Ars Amatoria


I read somewhere,

maybe in my girlfriends’ Cosmo or some Buzzfeed list,

that Dr. Pepper makes vaginas stink. Crazy Right?

That would suck for me because I absolutely love that shit.

Then again, I also heard that red meats makes semen taste bitter.

Hell, I’m not the one swallowing it and my girl hasn’t complained yet.

Just hear me out, I’m trying to make a point here.

If my girlfriend drinks Dr. Pepper (I swear she doesn’t)

and I eat a big, fat steak every night then I guess we’re even.

Kinda’ like when you wake up face to face and she’s

blowing steamy morning breath onto your side of the bed.

There are two types of couples in this world:

1. Couples who get up, use the restroom and brush those pretty pearly whites.

  1. Couples that say fuck it and put that morning wood to good use avoiding mouth to mouth contact as much possible. Now, unless you’re with some pretentious asshole that makes their kids drink vitamin water instead of anything with high fructose corn syrup,

I’m going to assume, like me, you opt for the latter.

While I’m no chief editor of the dating section on,

I do know that love isn’t a bunch of red rose petals

lined all the way to a candle-lit Jacuzzi filled with artesian lavender water and a glass of Pinot de Bullshit.

It is accidentally bumping heads in the white tub of a single bedroom apartment while laughing as you make a mustache out of Mr. Bubble’s bubble bath,

Grabbing you by the waist as we sing Blurred Lines into wooden spoons dressed only in our underwear making hamburger helper,

Interlocking our toes while we gossip going through your Instagram feed while I clumsily try to braid your hair.

So go ahead,

crack open a can of that sugary goodness.

I’ll have the T-bone.