Another beautiful bashful specimen of boyish charm. At first, he blushes and giggles and wonders what the joke is, but I overpower him with my newfound womanhood until he knows that what he feels is special and right.
And as I cling to him, he thinks "oh god, my chance has come at last," but then a strange fear grips him and he just can't ask. But now he can leave Comic Con and tell his friends at home what true love feels like, because he feels it this day, pressed against the warm bosoms of Girl Dave.
A nearby catgirl vogues exuberantly, but I think I need some time to get over striped shirt nerd guy. Maybe he was the one. Maybe I can somehow stay a girl forever and... no, it wasn't meant to be.
Are you concerned that you may be a character trapped in a Tom Waits song? Be smart and learn the warning signs before it's too late. Also, it's too late. It has always been too late.
I'm haunted by a recurring vision of a skeleton flipping me off. To avoid seeing this terrifying image in bumper sticker form, I pay someone with a blank bumper to drive in front of me at all times.
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