs and spices. Then top it off with whipped cream and chocolate magic shell. Throw in some ketchup and Tikka Masala sauce. And now you have quirky!

The way you make up your own words to familiar nursery rhymes, that's your mushroom slice. The way you tilt your head, open your eyes wide, and grin at a funny private joke, that's your magic shell. The way you pull your blanket over your face when you sleep, giving the appearance that you're suffocating (only you're really not), that's your Tikka Masala sauce.

All of these unique yet delightfully odd flavors mixed into one person make you all the more special. All the more adorable.

I love your quirks. They're adorable.

. . .

Do you like someone with quirks?