You’ve considered dating but like, take out is easier.
It’s a turn-off to a lot of people.
The texture is rough and reminds me of human skin, like ball sacks, and/or when I bit my cuticles off my fingers and swallow them, which I secretly really enjoy.
I mentioned parsnip to someone last week and they looked at me like I was a three-eyed monster.
Dear Chipotle, I fucking love you.
“You even look a little bit smaller than when you left,” she agreed. It was working.
What I received was no sandwich; it was more akin to a small raft of bread floating atop a congealed caloric ocean on its voyage to Type II diabetes.
“I only eat fat-free foods.”
A love like coffee is longterm, but dependable. It’s the kind of love which forces us to burn the candle at both ends, passionate and productive in its codependency.
Excuse me, I need a tissue…