I’ve been seeing Mr. Nearly Perfect for a couple of months now. He’s terrific in every way. Every way except one. He’s extremely nice, loves to spend time with me, thinks I’m beautiful, has a good job, nice body, loves his Mom…you know, an all around great guy.
The problem is we get intimate last night, and afterwards, he told me how good I was, and I was thinking “Really? You thought that was good?” It was only the second time we had been together. The first time was a little worse, but I was hoping to chalk that up to lack of practice on his part. Nuh uh.
Evil Randy Jackson is on one shoulder saying “Dog, it was just alright for me, man. It started out rough, was a little pitchy in spots, and I thought you were gonna work it out by the end, but :::sucks in breath::: dude…no, dog. It just was too short of a song…man, it was just alright.”
Evil Paula is on the other shoulder saying “You smelled really good and your Hawaiian shirt was unexpected and whimsical. You looked nice.”
Evil Simon - “That. Was. Not. Your best performance.”
I need to vote him out, but I just don’t know how to tell him. And now I know for sure that I watch too much TV.