So here I am. Three weeks from 35. Smart. Desirable. Sexy.
And, somehow, single.
It's a common story, right? You're fun and successful and you have a great sense of humor. If not perfectly well adjusted, at least aware of and working on the baggage. You know, without anyone having to tell you, that you're great in the sack. And you are
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What the hell. Why is that?
Love this story, btw.
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