HOME | DD

Description
There was a portion of time in my rational life where I believed (irrationally, of course) that love was a pure thing; a thing devoid of any strife or suffering. I believed it was an awful inspiring the most beauteous of wonders. And then age came along, with its mighty hammer of reality, informing me that love is a lie made up by society, and does not reflect the individual experience of such. Obviously, I refused to believe Age, and continued on my quest for true-love. Guess what? I found it.

My true love was sitting a bench one clichéd autumn afternoon, her hair the most lustrous of all shredded flags waving in the brisk wind. The sun made sure to contrast the shadows and colors of her face so that I might instantly wish to drop a knee and fabricate a ring from my empty pocket. Her eyes shone like a prowling cat's in the moonlight; I couldn't tell their shade, but I sure as hell felt the intensity of her gaze.

As I approached her, I debated about what to start our historic conversation with; I quickly found the perfect, slightly humorous and witty, thing to say to her. I was upon her now, and opened my mouth to speak; this is what I said:

"Praise thee, O' magnificent one! I wish to fornicate with you in most tender of ways, for your beauty has befouled my innocent mind. Please allow me to spread my seed for another generation, goddess of love!"

She all but ran from me. What did I say wrong? Or was it the fact that I had approached her with an erection clearly visible through my tight jeans…?

Perhaps Age was correct.

Description
There was a portion of time in my rational life where I believed (irrationally, of course) that love was a pure thing; a thing devoid of any strife or suffering. I believed it was an awful inspiring the most beauteous of wonders. And then age came along, with its mighty hammer of reality, informing me that love is a lie made up by society, and does not reflect the individual experience of such. Obviously, I refused to believe Age, and continued on my quest for true-love. Guess what? I found it.

My true love was sitting a bench one clichéd autumn afternoon, her hair the most lustrous of all shredded flags waving in the brisk wind. The sun made sure to contrast the shadows and colors of her face so that I might instantly wish to drop a knee and fabricate a ring from my empty pocket. Her eyes shone like a prowling cat's in the moonlight; I couldn't tell their shade, but I sure as hell felt the intensity of her gaze.

As I approached her, I debated about what to start our historic conversation with; I quickly found the perfect, slightly humorous and witty, thing to say to her. I was upon her now, and opened my mouth to speak; this is what I said:

"Praise thee, O' magnificent one! I wish to fornicate with you in most tender of ways, for your beauty has befouled my innocent mind. Please allow me to spread my seed for another generation, goddess of love!"

She all but ran from me. What did I say wrong? Or was it the fact that I had approached her with an erection clearly visible through my tight jeans…?

Perhaps Age was correct.