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Oh, there she is! Man she’s so beautiful. Just look at her. Look at the way the sun reflects off her long golden hair. Like a halo. Why not? I mean, she is an angel!

She has such an incredible body: trim, strong, athletic, but very feminine. She’s just the right size, too. That cute, pert nose is at perfect kissing height. Especially in those sexy boots! Mmmmmm… we’d fit together like spoons!

But it’s her eyes… those incredible, mystical eyes, so perfectly blue. I can tell even from here. And they’re so darkly mysterious. What secrets lay hidden behind those lush sapphires of yours?

I wish those eyes would look my way… just once. But what would I say to her?

Hello, angel.

No, you idiot, that’s so stupid!

But I’d think of something. It wouldn’t matter what, she’d respond. Of course she would, she’s always talking to someone.

Oh, what a sexy mouth! With the sweetest cherry lips, it’s so dainty and kissable… if she ever stopped talking.

Hummm… how come I never noticed that before? She does seem to talk quite a bit. I hope she’s not one of those women who talk all of the time. But it’d be worth it.

I just know she has the cutest, softest voice. Still, some women do talk a lot. But she’d find me a great listener. And I’d do everything right… everything women want men to do: romantic evenings; fine dining; the theatre. I’d even sit through a chick flick with her.

As long as she didn’t yak during the whole picture.

I’m gonna do it! I’m gonna walk right over there and say, “Hello.”

Just as soon as she stops talking.

No need to be rude.

What was that?

Was that her laughing? It sounded like a hog rooting! It must have been that dorky guy next to her. I knew a woman who laughed that way. It was embarrassing.

It couldn’t have been her.

I’ll just wait here a minute.

Is that a Fendi Purse? It is… wow, that purse cost more that I make in a week! What kind of woman has a purse that expensive and rides the bus?

Porsche in the garage there beautiful?

He he he… then again, look at her clothes. She’s always so stylishly dressed, and made up to perfection; so cute without a hair out of place.

I’ll bet she follows the high fashion magazines. You know the type: Gucci; Versachi; purple martinis in the trendiest clubs, one of the beautiful people. She’s definitely high maintenance. They make me sick with their perfect cars; perfect jobs; perfect clothes; perfect hair, and tiny little perfect cell phones, always texting somebody, updating their Facebook.

She probably wouldn’t give me the time of day.

But she’s oh so pretty!

Gee… when she turned I thought I saw dark roots in her hair. It could just be the sun…

… maybe she dyes it. She’s probably not a blonde at all.

I hate fake people…

… even the gorgeous ones.

I’ll bet she’s got fifty guys on a string. She’s probably not into relationships, feels she’s too good for just one man. People like that are shallow… shallow and insincere. She probably got where she is on her looks.

Her looks… ha! That’s a laugh: a bottle blonde with fake nails; false eyes lashes; tinted contacts, and a knock off Fendi.

I wonder how much that stuck up nose of hers cost. Got a sugar daddy stashed somewhere, do ya, baby?

And you want to date me?

I don’t think so, honey.

I’ll show her, I’ll just wait here for the next bus…

… but she’s so beautiful!


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