I love like I’m thirsty. Can I offer you a tall glass of Sahara sand?

We made love like green is blue. That’s because we were only half into it, though for the record I was the blue and she was the disinterested yellow.

I’m a dog lover and sex addict. Those two things are unrelated.

If you have the woman you love, what more do you need? Well, besides an alibi for the time of her husband’s murder.

The cops have no idea where my cave is, and your first package has yet to be delivered.”

I love being in love, but I also love other things, like not being jealous, overly sensitive, or needy.

We made love like a half a minute. I brought the thirty seconds, and she provided the excuse as to why she didn’t have enough time to have sex with me.

To find out if she really loved me, I hooked her up to a lie detector. And just as I suspected, my machine was broken.

politician,” and must be destroyed.

I love that she loves me a 10, on a 5-point scale. Well, I know it’s a 5-point scale, though I asked her on a 1-100 scale.

Love is a banana. First you peel it, and then you roll on the condom.

I love full on, like 65 mph in a handicapped parking spot.

I had a dream about you. You looked like you, but you also looked like a mannequin. And I looked like me, but I also looked like a mannequin. Between the two of us, we were too fake even for Hollywood. And as such, we were forced to reside in Washington DC.

I make love with a focus and intensity that most people reserve for sleep.

Love isn’t two matching unicycles. Love is a bicycle—and mine just got stolen.

I had a dream about you. At first you were a mannequin, and I was a fashion designer. Then, inexplicably, we switched roles and I became the mannequin. But instead of putting clothes on me, you laughed at my nakedness, and you sold me to the owner of a sex shop.

Making love to me is amazing. Wait, I meant: making love, to me, is amazing. The absence of two little commas nearly transformed me into a sex god.

We had an unspoken love for one another. Probably because she’d never talk to me or return my phone calls or texts.

The only time I drink milk is when I drink coffee. I make love the same way—contributing 2% as I just sort of lay there.

Let me be clear: I don’t want to make love to a mannequin—I want to make love like a mannequin. Oh, if only I were that animated in bed.

She told me she loved me. She told me a lot of things. Some of those things were true, and some of those may or may not have been true. It’s kind of hard to tell, because to be honest, I wasn’t listening.

In bed, I can go for hours. Oh yes, I love naps.

I am in love, and the river is beginning to ice over. I’d better go drown myself before I freeze to death.

Our love was a two-person game. At least until one of us died, and the other became a murderer.

We made love like two people trying to make love like three people in the trunk of a car.

I am the Trolley of Love. Free rides before noon and after 11:58 am!

Love is like encountering a forest and having to chop down every tree but one. Oh, and you have to chop down each tree by hugging it until it falls.

I make love like sausage is to bacon as brick is to blanket. Somebody get me some utensils. And some lubrication (not Castrol Motor Oil).

Dinner was great, but I could go for dessert.

Love is meant to be sipped, rather than chugged, like a glass of wine you drink strait from the bottle.

I make love like farm equipment—not to farm equipment. There is a difference, though my cousin can’t tell it.

I unwrapped my love for her like one might unwrap leftovers. Gotta eat up the old stuff first, as a cannibal might say in a retirement home.

Love is inaudible—until you hear it. And once you do, you’ll never forget the sound of her voice.

I make love like a snake disguised as an elephant and a donkey. But I mustn’t talk about sexual congress and Congress simultaneously.