I love you.
You know I love you. In a very platonic, totally heterosexual way, I want to make your babies.
|Obviously our babies would look like this.|
I will not show you a nekkid picture of my boyfriend.
Yes, I know I posted about this just the other night.
But I've decided that I just can't do it. Even with face and naughty bits concealed by emoji pillows, I can't in good conscience post a picture of my Drummer Boy au naturel.
|This is a random Google search result|
for "naked censored." Drummer Boy
is way hotter than this, I promise.
Yes, he has given me explicit permission to post the photo I took of him, recumbent on my sofa, wearing nothing but two yellow throw pillows decorated with emoji-faces in strategic locations. But still.
First, I'm not going to contribute to my significant other's heretofore unsuspected tendency toward voyeurism. He can post all the nude photos he wants. On his non-existent blog, for instance. But I won't, thanks.
Second, should his willingness to appear in the altogether on the internet come back to bite him (like that's ever happened, amiright?), I don't want to shoulder any part of the blame. In other words, if he has cause to regret any random person's interest in what lurks behind the pillows, it's nothing to do with me, yeah?
Finally, McBoob, stick your lady parts in a sink full of ice water. I am not sharing a nekkid photo of my nekkid boyfriend for your, um, personal edification.
I love you, though. You know that.
You and your Twitter crony The Booklynite will need to keep trying to get me to hork up my intimate secrets.
P.S. Drummer Boy looks exactly like The Dude in The Big Lebowski. Seriously. Picture that nekkid, if you will.