Some of us just aren’t looking for the G rated fairytale. We want someone whose demons play well with ours. That Morticia and Gomez kind of love. Any man worth his salt knows that kind of woman isn't looking for a fucking hallmark card. Hold the door for her, but slap her ass as she walks through it. Skip the flowers and get her something tasteful, like a paddle, or Slayer tickets. Romance is fucking dead.
