Exhibit A: I’m fucking gorgeous.

It’s true. I’m a beautiful specimen of a man. I’d rank myself easily in the top 1% of attractive people in the world. I’m so damn sexy I can hardly stand it.

I once walked shirtless past a mirror, saw it out of the corner of my eye, didn’t realize it was me, and started discreetly checking myself out. I only realized it was me once I saw the massive boner in the reflection.

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Exhibit B: I’m easily the funniest person I know.

I find myself fucking hysterical. And it’s true. I am fucking hysterical. You’ll only think so if you’re REAL fucked up, but still.

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Exhibit C: I’m a total freak in the sheets.

I’ll rock your world, give you a one-way ticket to Pound Town, an express ride to Smash City, and bring you along on an excursion to Erectionopolis.

This is really the only one that matters. If I dated myself, we would barely even speak. We’d just bang. Constantly. You’re allowed water breaks every 6 hours. That’s it.

Those three things make me an ideal person to date.

I’ll leave you with a super quick personal story that also shows how caring and considerate I am.