Things I Don’t Understand And Definitely Am Not Going To Talk About (well, maybe I’ll talk about it a little):

He’s never heard the T-Pain masterpiece I’m N Luv (With Wit a Stripper).

I started singing it a few days ago and he was suddenly very confused. I think this is why I’m in his life. They say people come into your life for a reason. This is the stuff they should write novels about. These moments. This is the stuff that should be made into movies featuring a crying James Franco and the music of Celine Dion.

Because I’m helpful, I’ve already started writing it.

Winter. New England. A woman is sitting alone by the ocean, wrapped in a shawl. She is staring longingly into the choppy waters. A man walks up from the old clapboard Bed and Breakfast. He wraps his arms around the woman.

Him, whispering in her ear: I heard you singing, my love.
Her, feigning embarassment and looking wistfully to the right: That was just an old song my mother used to sing me when I was a girl.
Him: It was beautiful. I wandered out here because methinks I heard a sparrow humming his gentle morning song, but instead I was greeted by an angel. Your soprano voice… it fills my soul with hope. I must know, my only love, did you learn that song whilst gallivanting about on your many worldly travels? I don’t recognize the tongue in which you speak. It’s captivating.
Her: What in the hell are you talking about?
Him: You kept repeating the word “shawty“… Is that word French? Swahili? Another mystical language of lovers?
Her: Not exactly.
The man pulls the woman into his arms and looks into her eyes, pleading.
Him: What does it mean? I won’t rest until I know.