My girl

“So, anyways, I’ve met someone…”


“Oooooh, Danny’s met a chick.”

“No, not a chick. A girl.”

“A babe!”

“Not a babe, and actually, not a girl. She’s a woman.”

“She’s your woman?”

“No, not ‘my woman’, she’s my…”

“Your main squeeze?”


“She a hottie?”

“No, she’s …”

“She’s not hot?”

“Actually, yes, she’s smoking hot, but no, I wouldn’t call her a hottie. I’ll text you a photo.”

“Your better half?”


“Your baby doll?”



“Boo yourself.”



“A friend with benefits?”

“Stop it.”

“Your bitch?”

“Stop it! Just stop.”

“The old ball and chain?”

“How could she be? We just met.”

“A gal? A lady?”

“Yes. Yes, she’s a lady.”

“What’s she like?”

“What is she like? She’s nice. Smart, very smart. Caring. Funny, oh, so funny.”

“Is she hot?”

“Yes, Mom, she’s hot. I sent you a photo.”

“Hold on… don’t hang up… OK … got it. She looks very nice, and natural. I like her already.”

“Me, too.”

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