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27 August 2009 @ 09:16 am
"she tastes like the real thing"  
I ask her to be my substitute wife for the weekend. I explain exactly what I want her to do in the most un-perfumed language I can piece together, but I can still hear that newly-single, cloying desperation clinging to each word.

"Whatever. I don't care," she says, "Just make me feel beautiful."