shit pants at work. discarded underwear.
just showed this text to the guy at west elm. luckily we did not stool ourselves in the midst of the ensuing hilarity. so you're commando now?
yep! most awkward part is that i was a few feet away from a client, talking and looking him in the eye. i've never stooled while looking someone directly in the eye.
I'll have you know...trying to masturbate while a song about jesus is stuck in your head is next to impossible
Isn't the perk of being in a relationship not having to put in effort for sex?
His band may suck, but it's not like I'm sleeping with all of them.
Last thing I remember was you straddling a guy in a wheelchair on the dance floor.
I have a music final in an hour so I put all the classical songs we need to know in a shower power hour playlist, beer included.
Thanks for putting pants on me last night. And for calling me a princess.
I can feel my moral fiber fraying.
All I could think of during that funeral was how great I look in a suit, how creepy catholics are, and how horny I am.
No need to talk. Eventually, he'll either stop coming over, or decide that it's a relationship.
And if not?
...I keep getting free bourbon and great sex with no expectations. You really don't understand that there is no "down side," do you?
The length of my leg hair is a constant reminder of how long it's been since I even thought I had a chance of getting laid.
He stood me up and then his cat died. I feel like this is Gods way of saying he's on my side, even after the tequila fiasco.
Bar selfie Saturday turned into bar nudie Saturday in a hurry. I need to delete my snapchat...
almost just sent your mom a dick pic. almost.
I'm serenading his dick with my words. I understand how poets get inspiration now.
Randomize
