I would give you all my love, but I’m afraid I’d get nothing in return. And coming from you, nothing is simply much more than I want.
Toothpaste pie is no substitute for swishing around minty-fresh love in your mouth and then rinsing out with cold, refreshing reality. But don’t take my word for it, because I’m not a dentist.
In the throes of passion, I threw out an I love you. Did I mean it? Does a dictionary mean what it says?
If love were seaweed, I’d ask myself one question: Are you the sort of person who’d swim through it, or would you rather eat it? As for me, pass me my Speedo, and a spoon.
I wish every envelope enclosed a love letter. It’s this hope that leads me to open strangers’ mail. So you see, I’m a romantic, not an NSA employee.
We made love like two sand dollars in a vending machine. She said she wanted marriage and kids, and I said all I wanted was a soda.
Language is visibly invisible, and a foreign language is camouflaged. In another language, I love you may appear like common tree bark.
I know I love her, because when I see her my heart beats like a drum. If she played guitar and sang, we could start a band.
The girl I am in love with told me she’s moving on. Should I cry, or go to Jax beach and party? The ocean’s salty enough without my tears.
I believe in love like a flower bud might believe in Buddha. But, then, I’m a romantic, and you know that because in the last presidential election I voted for Grilled Cheese Sandwich.
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.
Love is 60% water, because a human being, the essence of love, is 60% water. But that’s the other 40% made up of? Easy—minty green tea and honey.
We made love like ten minutes ago. I still remember it vividly, even though our brief sexual encounter took place ten years ago.
Love is like encountering a forest and having to chop down every tree but one. Oh, and you have to chop down each tree by hugging it until it falls.
It's easy to say I love you, but much harder to show it. Be bold. Be in love—and show it. Love is like writing—show, don’t tell.
Youth, I didn’t want that illness. Luckily I recovered just in time for middle age. Now I can focus on more important things, like love, a relationship, and my upcoming existential crisis.
I had a dream about you. We almost made love in the produce section of your local grocery store, but when I asked if you brought protection, you told me you’d forgotten the coupons at home.
My toothpaste tastes like baloney, so I brush my teeth with wheat bread. Guess what flavor my love is, and what kind of mechanical apparatus I use to make it.
Check a phone book out of a library. Inside is a foggy castle covered by a black leather glove, watched over by a shaggy gray dog. My name is written in numbers in the sky by the hand of Hans H. Handey.
It’s raining cats and dogs. Good thing meows and barks bounce off my umbrella, and I just poured a large cup of love in the left cup of your bra when you weren’t looking.
Our relationship is getting serious. I now know she likes Karaoke. Next she’ll tell me she loves coffee. And then she’ll say she loves me—but not as much as she loves coffee.
