Much like a butterfly, the life and subsequent metamorphosis of the Unrequited Crush (Amore peribatus) has five stages: the Hint, the Spark, the Smoke, the Burn, and the Fire.
I need you to yell, I need you to simmer. I want you to cry and to laugh and smile and to sulk in the three-dollar movie theater because I refused to hold your hand.
Unlike the majority of Americans, I do not make the resolution to go to the gym and lose weight on the first day of every New Year.
Sometimes, you just don’t want to go out, so I put together this list of excuses. Maybe some of them will happen to be true, which is great for you, you awful, shameful liar. 1.
This veteran chlamydia hottie, who splits his time between follicle replacement therapy and banging his domestic help, is always a perennial choice for the STD hit.