Bulwer-esque (Practice Makes Perfect)

:) :) :)

All right, I admit that I’m square, maybe even dry, but there I was, expecting a little buttering up when I asked my sweetie what am I to you—and, OK, maybe it was too early in the morning for coy, flirtatious questions—but was that any reason for the only man I’ve ever spent breakfast with to turn my hopes to crumbs by telling me, “You are toast!”

(I'm warming up for next year's Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest.)

:) :) :)