What splendour, what magnificence.
There was not a single attractive quality that William T. Spears lacked. How was it that someone could be so unnaturally perfect? Oh, yes, the mere thought of it almost made him tear up at the thought of such masculine beauty, such masculine perfection. His hands would shake, and his heart would quiver, and he could feel passion comparable to no other. In his thoughts he'd find himself reciting Shakespeare, sighing in content as images of his bewitching knight played across his mind. Oh, he was the crimson damsel in distress…
"He shan't ever be mine."