Mismatched Units

Haphazardly, you introduce us as a totally mismatched unit! Winnie Dollpool's my mate. It is an illustrious affair--she is much older than I and aerobically damages the scales when weighin in! On her lean days she weighs twice as much as I. I spite of her hemming and hawing, she exhibits half my I.Q. What's my level of involvement? In light of her devout Catholic upbringing, I'm not attracted to Winnie, religiously. It is her small brain that threw me for a rapturous loop. Initially, when she first opens her mouth, I'm physically attracted to her crusty molar dentition and extreme halitosis. She has quite the limitless proboscis. Dark in color, she is primarily negroid. I'm a stalwart caucasian. Let's call a spade a spade. Wearing light coored clothes, she douses her underarms with heavily perfuced talcum baby powder. Let bygones pass, uninterrupted. Clinging close to my side, Winnie adulates me. I've readily accepted this bizarre entanglement in a semi-classical format. When I'm not pumping gas, I totally involve myself in her savory seduction. Being presented with factual misgivings, I relinquish portraits of my materal domicile. Soon, I sullenly acknowledge "Born-Again Christians," sporting tattered red and green Christmas stockings. Winnie, would you please wait outside while I gather together our clothing from these inharmonious vestibules? Fully dressed, we slowly amble toward the downtown area. We sincerely focus on what we do best alone, and as a loving couple--shop!