Whoever I marry is gonna be one lucky son of a bitch.

I already have twenty one years of intense, seething sexual frustration pent up in me, ready to burst.

I am going to be fucking ravenous by the time I tie the knot, pitch the canopy, break the glass, all that hoopla.

Fucking. Ravenous.

We’ll be re-enacting this scene.

I’m serious.

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