This story is almost too perfect. He's 39, lives with his mom, owns a sword, and he's not afraid to use it.
Why do I get the feeling that he hoped the damsel in distress would overlook his distended belly, patchy facial hair, pattern baldness, and "Wisconsin Civil War Re-Enactment Society" t-shirt, and fall passionately in love with her sword-brandishing rescuer?
It's one thing to watch porn; it's quite another to try to live it.
Talking to yourself is a sign of impending mental collapse.
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