Dear Persian man with gold medallions,
No amount of questions concerning the DMV will turn me on. Nor will your Armani pants and oozing lip sores. Your chest hair does not make me want to think about what you look like naked and your cologne made me choke a little.
Whomever told you that marriage proposals were most romantic when made in a DMV line surrounded by drag queens, illegal immigrants, and wanna be celebs and attached to words such as 'business deal', 'green card', and 'HUGE favor', should be forced to watch a Shot at Love 2 with Tila Tequila until they have to suck their thumbs and plead for their mommy. Though I suppose your friends make up the majority of its audience.
Lastly, and for the benefit of your future proposal attempts. Never before have I have sex with a man simply because he wore sunglasses inside. Not ever.
You are like a unicorn. I did not know you existed. You are a walking stereotype. Hang your head in shame, dear sir. Hang your head in shame.
No comments:
Post a Comment