It's hard to be sexy when you like stupid everything.
I'm going to lay it out for you like this:
When we met, I didn't want to make you laugh
I just wanted to get your dick hard. Funny girls don't get dicks hard. So I didn't want to be too funny.
Because that's what matters. Because I like you like that- but I would never say anything. You get bored, you told me so, that girls come and go by the time the next month rolls on by.
I wanted to thrill you. With ambiguity. With your erection. Shit... the possibility of it popping up is enough to satisfy me. ( But not SASSIFY me )
I sincerely wanted to get your dick hard. Out of love. If it had been lust... I would have just made you sit across from me and Sharon Stoned you. But I didn't want to do that. I wanted to elicit a meaningful erection from you. Not a cheap and dirty hard dick. An attentive hard dick.
Tell me... if you had met me and I had on overalls and walked like I had a sawed-off shotgun in my pant leg ( boot? I wasn't wearing pants.) then started spitting nonsensical rhymes about thighs eyes and pussy sighs while fellatiating a tootsie pop with somebody else's baby on my hip, you probably wouldn't have taken me out again.
But I'm pretty sure you would have laughed.
I've grown. Matured. I've realized that my love of stupid is innate and impossible to ignore. Stupid is funny. Smart stupid is even better. But stupid is always easier.
I'm sorry BooBoo, but I want to make you laugh AND give you meaningful erections.
But I can't give you anything hip or cool or culturally significant. I don't know what I should be wearing since what I'm wearing now is SO two years ago. I don't have a scene and nobody knows me.
All I've got is pussy, giggles, and casseroles.
But so much love. For you. And your glorious, kind, and undoubtedly beautiful penis. So much love.
Now take it before I throw it in the goddamn garbage and some hobo finds it and claims me as his own.