Your Black and Gray Valentine


It’s February 14th, Hallmark thinks you should be shacking up and chivalrous—more so the second half as they gouge you for $3.99-$5.99 for corny ass card. Don’t get us wrong, we love romance, we just don’t like anything being forced on us (without a safe word). Fuck pre-fixe dinner reservations, fuck paying seven-times over cost for a magnum of champagne, and definitely fuck crummy chocolates. Valentine’s Day should be like every other romantic night. You and your partner in comfortable house clothes—like Stefani Chapman here in a bodysuit and high socks—writhing around in your place with a smooth black and white movie on in the background. She teases you from across the room, you catch glimpses of her tattooed flesh every few seconds but restrain yourself from pouncing. You wait, you anticipate, you wait some more, Humphrey Bogart flashes onto the screen and gives you a wink. Go get her, she’s the stuff that dreams are made of.

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