I Love You, “I Love the 90s,”by
but I’m Not in Love with You
There are so many things about you worth loving.
Here, hold my hand while I say this. I need a little strength.
First of all, you’re super funny. You never really stop with the jokes, do you? Hour after hour, minute after minute, you’re constantly breaking down those pop-culture references. I can’t stop laughing when I’m with you, as much as I’d like to try. (It’s true, it did bother me when I said I’d like to get serious for a moment, and you said, “Well then why don’t you try Lifetime instead?” But maybe I needed to be put in my place.)
Plus you’re clearly brilliant—what an impeccable memory you have for the cultural details and events of the last decade. I’m certain that’s a quality that will take you far in this world. Perhaps you could find your fame and fortune on “Jeopardy.”
And I know that you’re stable and dependable, that I could count on you for years to come. You’ve always been around when I needed you (your repeat schedule is like clockwork), and, to be honest, even when I didn’t know I needed you at all.
But I’m never going to love you like you love me. Oh, I don’t know—maybe I’m just not ready for something serious right now. Maybe I’m not mature enough to handle your capacity for wide-ranging reflection and sentimentality. Clearly it’s me, not you.
So I’m going to Vegas with “Best Week Ever.” Yes, I know he’s capricious, and ever-changing, and he’s got new issues every week. But his spontaneity makes me laugh like a carefree little girl, and he’s not so studied or meticulous, not obsessive like some people. “Best Week Ever” lives in the moment, while you, “I Love the 90s,” live in the past.
Plus he’s got a huge cock.