I've always been a sucker for salty, bad-boy types.
I know it's wrong, but I can't help myself. I'm embarrassed to be seen in public with you. I sneak around with you, only occasionally - a foodie booty call. Usually late at night. Possibly drunk.
You're cheap. Trashy, even. But my secret passion for you is quick to ignite. The merest whisper of your name in a sitcom punchline is enough to make me begin to salivate and yearn for you. I feel dirty, and think about you often.
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