I’m looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can’t-live-without-each-other love.
I like my money where I can see it – hanging in my closet.
Maybe you're only alloted a certain amount of tears per man; and I've used mine up.
I am someone looking for love, real love, ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't-live-without-each-other love.
You can have the guts and the courtesy to tell a woman, to her face, that you no longer want to see her.
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