Homosexual Heartbreak

When I was living in a square state, I was dating a man with a southern accent. I flew him to the ocean and made love with him in front of a fireplace. I showed him waterfalls, moss covered trees and hidden caves. We drank wine in a hot tub. On a morning hike, we picked berries and made pancakes. He even gave me head while I was driving a convertible through the rain.

I knew I would ask him to marry me one day.

Shortly after that trip, Mt. Dew was having a contest, and you checked to see if you had won anything by looking underneath the cap. At the exact moment my boyfriend dumped me, I opened my bottle and it read:

“Sorry, please try again.”