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“By creating some elaborate scheme about how we’re dating? As if I would ever date someone who I’m fairly certain has escaped a mental facility.”
“Because I’m an emotional eater and your lack of Christmas cheer is making me very sad.”
“It’s hardly unethical for two consenting adults to be involved.” “I don’t recall consenting to being involved with you.” “I don’t recall consenting to being your personal bagel delivery girl and yet, here we are.”
“We both know you’re not having sex with him tonight.”
“What are you doing?” he hisses. “We’re having sex,” I whisper. “God, Ash.” His entire body tenses. “You belong in a mental institution,” he says. “It’s not even noon!” “We can’t have fake sex before noon?” What kind of fake relationship am I in? “Oh my God, do you really have a scheduling kink?” “Do I have a what? You just told her you were going to sleep for the next twelve years.”
“You’re deranged.” “You just invited this deranged person into your bed.” “I regret it immensely.” “I don’t believe you.” “Go back to the couch.” “I think you just want to look at my butt again.”
“When do I get accused of murdering you? Because I won’t even try to deny it. I’ll walk into the courtroom and say you’re welcome.”
Men have been disappointing women for centuries. And if I’m going to throw myself in front of a train, it’s not going to be because of a man. It’ll be because the government found my blog about the extraterrestrials.
“Olivia?” Asher’s voice is muffled by his pillows and sheets. “Yeah?” “I think I’m in love with you.”
A guy puts his mouth on your boobs one time and suddenly he’s all you can think about?
I’m the human embodiment of someone hitting play on every single Taylor Swift song at once.
Who knew world domination was at the helm of a purebred Pomeranian?
When we go away next month, I hope she gets attacked by a shark.