I Have No Idea Why I Wrote This

Gotta Get Ready

He looked me in the eye and told me he loved me. 

My name is Jane Holland, and I'm 23 years old, married. I don't know what this little manuscript is going to make you think of me, but here goes. 

We were going to Valentino's, and Italian restaurant I like to go to. My husband, Lucas Holland, suggested we get out of the house for a night of "relief." Being classic me, I decided, "Why the hell not?" and made the decision of spending seventy five bucks. 

Earlier that day, I sat down on my lush red leather couch and glanced at my slightly light brown skin every few seconds. I sighed and looked at my T.V, wondering what I was going to wear for this "special occasion." Nothing too fancy, I thought. Just gotta look nice, because people will think I'm homeless and don't c-
I cut myself off short. "Hmm," I said to myself. I looked down at my couch and smiled slyly. I knew EXACTLY what I was going to wear. I ran over to my closet and searched for my velvet red dress, with a cut right down the area where my thigh would me, (I did this myself) and put it on. I fixed my hair, brushed my teeth again, (it had only been a few hours since I had done so) and sot down back on the couch. I stared at my reflection in the T.V and smiled. "You're a sexy bitch, Jane Holland. Whether you like it or not," I said to myself. I pulled out my phone and went to Twitter, and then realized that my husband was getting off of work. 

Jane Holland may or may not get laid tonight.