Nyc is like a mosaic of my failed dates.
hungover + watching bobsledding = i just puked
I drove 5 hours to see her. She thanked me by getting shitfaced, inviting her boyfriend over, and making me sleep on the couch after I cooked for them and did the dishes. You're right. I'm a fucking doormat.
I had to explain to the waiter that I'm not the DD because I can't drive, but as the Designated 'Make Sure No One Gets Roofied Or Hit By A Car On The Walk Home'-er, I should still get the free drinks.
Also, sex on a first date is no, right? Really, I just don't want to clean my apartment, but I'm trying to hide behind "morals" in an effort to appear less lazy.
You told me that you were as fast as lightning and you wanted to race me. Then you faceplanted after falling down the stairs.
So when's a good time this week to show up at your apartment in nothing but a trench coat and a bow? Y'know. Hypothetically.
How hard is it to grasp the concept of 'I lost an impromptu saber bout and so I have to make a macaroni map of Soviet Russi, including Kazicstan'!?
fyi, pepper spray hurts. whoever comes up with the best backstory wins a prize.
I spilled wine on my pillowcase and I figure it's basically my lifeblood so I'm just leaving it
tbh I think I just dated him for his dogs in the first place.
My new dentist just kinda stared at me when I told him that I used to have partial dentures after breaking 2 teeth while beating the shit out of someone, until I puked them into the toilet and flushed them after getting high and making myself undercooked mac and cheese.
tonight's safe word is brought to you by the phrase "Ahhhhhh"
Once again I let my vagina make the decisions...that and vodka :(
I knew she was the one when we had sex to the halo soundtrack.
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