I remember the holiday I took in my girlfriend’s head when I wanted a break in point of view. Our gaze lingered on the muscular waiter longer than it should have before I saw my flabby face spouting pseudo-intellectualism which I apparently thought was clever. As I pompously held court, our attention was drawn to the gut that I was unaware I had, before we again turned to stare at the waiter’s tight buttocks.
As I recoiled in horror from how she saw me, she tapped her temple and simply said, “What’s the matter? Don’t you wish you were here?”
As I recoiled in horror from how she saw me, she tapped her temple and simply said, “What’s the matter? Don’t you wish you were here?”
