Happy Belated Valentine’s Day, boyfriends! I typically don’t deal in the trivial business that is half-dead flowers from some horrid megamart and cheap chocolate, wrapped in tacky, cardboard hearts. I tend to believe that every day of the year is Mine, except Valentine’s Day. I firmly believe Valentine’s Day is the day you pretend to want to bring your wife presents or take the beast to dinner before you pretend to want to fuck her in the name of obligatory holiday sex. Obviously, all of that is fucking gross.
But I do want to thank Myself for some exceptional gifts. (Technically you guys paid for all of it, but you pay for everything. So that’s not news.) Specifically, I got Myself a bunch of new makeup brushes that were on an epic, crazy sale, (below) and a bunch of new bras (above,) and some other makeup spoils I’ll photograph upon arrival. I love being spoiled. And allowing your wife to suck your stupid prick on Valentine’s Day is no reason to stop any of that.
But that brings Me to the part about “Real Love Online?” Oddly, I always find Myself feeling…
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