Sometimes, saying "I love you" just isn't enough, especially if you have a habit of adultery or punching your girlfriend's mom or whatever. In those cases you have to go the extra mile and do something to prove your love. But be warned: that extra mile is sometimes an insane, depressing one.
Right now, somewhere in the world, someone who summoned their inspiration from a bottle of Thunderbird thought to themselves, "I'm getting a tattoo to show my love!" Thus, they'll forever be saddled with "Starla" on their bicep despite the fact Starla now lives across the country with a dude who's on disability.
It could be worse. Alan Jenkins, father of two, husband of 15 years, figured he'd go one better and get a life size portrait of his entire family on his back for just under $1500. The tattoo took 20 hours to complete and probably not once during the entire ordeal did he stop to ponder how ridiculous he'd feel if it turned out that his wife was, say, boning another dude.
Anyway, after almost a whole day under the needle, Jenkins had his wish: A tattoo that made his family look like they were stuck in a cheesy 80s television intro sequence.
Those of you who can't read html will be surprised to know that while Alan was busy loving his wonderful family so much he needed them embedded several layers deep into his back, his wife was riding a fitness instructor 11-years younger than him like a show pony. In fact, we'd imagine his wife was reminded of how much better Kaspars Gavars looked without a shirt on.
Alan had grown suspicious when he noticed Kaspars giving his wife lifts to work. Eventually his wife admitted to the affair and then kicked Alan out of the house so she could move the new man in.
The most disturbing thing about this is the photos that appeared in the Daily Mail. Notice how Lisa is wearing the same fucking clothes and there are the same trees in both shots? It's because they are in the same location. This suggests that Alan had to show up and pose with his family and ridiculous tattoo before his wife went to pose with the dude she left him for. Hey, the paper had to finish their story, and Kaspars's career as a fitness instructor could use the free publicity that banging another man's wife might bring.
Originality is a dying art when it comes to wedding proposals, every idea under the sun has been tried at least once before, but there is nothing wrong with dusting off an old chestnut and trying to spruce it up a bit. That's exactly what Reed Harris intended to do after dropping the engagement ring in a big Wendy's "Frosty" milkshake during a social gathering with friends. Nothing says romance quite as explicitly as square beef patties.
The friends were in on the act and had set-up their phones to film the whole event, in a move that might have clued Harris's girlfriend in had he not been careful to invite only the friends who typically film their lunches.
They all sat and watched Harris eagerly wait for his girlfriend, Kaitlin Whipple, to bite into something solid. Except she never did. Impatient, and unable to ponder cause and effect, someone challenged Whipple to a race to the bottom of the Frosty cup. Whipple sucked that ice creamy goodness back like a python devouring the neighbor's Pekinese until she hit the bottom and... no ring.
Then, everyone had that awkward moment when you first realize that something horrible has happened, and then the far more horrifying realization of what the likely solution would be.
Instead of proposing as his bride-to-be stuffed her gullet with migraine-inducing deliciousness, Harris ended up proposing by holding up Whipple's X-ray of her stomach showing the missing ring while his wife-to-be prepared to stuff her face with high-fiber cereals and wait for the ring to come squeezing out the other end of her digestive tract.
Therefore, regardless of how much frantic soapy scrubbing she has done since, when she looks at her left hand she'll always be thinking "This is my shit ring." And yet, she still wears it. That's love, guys.
James Miller figured he'd go out of his way to make Valentine's Day memorable for his girlfriend, and knew that this task would require something above and beyond a box of stale chocolates and six-pack of Pabst from a convenience store.
Somehow he followed a chain of logic that took him from there to stripping down to his underwear and streaking a soccer game while shooting roses from a bow and arrow.
Unfortunately no one likes a man in his underwear at a sporting event, and the ones that do can't admit it. So, Miller was arrested. And, since he's in the armed forces, he was quickly notified that he could also face a court martial.
Eventually he was fined a few hundred dollars and banned from all future soccer games for three years. That may not mean much to Americans but this guy's from Europe, so a three-year soccer ban is like not being allowed to have sex (if you have sex in a long, drawn out, low-scoring way).
Worst of all, it turned out that the one person who was supposed to be enthralled, or at least mildly impressed, by this romantic act--the girlfriend--was somehow not swept off her feet. She dumped him, teaching Miller the most important lesson a man can learn: love plus alcohol equals extraordinarily bad decisions.