Let’s not talk about sex, baby. Take off your penis glove and slip a grip on a pencil instead.
We’re about to get emotionally intimate, not physically into it. So, yeah. Hey boyfriend, tuck away your D, and whip out your P because chances are you’re giving your girlfriend bore-gasms.
For an article with a G-rated headline, TV-14 subheading, and a for-mature-audience-only sounding intro, I promise that I am giving you what’s stated: A love-letter template designed exclusively for the man whose inner poet currently only exists in the swerve of his hips.
Leaving love notes just might be the key to prolonging your relationship by more days than the number of condoms in a box.
Unless you’re one of those lads escalading into adulthood with a Costco membership that allows you to purchase rubbers in bulk.
Yay to safe sex, but boo to both you and your partner’s bursts of vocal pleasure that lustfully overruns opportunity for emotional nakedness.
For starters, let’s go over the basic formatting of a letter. You need not be nervous in learning the lingo of romance novelist Nicholas Sparks, as this does not even require a bachelor’s degree in English. At a minimum, be willing to learn, and ready to ooze your frilliest feelings.
Letters are traditionally stacked like so:
Love letters, on the other hand, require a little more thought in structure and content:
March 69, 2018
Really? There is no day 69 on the calendar. Is her booty all you think about?
March 26, 2018
We’re off to a better start.
Hey Hot Stuff What’s cookin’ good lookin’? My Pumpkin,
You’re trying too hard.
This is where you swap “Girlfriend” with your significant other’s name.
My commitment to you is an unwavering choice I make every day that syncs the frequency of my heart beats with yours…
Impress her. Flex your way with words, not your abs.
Darling, you do not complete me, but please comprehend this statement as the tribute to your willingness to let me soar. You hype every one of my intentions to reach farther, aim higher, and dream more daringly about my goals, which you continuously push me to achieve.
The sap should be hurl-worthy at this point. However, you can dilute the sugar-load by jotting a bulleted list of all the times she anchored you down and adjusted your sails through vigorous winds.
Though, don’t word everything as nautically because instead of wiping her happy tears, you might have to hold her hair.
Your snoring plows sounds of congested bumblebees through my ears.
Be nice, please. Honesty is endearing until you forget about the part where you curb your almost-insult by ending on a sweeter note.
In the morning when you wake me by battering gusts from your eyelashes…
It’s best you change “gusts” to “a breeze,” but I think I like where this is going.
Feeling like P. Diddy.
There’s a time and place to be funny. Now’s the time to be animated with the passion you have for her beauty.
I view you from the angle of your double chin, and even though you look kind of funny, I love you anyway.
If been here. I’ve heard this. In a more “you’re ugly kind of way…” Is it that difficult to fib a little for the sake of her self-confidence, which she already masters with or without you?!
Also, if your lips and tongue still haven’t tangoed to sound the phrase of three words and eight letters to her face, do not tell her this way.
But I am lucky to wake up to your weather.
Boyfriend, now’s your chance to ramble. Ramble about why her chilly feet on your shins, even when it’s 3o degrees indoors, is more comforting than your duvet will ever be. Ramble about why she will still be beautiful when her hair starts to fall like leaves in November.
Ramble in your own voice, though.
Sign off with your own name, of course.
How to not eff up:
1. If you’re going to write in cursive, do not speak in cursive.
You best be sober while doing this.
2. Do not be that loser who copies every single bolded portion of this article verbatim.
If so, I know you’re totally that person who stuffs a five-dollar bill in a Hallmark greeting card and calls it a thoughtful gift for their best friend. Even worse, you do sign the card with your name, but you don’t even scribble in a little extra handwritten blurb.
This is the time that we part ways. You’re going to Shakespeare up this thang you’ve got going on with your girl and I’m gonna go blast “Mine” by Bazzi now (and maybe you should too).