I would do anything for love, but I won’t do that.

I hate cold-calling. I like my phone calls warm, like meatloaf.

My love is meatloaf flavored. I just wish my meatloaf was also meatloaf flavored.

I’m a fan of Meatloaf. He has a voice like it’s covered in thick gravy. There’s nothing better to make love to, with the possible exception of grandma’s casserole.

I hated meatloaf. It was like something that Satan pooped out after an eternity of constipation. So I told Mom because I was honest that way. I sat back, squared my shoulders, and met her...

We made eyes at each other, and then we made love. We also made other things too, like meatloaf.

My bedroom is a fridge with a window, because I can’t sleep unless it’s cold. I cuddle like warm meatloaf, but hardly ever with warm meatloaf.

Meatloaf is graphable in how far ahead it is in likeability categories. You can also play Mop the Floor with it. I make love like I make dinner that makes cleaning the kitchen more fun...

A little part of me dies every time I try to commit suicide. If life is a buffet, I’m still in the mac and cheese phase. Maybe one day I’ll mature into more of a...

I smell like cat snuggles and sex, though from two different activities. I have just perfected my meatloaf-flavored ice cream, if you want to grab a spork.

Leave me with my leftover meatloaf and my Yesterday Sandwich. I’ll be in love tomorrow, if you come back with the ketchup.

Love is like meatloaf—don’t make it after midnight, unless you’re wearing a condom.

Meatloaf is meatloaf is not a true statement. You can have gravy on top, ketchup on top, and don’t forget you can also have love on top–however, you must understand that I would do anything,...

I am your Wednesday Sex Meatloaf. At least, I’d like to be. This Tuesday I have a vacancy, if you like leftovers from six days before.

I don’t understand people who don’t like meatloaf. Your mom doesn’t make it like Michael Aday does.

I’m a little more reserved in person than people expect. But I warm up quickly, like leftovers. Meatloaf, anyone?

meatloaf” you’ll be serving them.

Love is all around. I don’t need your leftovers, ma’am. Not unless you’re offering meatloaf.

I love meatloaf.” Of all the things I could have said, that summed up what I hoped our relationship would one day become.

I loved her like meatloaf. Our love was the kind covered in ketchup—and not gravy.

Our meeting will keep, but my meatloaf and bowl of masturbation in the fridge won’t. Everybody at the political campaign loves when I bring food.