I can't fault you for trying...

...but I can try to find fault for it's my decision.

Today it's fucking hot. Not like "Oh, damn, I'm misty". It's like "Jesus fucking hell on a cracker, it's hot." It's a baseball sucks and so does apply pie kind-of-hot. I wish I had someone to lament. To miss and to sing sad songs about. One thing is for sure, if I could take one thing with me as I go down in flames it would be the memory of the scent of a woman. Al was right. There's nothing like it. The way they smell when the perfume settles after an entire day. the way their neck lines radiate soft sensuality in a caring and provocative way. In reality, there's never going to anything as beautiful as the way a woman smells as she's laying next to you about to fall asleep.

You playboys will never understand the warmth one can get from the knowledge that the woman next to you is someone special in your life. That the smell you get to fall asleep to is more beautiful than the most expensive perfume because you know it comes from her. In the end, I think I miss that someone with that scent. Call it whatever you want to. You know it's a universal truth.