I really like you and I'm tired of just hooking up. I want you be my boyfriend.
Uhh, I'm not breaking up with my girlfriend to be with you.
I could write a book called "things that come out of my vagina"
Just hungoverly hit my funny bone with a hot straightener. Triple threat.
So let me get this straight. You would sleep with an uncircumcised guy whose name you didn't know, but you won't try the new shrimp taco from taco bell?
I woke up this morning to my phone notebook open and written was "reasons why I'm a whore in chronological order" then it listed everybody I've had sex with in the past five months.
Gin and redbull in a wine glass. They think I'm keeping my wits with a really yellow Chardonnay. Gonna get ugly after a couple.
I honestly can't remember your justification for putting peanut butter on your cell phone.
we did shots in class this morning as part of a presentation. WHY AM I LEAVING THIS COUNTRY?!
Revised rule: don't put your dick in the general vacinity of mental instability.
Not even dry humping. Not even a little bit.
SORRY! Pervert came out for a bit. BAD PERVERT! BACK IN YOUR HOME!
The worst thing about him living around the corner is that who ever suggests the booty call is the one that walks over.
Last thing I remember is ranting about hating pants. Woke up this morning pants less. Couldn't find them, decided to leave. Driving without pants is surprisingly liberating.
I just finished a four mile round trip walk to CVS to buy shaving cream and lube. You're welcome.
I lost a bet last night, now I have to name the baby Fetty Wap, regardless of gender. Riley is going to kill me.
Last night’s booty call turned into a cuddlefest. Get your game face on, we’re hunting dick tonight
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