communication is such a two-edged sword for guys. On the one hand, they almost always mean what they say. Refreshing, I know. On the other hand, getting them to actually say it can be like coaxing a corpse to tap-dance. Not that it can't be done. But it's so freaking exhausting. Not to mention the cost in heavyweight fishing line and Savion Glover videos.

That's what I'd call him if he was my dog. Jacket-humper. Kinda had a ring to it. Although it seemed a little long for vet visits and intros to lady dogs.

Now he looked at the classic parked on the street and admitted, “I bought it soon after we met. I… had hoped someday I might have this chance.” I pointed to the Galaxie. “You can’t possibly have felt like that for me then!” He turned to gaze into my eyes, laying his chin on my shoulder as he said softly, “I have loved you with everything in me from the moment I saw you.

Apparently you don't have to observe the Rules of Etiquette when reuniting with a muderous spouse.

When I bite you, it'll be because I want to make your toes curl and your hair stand on end. And you won't need stitches afterward. You'll need crutches.

Unbelievable. After what just happened between us no, I don’t have any right. None at all. We’re barely a couple. We’re not even sleeping together. I have to-" What in God’s name are you babbling about?" "You’re cheating on me!" "I never cheat.

I described the pyramid we'd found and waited for him to jump on the bandwagon. Unfortunately he's afraid of wagons. And bands.