Is that I really am a decent guy, though it is covered up by my strange obsessions and willingness to tell everyone everything.
Example -
I met a girl the other day, she was nice enough but had a chili bowl haircut which I was sure went out of style in 1989, but anyway... I for some reason felt the need to relate to her that when I was in kindergarten I had went to school with a chili bowl haircut and after I saw that and looked at my dick I found an uncanny resemblance. So, my dick has been known as Theresa ever since because of something that I saw years ago. My strange obsessive mind actually went ahead and changed my cock's last name to Smith a couple of years ago, because I was sure that Theresa had gotten married to some gent by now and since I did not know her new last name I went generic. I thought that it was a sweet enough story, yet it seemed to get a lukewarm reception from her.
Why did I feel the need to tell this woman that I had just met in a hotel lobby such things about myself?
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