Dear Metro Crush,

I see you every morning waiting for the Orange line, and I know you've noticed me too. We like to ride in the same car and exchange shy, but interested, glances. You are so adorable, like a clean-cut Billy Joe Armstrong. I thought things were going really well until one morning you reached into your bag and pulled out…a bible. A bible! WTF? And you brought it the next day too. I can't fantasize about hot metro sex when you are over there with your nose stuck in the Book of Mark. Sorry Billie Joe, you are clearly not the undercover rock sex god I'd imagined.

Still checking you out though…

Thanks so much!


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