|I've chased him around town like this|
All my friends think we've dated. When I break the news that we've never even locked lips. they tilt their heads and say, "That's strange. He's totally your type." I KNOW! That's what I'm saying.
You don't make reservations to eat at McDonald's and I shouldn't have to wait years to get my turn to date him. It's absurd! Is this what Mr. Big meant when they "waited on a line" to be with some chick? Am I standing in the same line? This sucks.
Sure, he'll stop to give me a hug when he runs into me at a party or at a bar, but I'm talking about scoring a little solo time here. Between his jovial yet disheveled demeanor and his propensity for staying out 'til last call, he is the perfect candidate for joining my wack pack of dudes. (You will know them by the trail of Leonard Cohen CDs.) Why the hold up? WTF? This is outrageous. I'm getting pissed off just talking about it.
This guy is like my Seabiscuit. (I've never seen the movie, but I feel like it involves losing a race or maybe winning one?) No, wait! He's my Moby Dick. Yeah. He's one huge Moby Dick looking adorable in a parka jacket stopping to say hi to me every time I run into him. Exactly.