Pedestrian TV hosted a big Caligula-style blowout, and the attendees' sex party antics reminded us of the trajectory of every single one of our relationships. Read on for an epic tale of love and failure.
We looked everywhere, but could never find that special someone. People, people everywhere, and not a one to nail.
We didn't get it. We were cute and had breasts. Why couldn't we find a mate?
Yet it seemed as if everyone was hiding his true self from us.
Everyone except him. He wore his heart on his chest.
He was perfect. We were so happy that we couldn't blink.
He even had a distinctive tattoo so that, should his face ever be terribly disfigured, we would still be able to recognize him.
Oh, how smug we were at having found him! We paraded our victory for all to see.
But the first time we made sweet, sweet, awkward-ass love, we had very different reactions.
It was clear we weren't enough for him. He immediately requested orgies.
Yes, someone's father showed up for the debauchery.
There were other issues as well. Sometimes he looked like a Norfin Troll.
Our friends were like, "Dude, we're pretty sure that he literally can't close his mouth." And we were like, "Shut up, Courtney and Chelsea, it's this cute thing he does."
He brought his disheveled, apathetic, handgun-loving friend everywhere with him.
We drowned our feelings of dissatisfaction in liquor.
We drank hard. With a vengeance.
We spent a lot of time brooding while our friends tried to use evocative finger gestures to comfort us.
Eventually, our chums' exhortations and cuddle attacks began to get through to us.
They - and our fabulous breasts - eventually helped us realize that we would love again.
[All photos from The Cobra-Snake]