I heard you calling out to me, but I almost didn’t reply because you were using another guy’s name.
Is there relationship insurance? You know, in case someone steals your significant other? If not, there should be.
People come and people go, but only a magical person can come and go at the same time.
I’ve only been with my girlfriend for three days, but it feels like a lifetime—the lifetime of a gnat.
I run my household like a marathon. That’s 26.2 miles of me taking orders from my significant other, who has significantly more control over the relationship than I do.
I’m like a staircase, she was like an elevator, and our relationship never escalated above friendship. I’d like to think we’ll one day be a couple, but I’m not going to wear a fishbowl on my head and dream about it. That wouldn’t be fair to...
I used to date an older obese woman named Ten, but everyone just called her "X". Now I just call her ex X. She'll be XXXIV next month, and I think I'll get her an XXL sweatshirt for her birthday.
My ex girlfriend said she’d never cheat on me. Well, she did—with an accountant. Now I owe money to the IRS.
My neck size is about the size of both of my girlfriend’s clenched hands.
Everywhere I go I'm too focused on everyone else to realize that they are too focused on themselves. And by everyone else I basically mean myself. It's hard to think about someone else when that someone else reminds you of you.
We’re going to go in the back room as two singles, copulate back there, and come out a couple. Somebody go tell my clone where I am so he doesn’t go file a missing person’s report on himself.
We broke up because we weren’t going anywhere. I kept telling her, Hitchhiking takes patience.
I found her love in the dumpster. Well, if he threw it away, I see no reason why I can’t keep it. I’m so into her you’d think I was homeless.
I met a girl I wanted to date, but she was spoken for—by her mouth. That’s the kind of relationship I could never talk her out of.
I won't discuss non-discussable things with her, like the sound of silence or the vertical dimensions of an awkward moment. Those sorts of things are best left unsaid, like the last time I told her I loved her.
A man who claims to be 32 degrees is one freezing freemason. That man must make love with all the warmth of a shadowy secret.
There’s no room in my life for a woman. I mean I live in a closet, and I suppose I could squish my clothes over and she could squeeze in, but where is she supposed to put her clothes? And her shoes, what about her shoes?
Love is as clear as saran wrap, and just as necessary for preserving our interpersonal leftovers. If you’re ready to heat things up, I’m ready to spoon.
The wind blew at hurricane speeds, so I held my breath, thinking every exhalation was contributing to the accelerating breeze. I was too busy saving my breath and saving lives to say I loved her, and she ended up leaving me for a storm chaser.
His name was Chase, so to make things interesting, I gave him a bit of a head start. Sort of like I do when pursuing a woman that I love.
She didn’t just disappear from my life—she had the audacity to die on me. And until I get Alzheimer’s, I will never forget it.
