I decided on you, don’t you get that? I decided on you. I don’t want to go fucking other people and then walk around feeling thrilled and then sad, or empty, or whatever. I like the smell of your hair, and I like the sound of your voice, and I fucking decided on you.
You beat a woman and drag her down a flight of stairs, pulling her hair out by the roots? You’re the fourth guy taken in the NFL draft. You kill people while driving drunk? That guy’s welcome. Players caught in hotel rooms with illegal drugs and prostitutes? We know they’re welcome. Players accused of rape and pay the woman to go away? You lie to police, trying to cover up a murder? We’re comfortable with that. You love another man? Well, now you’ve gone too far!