Skinny party girls from Italy just seems like something I should be into more. I don’t do well with the nuances of relationships with women who believe in love. It’s far too ethereal. Girls who work Italian rich guys’ private functions seem like they’d never say confusing things like needing to feel important, longing to be understood, or wanting to let back inside the apartment because it’s cold outside. Where do they come up with this stuff. The ability to quickly translate lira into euros into dollars and the number for Pink Dot embedded somewhere in her tramp stamp is my cat’s meow. I should probably get a fake passport.
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