If I somehow wound up going steady with WWE superstar Lana (real name: C.J. Perry)—as if, by sheer luck, she wouldn’t notice how weak I am, both physically and morally—I’d go so absurdly mad with power from the get-go. My rate of picking fights I can’t finish would skyrocket (and it’s not even remotely low at this point). I mean, with her strength, curves, and Soviet Union upbringing, this magnificent woman could be the Katya Kazanova to my Sterling Archer!
My dirty talk game would evolve too. Instead of the usual feverish parade of insane things I drop in the bedroom, like “Whip wilder, you naughty fire-cat” or “We should totally move in together,” I’m pretty sure I’d start laying down some heavy dirty talk, saying things like, “Throw me across the room like a crash-test dummy and don’t apologize when I start crying” or “No, listen, I know I say this all the time in the throes of passion, but I mean it, we should totally move in together.”
I’m in it to win it, and so begins my carefully structured plan of going about my days and nights like nothing’s changed as I quietly wait for her to randomly swoop into my life and (literally) sweep me off my feet because she thinks of me as a 6’4” puppy who won’t survive without her help and care. Foolproof.
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