We Should Have Moved To Stockholm (Syndrome)

| France | Romantic | April 1, 2017

(I live in a small provincial town in the French countryside, very close to a huge abandoned castle that no one ever talks about for some reason. It’s a nice enough village, but I am so ahead of all the villagers that I don’t really have time for many of them – even though they are all in agreement that I am the most beautiful girl in the village. There is this one guy who doesn’t seem to get the hint. Admittedly, he’s handsome, but also rude and conceited. I’m walking through the village one day, my head stuck in a book, when he approaches me.)

Guy: “Bonjour, [My Name Which Means ‘Beauty’]

Me: “Bonjour, [Guy].”

Guy: “Why are you always reading? Why aren’t you focusing on more important things, like me?”

Me: *rolling my eyes* “Sorry, [Guy], but you’re just not my type.”

Guy: “What’s wrong with me! I’m the most handsome man in the village!”

Me: “Yes, but I want so much more than this provincial life.”

Guy: “And I use antlers in all of my decorating!”

Me: “Yes, but—”

Guy: “I’m especially good at expectorating!”

Me: “Interesting choice of words, but—”

Guy: “And every last inch of me is covered in hair!”

Me: “Oh, really? Well, I like them really hairy, but no.”

Guy: “What will it take for you to be with me?!”

Me: “Okay, look, I’ve been patient with you, but you want to know what really turns me on? I like my guys big and brutish, with a bad temper and aggressive, like REALLY aggressive. They need to treat my father like s*** and keep me locked up against my will – totally dominate me, basically. Oh, it also helps if you’re insanely rich.”

Guy: “But… but that’s awful!”

Me: “Don’t judge what I’m into!”

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