Allergic To Love

I'm allergic to love.

Any other kind is more than enough.

That doesn't mean I'm the casual type, 'cause I've been fine so far.

Don't bore me with frivolous gifts; I can easily buy them myself.

Don't buy me chocolate; though I enjoy it, my heart won't be swayed by its richness.

Money is the paper we all need in order to survive, but unfortunately, it controls everything around us.

I'm no gold digger, despite being "a woman."

Oh, and please don't send me flowers; they'd just wilt away in vain.

Getting me to love you, future lover of mine, seems impossible so far, right?

Well, it is, 'cause, as I've said before:

I'm allergic to love.

Or, to be more precise, love is allergic to me.