Happy Couples
and other things that
make me want to puke
Picture it: Her seated in his lap, side saddle, with windswept hair and bright white teeth. His hands encircle her to keep her safe, fingers clasped in a sex grip around her waste. Gazing into each other's eyes as though the button on their morphine drip is stuck, they bring something almost worse than the other horsemen combined: the feeling that true love really does exist out there and that your problem is that you just keep missing the boat.
War? pfft. I can hide good. Famine? Hey, I'm a student. Famine is my middle name. Pestilence? Does that mean I can take some time off work with pay? And death? Bring it on. But the feeling that I'm lacking something that keeps me from being truly happy when in the arms of another? Force me over the trench wall while starving and suffering from bubonic plague to put me out of my misery. Please. Anything but that.
3 Comments:
Me photoshop good.
You wrote about the "sex grip".
That makes me so happy. Remember that creppy guy, Paul, who sex gripped me at Gypsophilia? Those were the days.
Now, get over yourself! It is delightful, though, how you compare love to the second coming!
I am also impressed with your photoshop skills. That mac is doing wonders for you.
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