Throw Me A Bone, Saint Valentine

With Valentine’s day only a few days away, love is really in the air. Well, at least that’s what I’ve been told although I can’t catch a whiff of it to save my life. Frankly, I have to say that with the combination of my sparkling personality and impeccable good looks, I’m a little surprised nobody has tried to put a ring on this finger yet.

Who wouldn’t want to wake up next to this face for life?

I don’t like to brag, but I really have my ducks in a row. I mean, most of the ducks are dead because I forgot to feed them but they are in a straight line, damn it.

When I walk into a room, it immediately gets classier. I haven’t punched anyone in the face in over a week and in my defense, it was his own fault for forgetting to give me my pickle with my ham sandwich.

Speaking of class, you will never catch me at a bar without at least 2 drinks in hand. Isn’t that what every guy wants in the girl he brings home to his mom?

And assuming you catch me on one of the days I showered, I smell like a rose garden.

I don’t require much in a man, really. I mean, sure I have a few deal breakers like the basics:

1.    Eating any sort of condiment within the first month of knowing me. This one is pretty standard, I would guess. I mean, what if he goes in for the kiss and there’s still a bit of mustard in his mouth?  I will head-butt your ass.

2.    Any sort of jewelry what-so-ever, even if your dead grandfather gave it to you. I mean, no disrespect… RIP and all but the jewelry has got to go.

3.    Men with small dogs. (Disgusting.)

So throw me a bone here, Saint Valentine. A non-dressing eating, family-oriented, hilarious and rich man-shaped bone please.