There he goes, in his tailored suit. The trousers show his arse off to perfection, whilst his shirts - damn, his shirts don't reveal anything about him.
He really hasn't got a clue as to how I feel about him. About how I suffer when he is flaunting his...assets like that, and assets they are.
Jealous? Me? Damn straight.
He does dress better than I do, what would I bring to the relationship?
There's only one thing I can think of.
Love. That's what.
-- THE END --