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He's too boyishly good-looking. He looks like he'd be a post-coital cuddler, and would enjoy discussions of self-examination of the psyche and such. And you just know he's a flower-buyer. Pfffft.
Should I call CHOUT? I'm half asleep, and I've got fuck all to say. Oh, the dilemma.
I could ring his phone incessantly all hours of the night, though. It is free. I do love technological advancement in communications.
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