You all know the story. Dana Hamm broke my heart. Long before I decided to live my life as a Monk (with a secret Internet connection, cuz even a monk's gotta make some side cash), I was just your typical insanely and insatiably horny red blooded American male. And then I saw some photos of Dana Hamm. Not some waif with photoshopped thigh gaps and miscolor-corrected eyes. A #Boobalicious beauty with measurements that just don't make sense, with a sexuality in her face that just cannot be denied. Ah, I fell in love with this woman, just through her pictures, and then — like fate intervening into my fantasies — we met through my passionate work for this website. And instantly, Dana knew I was the man for her. But when she wouldn't run away with me, neither forever nor for just 15 minutes at a short stay motel, I knew in my heart no other woman would ever capture my imagination like Dana, my own very personal slice of delicious breakfast Hamm.
I miss you Dana.
I still love you.
But I have to go, because Wednesday is pots and pans day, and it's my turn to scrub.
The way I used to want to scrub your back in the shower.
Uh oh. The other monks can hear me cry. I gotta log off. TTYL!
(Quick note: Tweet Me Here)
