In a blind taste-test, my kisses were rated as Helen Kelleresque. Women love how the only sense I keenly possess is nonsense.
Love will make a man do some funny things, like tightrope walking across a telephone wire, rather than simply picking up the phone to call or text.
Love has boundaries, like a map, and I guess that makes me a cartographer. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re too topographical for my taste.
Love doesn’t have form (aside from your naked body), but it does have a shape. The shape of love is circular, like a STOP sign.
Cages are good. My heart is in my rib cage, and love is in my heart. We should put more things in cages, like politicians.
I believe in true love. But my opinion is tainted, because I also believe in Bigfoot, aliens, and in the existence of honest politicians.
We made love like I make grilled cheese sandwiches. I had no idea what I was doing, but she melted into me all the same.
My computer file is zipped, but my pants are not. Let us make love like 1968, before Al Gore invented the internet.
I don’t embark on journeys like the bark of a dog, but more like the bark of a tree. The path to love winds through a densely wooded forest.
We made love like Wednesday and Thursday, only Thursday wasn’t always on top. Her name was Yesterday, and today will always remind me of her.
In a cube of awesomeness, I am the lemonade of longing. My love has twelve edges, like a pack of razorblades to an edgy suicidal maniac.
It has been found that reading love quotes is beneficial to your health. It has been found by me, and I found it under my bed.
Making love to me is amazing. Wait, I meant: making love, to me, is amazing. The absence of two little commas nearly transformed me into a sex god.
Not many men will love you like me. Of course, I’m not many men. I’m just several men. Or I will be, once my clones arrive.
The best reason to fall in love is because you’re alive, your heart is open, and your wallet is empty. I prefer women with lots of money.
Our love was so hot it could melt the polar ice caps. In fact, my passion’s probably to blame for global warming.
We made love like green is blue. That’s because we were only half into it, though for the record I was the blue and she was the disinterested yellow.
The race is long, and I am sprinting. If I ever see her again, I’ll probably be too out of breath to tell her I love her.
I’m tired of calling @PapaJohns. I wish they’d call me for once. I’m starting to think they don’t love me.
I left the door open so you could come in—and I could go out. That’s what being in love is all about.
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?
