Bill and I joke that when we got married he gave up big-titty women and I gave up long-haired men. His girlfriend before me was a lacrosse playing, Cuban, large-breasted classical pianist, and hell if I know what order to put all those adjectives in to reflect their importance to Bill, but I bet the tits were near the top.
He didn’t get those when he married me. I’ve even posted a picture of my pancake/Tootsie Roll breasts on this very site.
All marriages involve compromise, though, and I gladly live with a man who not only has short hair, but who also expresses his love for me by scraping his long toenails against my calf in bed at night, although he knows the maneuver skeeves me out.
Bill has long been meaning to make my long-haired dreams come true.
After an inspired stop at Party City, an Adonis entered my room.
I am truly the luckiest girl alive.