I married her, even though I only knew her for a week. We like the same music, we even have the same thoughts.
At least get to know her closer. Suddenly married or gay, or confuse can come out. We also have thoughts that coincide with you and music too, but it doesn’t mean that it’s time to go to the shirt, and suddenly she’s there under a shirt of 30 cm and she’s black, and fuck the goose, and then you get married – here she’s going to get off on you by tied to the bed, wearing a mask of Donald Dacca on you and shouting: “I’m a driver of the U.N.O.O. and she’s going to kick you into all the gaps with a negative difference without the right to go up, smoking after this fairy talk and asking: don’t you put a cast plate with a track, and you’re talking thoughts...