He is my friend because he is the only person who understands how catastrophic an "Ashanti-with-with-a-penis" would be. (...It has just occurred to me that in 2013, all things are possible.)...
There have been few constants in my life. Most things and/or people i drink and/or push away. Maybe its that he is the only guy I have ever actively pursued. And by actively, I mean i stared him down on the subway, but this dude is in my life like that splinter i forgot i had that calloused over and i will most likely be living with forever.
TWO WORDS: sport fuck. "If you need to tire yourself out before bed, why don't you just go for a jog?" Because, dear sir, jogging requires pants. I mean don't get me wrong you're cute and all, and of your luscious penis, i am eternally jealous. But i think i enjoyed the jokes more than the splooge.
I've never seen myself as the kind of person who would have the capacity or ballerific skillz required to have what i like to call a "bed-buddy", but in 2010 all of my wildest non-dreams were actualized in one shorthairyfunnyman.
Now i toe the line between wanting to (and needing to) eradicate this succubus of a relationship, and truly believing in the preservation of such bonds. Ours is an illustrious history, with many tales of drunken phone calls and adultery, based almost entirely on insults and manipulation...but we do try.
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