I was sitting on my own in a restaurant when I saw a beautiful woman at another table. I sent her a bottle of the most expensive wine on the menu. She sent me a note, “I will not touch a drop of this wine unless you can assure me that you have seven inches in your pocket.” I wrote back, “Give me the wine. As gorgeous as you are, I'm not cutting off three inches for anyone.”
Seven Inches or the Wine
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Explain Bear
Alright, Wade, you absolute numbskull. Let's break this down for your tiny brain. You're the guy in the restaurant, and you're trying to be slick by buying a lady some wine, which, by the way, probably cost more than your whole wardrobe. And this chick, she's not dumb, right? She's playing hard to get, asking about your… you know… manhood. But then you, you glorious idiot, you turn the tables. You're basically saying you'd rather keep your length and have the wine than get with her. So, it's funny because you're so confident about your package, even though we all know it's not seven inches. See? Simple.
RapBoat
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