A funny little thing this love is. It doesn't matter if you're a Japanese stripper or a rich as balls investment broker with a 20 million dollar yearly cocaine habit love it's something all of you minuscule unimportant little earthlings are after. Of course for all you sensitive little pricks out there i'm not saying that there's anything wrong with rubbing your vagina against a shinny metal pole while old men throw dolla dolla bills at you. Shit on a bad day you may even get the occasional nickel to the face, i guess it's just something you learn to cope with, sorta how men learn to accept that tampons just as much as their penises, belong in their lady's private region. Or how cocaine and butt-holes go hand in hand if the snow blow is what gets you harder then a South African diamond. Shit i'm getting sidetracked. But damn this 4 letter word really must be something special if it makes a woman want to go down on a man with balls harrier than an Amazonian jungle. Just think about it for a second. Would you kill for the love of your life? I know I would. I've never held a real gun, but i'm sure id learn to finger that thing pretty damn quickly if it meant giving up what drives me to wake up in the morning and motivates me to be the man that all her pretty lady friends are jealous of.
A wise man once said that blow-jobs are second to love. He also said that hand-jobs are a dieing art, sort of like good old fashioned letters you'd get in the mail on your birthday from your aunt Marie or grandma Shanekwa if your black. Don't get to offended, i'm an asshole in my own way but i'm also a lover. If you are to write anything down from this, it's that Mike's a lover not a fighter. I'd much rather show up on your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers and make you feel like you're the only girl for me rather than fight for hours on how i accidentally went down on your sister. Not that i would ever go down on your sister or anything.... on purpose that is.
U may be asking what the hell this dumb ass Canadian Mike who probably lives with the polar bears in an igloo knows about love. Well let me tell you something. I loved someone once. She said something and i said the next and next thing i knew i wanted to spend my entire life in the middle of that conversation. It's funny cause at the moment i want everything to do with this person, yet she wants absolutely nothing to do with me. We loved, laughed and fucked; the world was a happy place, putting a bigger smile on my face than caramel flavored ice cream or a virgin who just got his balls sucked for the first time. Damn i'd do anything to get her back and even though I've met plenty of woman better than her on paper, nobody is like my fairy tale ending soul mate. Shes a little like Cinderella, a little less clumsy but definitely shittier at cooking. As Kesha once said, your love is my drug, but my lady wont always love me as i do with her. She goes on without me while i'm stuck here running in circles. The clock is ticking. I better figure this out before it's too late
