My boyfriend took me out on the perfect date this weekend. It
started simple enough: sushi, a drive, letting me smoke a joint in the
car while we drive around downtown listened to Future jams that he had
downloaded earlier in the week. Fifteen months in, and I'm still smitten
with the guy. As he pulls up to the front of my building, he looks in
my eyes and says something more panty-melting than all the love sonnets
in the world: "I've got a half bag of Sour Patch Kids in my backpack. Let's go inside".
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