If you have the woman you love, what more do you need? Well, besides an alibi for the time of her husband’s murder.


Making love to me is amazing. Wait, I meant: making love, to me, is amazing. The absence of two little commas nearly transformed me into a sex god.


I make love with a focus and intensity that most people reserve for sleep.

She asked if I loved another woman, so I answered honestly and said, “Dinner was great, but I could go for dessert.

If I could bronze my love, it’d be worthy of a silver medal.


To find out if she really loved me, I hooked her up to a lie detector. And just as I suspected, my machine was broken.


Our love was a two-person game. At least until one of us died, and the other became a murderer.


I love being in love, but I also love other things, like not being jealous, overly sensitive, or needy.


She gave me money to buy condoms, and instead I bought a book of baby names. That’s life. That’s love. That’s fiscally irresponsible.