Finding love is like buying a pillow.

Each isle is like a different place you go in life. Pillows are never where you think they are, well you finally find them. You look at all your choices, firm, soft, extra firm, extra soft, memory foam, goose down, polyester blends, small ones, long ones, thick ones, thin ones. You grab one feel it with your hands to see if it meets your standards (like small talk exchanging numbers and what not) place it in your buggy. Push it to the front of the store, while thinking, "is this one right for me? Is it better than the one I had before?" Well you buy it. Put it in your car (which is like "talking") you stop by your parents house, say something to your mom about your new pillow. She jumps up says "you shouldn't have bought one, I have tons" walks back with your pillow from high school (This is running into old flames) and a few others you've never seen before (these are the ton of new people that pop up when you have spotted your new crush). Now you have three pillows. Take your pillows to your room now you don't know which is really going to make you happy. You try your old one from high school and it smells way too bad to keep in the room and you remember why you left it. Now for the other mom pushed on ya, but you didn't pick it out you have no connection with it, just doesn't feel right. The one you picked out is left. You lay down, it feels weird. So you push on it, fold it each night still wondering if it's right for you. Soon you have shaped it to how you like it. Never thinking a thing about it after a while. Then one day you stay out of town, something is missing. It hits you all you want is your pillow, it makes everything right. Now you know you picked the right person.


The moral to this story is: if you have a lot of pillows you're a whore.