One Of The Failures Of Cellular Communication

I Don’t Know What Boldness Came Over Me, But The Resolute Heaviness Of Dash’s Demeanor Threatened To Crush My Soul. My Pinky Finger Crept Over And Nestled Against His, For Comfort. Like A Magnet, His Pinky Finger Latched Onto And Intertwined With Mine. I Like Magnets A Whole Lot.

Perhaps It's Not That I'm Frigid-- It's That Once I Decide I Like A Guy, I Turn Into A Raging Idiot, Unfit For Public Appearances.

People Are Like That, Judging You Before They Know You.

I've Given Him More Mixed Signals Than A Dyslexic Morse Code Operator.

When In Doubt, Ingest Carbs.