I’m really a very attractive person. That is, if you can afford twenty odd sessions of liposuction, x-ray goggles and a psychiatrist. I want to fall in love. A mad, sensational, vulgar, pungent in every possible and literal manner kind of love. Many might say I’m desperate. Some might think it. Guess what, skanks?
You’re right. You’re absolutely, matter-of-factly correct.
So tell me, really, shock me with a witty comeback - what is so wrong about being desperate for the need to love, and to be loved in return?
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