My heart bleeded, girl

Lance continues to try and kill me. I keep imagining him and Jesse getting ready together, getting dressed, doing their make-up. God.

What kills me the most? The backs of his knees. I can't look away from the backs of his knees.

Every time I think he can't possibly do any more, can't possibly get any hotter, he does. He does things like jumping out of a plane, or getting a new tattoo, or hanging a bloody dick out of his pants. Wait, hot might not be the word I'm looking for for that one. I haven't decided on a word yet for that, actually.

I knew I was right to make him my number one, lo those many well, okay, two years ago. He hasn't failed me yet.