Last night you cooked me a steak dinner, then fucked me better than I’ve ever been fucked. This morning, you said I looked like Poseidon. I’m not saying you’re a benevolent witch slowly transforming me into a Norse god, but I’m not not saying it either.
On our second date, you asked me if I had any kinks. I said I didn’t think so, but I wasn’t sure. A month later, I’ve got a full-blown Daddy complex with a rapidly developing breeding fantasy.
I asked, “Do you want to get married someday?”
You thought I said “Sunday.”
We saw a coyote, then a deer. Pretty sure you’re my wife now.
You’re so hot.
We keep joking that we have toxo-plasmosis, the cat litter disease. I keep wondering if we are laying the framework for all the ways we are about to jump off a cliff together.
Let’s keep texting each other our Co-Star reading every morning, even when we wake up in the same bed.
Your belt buckle says Wyoming, but you keep calling it your “Montana” belt.
You gave me a backrub after cooking me a steak and I almost started crying, I was so happy.
Every time the tarot reading is good, we say, “Fuck yeah!” Every time it is foreboding, we say, “That doesn’t make sense.”