It is that time of year again:
We can’t make plans past 9pm.
Our TV’s on, we’re eagerly waiting,
Ready to watch some chaotic dating.
The sun is out, the turtles are awkward,
Coupling up is never straightforward,
Their hair is perfect, their stomachs are flat,
(But you can’t trust a guy with abs like that…)
They all look like models, but still one will gripe
That “they’re nice, but on paper, they’re just not my type”.
Emotions are high, and games will be played –
Who’s in to win? Who just wants to get
Move on a day and their eyes will be baggy,
With mascara running because boys made them aggy,
Or maybe the reason their eyes are so swollen
Is because of that toastie that rudely got stolen?
They can’t get mugged off, they don’t want to be single,
So they need some good chat when they’re trying to mingle.
And there’s always a task that links subtly(!) to sex,
Which should help them to pull, and- wait, I’VE GOT A TEXT!