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And you're lovely.
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And you are not wearing that "fugly" sweater anymore.
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Amen.
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So go. So go bone. Bone away.
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Thank you! Amazing.
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Now, uh, do you have, like, a stash of condoms?
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Because judging by the tingly feeling I get
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every time Trent brushes up against me,
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I'm pretty sure relations are fully achievable.
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You know what I'm saying?
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You OK with this?
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OK.