“I blame it on his pants.”

“A moment of reserve. "That was it? The whole story?""Yes. God, you're right. That was pants."I sidestep another aggressive couscous vendor. "Pants?""Rubbish. Crap. Shite."Pants. Oh heavens, that's cute.”

“That was pants.”

“It sucked balls.Dirty balls. Like I-ran-a-mile-in-July-while-wearing-leather-pants balls.”

“I told him your loins were clearly burning, and he should man up and make a move.""You did not!""I did. And if he doesn't, then I suggest you jump his bones."...I finally register what he's wearing. It's a handsome skinny black suit with a shiny sheen. The pants are too short - on purpose, of course - exposing his usual pointy shoes and a pair of blue socks that match my dress exactly.And I totally want to jump him.”

“One regular, clockworkorange88, said this: It sucked balls. Dirty balls. Like I-ran-a-mile-in-July-while-wearing-leather-pants balls.Sounds about right.”

“I draw him closer by his tie and whisper into his ear, "Cricket Bell, I have been in love with you for my entire life.”