I’m really not sure what more I detest in Frederic Soulacroix’s Flirtation, the dead-in-the-eyes stare, or the goddamn socks and slippers combo this terrible date wants to wear.

Why don’t you tell me you want to go on a date, but then hang out with your buddies ’til two in the morning, then bail on our next hammock date ‘cuz you tired…

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