A few years ago I dropped off the face of the earth. Then I came back the next day to pick it up. Unfortunately, it was stained red with love.
We spent the whole evening conversing like I was mute and she was deaf. I didn’t talk and she didn’t listen, and that’s what made me think we might be in love.
People are temporary, but love is eternal.
While they had security escort me out of the building, they couldn’t forcibly remove the trophy from my anus. If love were a competition, I’d be the winner.
My love is a flower. If you’d call that romantic, I’d agree and say it would look great on your grave.
The thing we have in common is we both love to make love. Maybe one day we can merge our mutual interest and make love to each other.
I just yawned. Now that is exciting. Almost as thrilling as making love to me thirty minutes after I’ve fallen asleep.
I sorted my sordid sort ofs from my maybes. Then I made love like never before. Seriously, I’d never made love before, and I have to say, it didn’t cost me as much money as I expected.
I put the hands in handsome. Then I put my penis in those hands. That’s some good-looking lovemaking.
I asked what year the car was that was sitting in the driveway, but what I meant was how long had it been parked there. If it’s been there since 1982, I’ve been in love longer than it is wide.
Love rules the world. Like a tyrant.
All the love I have left over from my last relationship is covered in tinfoil and labeled “Do Not Eat.” Since I don’t feel like cooking or making love, I’ll probably have it for dinner tonight.
I once tried to shave my mustache off with a toothbrush. Just one example of my skills as a lover.
I love favors, because a favor is, instead of me doing something or paying you anything, why don’t you do it for me for free?
His loyalty has the consistency of a booger—sticky for a while, but easily flicked off. I’d probably love Prague in the spring.
I welcome all You’re Welcomes with open arms and open zippers. My love for her is sandwiched between two slices of Thank You.
To their eyes, I was love. To their ears, I was truth. To their noses, I was anus.
I invented a Love Machine. You should buy two, one as a backup—or to run both simultaneously while you masturbate.
My albino elbow bends like a bow and arrow shoots shoots, roots, and bearded forest creatures. Love me now, before I remove my undergrowth.
Your unborn children cry in your testicles. I can hear them when you masturbate. Your mother loves me more than she loves you.
I called her Nebraska, because she was from Iowa. We made love like the Midwest. Well, not all of it. More like the Midwest minus Kansas, if you know what I mean.
