A one-winged butterfly can’t fly. Neither can a half a heart love, or a half-hearted relationship work.
I left the door open so you could come in—and I could go out. That’s what being in love is all about.
I bob and weave like Bob Weaver. I loved her like Robert is Bob—only longer.
I have an itch. Wait, scratch that. That’s just a tickle that comes from being in love with someone who’s not in love with me.
As soon as I walked in the door, I could tell she was in love. And seeing as she was packing up all her stuff, the only question I had was, With who?
I arose like a rose, and this is how I knew I was in love.
We made love the way a man with one leg might run a marathon. 26.2 miles is a long way to hop for an orgasm.
My love is atonal. It sounds like a bodily function (walking, or sometimes running).
In the park I saw an empty bench, and I thought, “That’s like my love for her.” At first I was sad, but then I smiled when I realized I’m more of a sofa kind of guy.
Should I take off my helmet before I make love? I'd better not, because my bicycle's breaks are worn out.
I’ve got a lot of love to give. Did I say give? I meant to say sell.
Our love is secret, like the location of the lost Templar Treasure. Quick, grab a shovel and help me look for it.
I can’t be always and everywhere Who Man. Sometimes I have to be the Why Guy. But that’s what makes women want to make love to me and give me a discount price.
I call sex “Boggling”. Making love to me is mind boggling.
If you want me to have sex with you, I’ll have sex with you. If you want me to love you, I’ll have sex with you.
To talk about love isn’t as good as to make about love. During sexual intercourse, I’m very approximate.
You never forget how to ride a bicycle—or the first time you made love on one. I’ve made love on a bicycle twice, to two women—both times were with both women. Foreplay is amazingly difficult with four lanes of traffic honking at you.
In bed, I can go for hours. Oh yes, I love naps.
We made love like two people trying to make love like three people in the trunk of a car.
I make love like farm equipment—not to farm equipment. There is a difference, though my cousin can’t tell it.
We made love like a half a minute. I brought the thirty seconds, and she provided the excuse as to why she didn’t have enough time to have sex with me.
