Pain is like fog
it creeps on little cat feet.
If you sleep with someone, and they have to get *drunk* to do it; they're probably not the one.
If the presentation is sensational, and the follow-thru is mediocre, they're probably not the one.
If the professed occupation is *dancer* (meaning stripper) and the reality is prostitute... they are not the one.
If Zero to Sixty includes a rage-aholic, and the difference between them sucking your cock or clit and coming after you with a kitchen knife is a heartbeat; they *definitely* are not the one.
If they happen to have a brain the size of a planet; but the only thing they are using it for is to play "poor poor Pitiful me", then they're not even remotely the one, especially with a alcohol / meth addiction.
What, you didn't think I'd notice that you're shit-faced most of the day?
What worries me more is that I'm still here.
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