“You do know you can’t date for at least half of the time we were together, right? So, half of fifteen years is seven and a half. And we gotta times that by seven because it’s actually in dog years when it comes to how long you gotta wait. So, if my math serves me right, you gotta be single until you a smooth eighty-seven, unless you get back with me.” “Ummm…” “If you wanna be popping it wide open for Devontae in the old folks’ home when you in your eighties, by all means, do you. But until then, you gotta be single.”
