Okay, okay. I get it.
So I speak the language of dead white guys. Who can fault me when I say that an amazing night is ended with the sound of the lark, rather than the cold clank of the radiator and the snoring of the dog? Thanks, all you Romeo and Juliet fans who caught the reference (none of you! shame!).
The 'he' in my last few posts has a name. So yes, I'm talking reality language here.
He is funny, sweet, warm, thoughtful, smart, earthy, and has a smile that lights me up.
He makes me feel so special, so adored, so natural.
Oh yeah, and he has the approval of my dog. Not just a 'yeah, you're okay,' but a 'hey, hey, looky who's here I'm gonna run to you and wag my rear end and not hump you or bother you when you're talking!' approval.
There are a thousand million things I want to do with him.
And I want everybody to know, everybody. Cuz man, oh man.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment