It's that special one-sided love where he doesn't know I exist, but it's love none the less.
I'm single handedly bringing the HJ back. Pun intended.
Well, sorta. Short of nude cat fights and joint suds filled explorative showers.
I've been on a steady GTL fix lately, except skin cancer isn't my favorite variety of the cancers, and I get my laundry done for me (what's the point of living in Chinatown if not to get same day laundry services, and my delicates folded into perfect little triangles). So I've modified the popular phrase to include: Gym, Titties, Lesbian-voyeurism.