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 11.12.2015
I once was a biker.
I was courageous, free and long-haired.
She found me and grabbed me like a ripe. Wherever I went, she was waiting for me.
Twelve years have passed since then.
I was a rocker and I only wore black jeans, crushed jeans, cowboy boots and cowboy boots. For solemn occasions, I still had black sweaters, torn jeans, shorts and white shoes. I was satisfied with my life. She fell in love with me like a cat. She told me, “You’re so brave, so free, and you have such long hair.
Our freedom ended when we decided to get married. But I had enough of being brave and having long hair. But that was only before the wedding. Shortly before the wedding, she said to me, “You could have a haircut. “My mom will be at my wedding.”
After a few days of grievances, complaints and tears she shed, I agreed to a short haircut. I was courageous, not free, and I was walking through my mouth. “I love you as you are,” she whispered to me. In principle, I’m already accustomed, although the mushroom is still frozen. Once she appeared with a bunch of bags and in them were pants with arrows, jackets and shirts. After the cisterns of tears she shed, I swung my feet into fashionable shoes. They were followed by jackets, coats and cravates. But I was still brave, married, fashionably dressed, and my hair was frozen. Then came the biggest battle: for the horse. I lost it quickly. In the pants with the arrows, I looked at the motorcycle like a fool. But I was still brave, depressed and moved to Passat.
In the years that followed, she shed tears and I lost many more battles.
I started drinking wine from my glasses, calling her mother you and listening to "Root".
I helped with the house and did the shopping.
I was a luzer, absorbed by the household and passed through my moustache.
One day she packed her suitcases and said, “I’m leaving you. You’ve changed a lot and you don’t look like the man I loved.”
I recently met her again. Next to her was a long-haired motorcyclist in a shirt and torn jeans, who looked at me with regret.
I’ll give him a warm hat.
Source: http://www.anekdot.ru/an/an1512/o151210.html#11
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