Okay. Can you pick me up saturday with your private jet and fly me to Paris?
One guy told me that on a dating site and I believed it. It turned out to be a love scammer, but I told him it was funny. I really saw him flying in my imagination zoooot all the way from Florida over the ocean to meet a single mom in Arnhem.
The only private jet I have is a paper airplane.
It flies pretty good, but I don't think it will reach Paris.
I'd like to meet you halfway, but the ocean is
like some kisses, (so I've heard), very wet,
(Not that I'd mind that), but it can also be rather chilly
this time of year, and I wouldn't want you to catchacold,
plus I don't want you leaving your kids,
so swimming the Atlantic is out.
Such a dilemma, always a dilemma, and probably
why I've never dated. (Well, one of many reasons, I guess)
You like aardvarks, I like aardvarks.
I'll tell my mom that I finally have a date.
May be best to tell her we're working on a date
to make a date to go on a date.
I'd like to tell my mom, but she has a heart condition,
and the excessive laughter in astonishment might not be good.
Maybe we can talk a little first.
Then again, where has THAT ever gotten me?!
Oh, love. Where and how?
Guard our hearts, Lord...
Let it be only by you.