It's a well-know fact that chicks flip for the Budster. They fly off the handle. Ask my first and seventh wife, Sheila Cornucopia. It's been proven in city after city, country after country, on continent after continent. Bud E. Luv is the most. How many languages has it been said in? Too many to count.
To want me is merely to be alive. To feel the rush. To feel it sweep over you like the morning tide on a beach in Maine. Your mood may be stormy. It may be peaceful. The desire may come upon you softly. Or perhaps it hits you like a bucket of water in the face. It doesn't matter how the feeling encompasses your being. All that matters is that you crave me, and that I am the most.
I was dating at six. By the time I was eight, I was engaged. But I broke it off - we were wrong for each other. At eleven, the girls were calling me Mr. Ed. By fourteen, I had changed my telephone number three times. Man, was I popular.
But I like to think it was more than my body. Like Marilyn, there was something tragic and vulnerable about me. Something in my look, something in my eyes that made the chicks want to be close, to learn more. I don't think I've ever lost that special appeal.
Now, you cats are thinking, "Hey, Bud E., tell us how we can get the chicks." Read on, my friend. Follow the hyperlinks. Read. Learn. Live.