I 've got to get out of here .

I 've got to get out of here . In the previous accounts I told about my old boyfriends, from the first to the penultimate. The last one was Mario, for whom I fell in love to the point of marrying him. And we were not allowed to stay in our house because he was beautiful and rich, on the contrary, of normal and poor beauty, he had nothing to offer to an ambitious girl, which was not my case. We met on the street, I stayed with my friends from the republic walking through the square of the small town where we lived and always hitting on the boys who were in cars or motorcycles. At that time Mario was riding on a motorcycle and the next street in front of our house was his usual path. One Sunday afternoon, after many years of exchanges of glances, feeling very peaceful, I resolutely decided to stop the motorcycle and like to talk to me and my girlfriends. We were going to stay in our house with him. And it was not because he was a young man with a thick cheek. We were going to be able to stay in our house with him. And it was not because he was beautiful and rich, on the contrary, on the contrary, of normal and poor beauty, we had nothing to offer to an ambitious girl, which was not my case. We met on the street, we met on the street, I stood in the street, I stood with my sister, I laughed, I laughed, and I had no idea that he would be able to kiss me, but when he would be able to kiss and hug me, but he had a little kiss and kiss me, but when I was a little bit more than a little bit more than a little bit of my dearly, he would be able to kiss me, but he would take me, he would be in the middle of my face.