I believe in Adam and Eve, and I believe in their souls and their hearts and their bodies. I believe that they were the first ever human bodies to touch and feel and kiss and cry. They named the animals together, they named the stars together, and they named each other. Eve wasn't a ten or a two. Adam didn't practice his body language or banter. He just existed. I believe they held each other's hands as they walked out of the garden – I believe they held each other's bodies as they wept bitterly in the cold dirt, and I believe that they believed in each other. I believe they sat side by side as they sobbed into God's chest and apologized. I believe they begged each other to be strong and make everything alright, and I believe they begged each other to be strong and make everything alright, and I believe they needed each other. I guess its their fault we're all so screwed up today. I guess its their fault we all go to bed alone. I guess they're the reason I fall in love with every woman I talk to, and they're the reason love is in my pants more than it is in my chest. The more I come to realize how many different men and women there are in this world, the more I come to love Adam and Eve, and what that first kiss must have felt like. That first gasp for air after they realized they had bodies. Those first drops of water that poured out of their eyes when they realized they were in love. The more I hear about blind dates and date rapes, the more I hear about 40-year old men divorcing their wives, the more I hear about barely legal blondes.com, the more I wish I could have been there for that one perfect moment when Eve held onto Adam's face, and they kissed in the only act of true love that this planet, this whore for humanity, has ever seen. I hate Adam and Eve for f***ing it all up, but I love them for who they were, because I know I would have done the same thing. I wonder if Adam saw how perfectly fragile and beautiful her hands were as she reached toward those wicked branches. I wonder if he saw the pure pleasure on her face as she bit into it. I wonder if he saw the endless, breath-taking depth of her gorgeous eyes as she looked toward the sky, just in time to see it falling. I hope to God that he did, because I am stuttering for the right words to say over the phone, and I am waking up with girls whose eye color mean nothing to me. I am seeing what love looks like in the greedy minds of Hollywood. I can't wait for Adam and Eve The Movie to come out, so I can watch Brad Pitt and Angelina fake it for my $7.50. I wonder if God knew, when He was crafting their bleeding hearts that I would be here today using pickup lines to convince myself more than the girl I'm talking to that love is just an excuse we can use to rub our hands all over each other. Those plastic cups aren't romantic. These wrinkled sheets aren't romantic, and the more I tell myself I need, I need, I need to get out of this dry spell, the more I realize I need, I need, I need Eve to tell my everything's alright – to hold my body and tell me to be strong, and that we'll make it out of this together. I believe in Adam and Eve, and even though they messed up, they did a hell of a lot better than we are right now. I feel like God took a gamble on us and rolled Snake Eyes. I hate long walks on the beach. I hate listless phone calls, and I hate bottles of wine, because if there was such a thing as true love, we wouldn't f***ing need it. I hate strip clubs and porn stars because they are the wraith-like branches on that f***ing tree, and yet I cannot stop myself from reaching, reaching, reaching. We are gorgeous. We are hopeless. We have blonde hair and wet lips and dance moves and big tits. We have broad hips and blue eyes, we have wedding veils and bow ties. We have hookers who have business. We have make-up sex and conjugal visits, and even if this was all just a bad dream,, I would still wake up in the morning, and stretch my hair back as I wink at myself in the mirror, same as I will in five years when I rush into marriage with not necessarily the wrong person, just the woman who is as right as she'll ever be. We are Adam, we are Eve, and I don't need to keep reading to know the end of the story. I'm sorry, God.