took him home. told him i would rock his world. passed out. a for effort f for follow thru
he kept his composure pretty well until he puked on the cop car
and his room smelled like strippers, childrens tears, and fear
FUCK BUDDYS DON'T HOLD HANDS. NO EXCEPTIONS.
That point of drunk where you're in a bar bathroom and you're like "F*ck you bra! I'm not taking your sh*t anymore! and you take it off and throw it in a trashcan.
I'm now drinking beer through a straw. By order of the bartender.
I'm texting an actual stripper. A male stripper. I dont wanna talk about it yet
Dinner at my parents is vodka, lemonade, cheese ad crackers. Why would I leave?
I assume some self respect is too lofty of a gift idea
seriously the second he called my tits warlocks was the second I knew I wasn't going to fuck him.
ten seconds after he was done making out with the blonde, he rips off his jacket and screamed "Goddamn it, you know I like brunettes"
I have never seen someone so pissed at getting some. i called dibs so fuck him
YOU HAVE TO STOP TELLING BARTENDERS WE DON'T HAVE MORAL STANDARDS
I am convinced you could sleep through the apocalypse and only wake up because youre hungry & want Dominoes
The guy I slept with in AZ just called and is moving here next week.
If there's one thing I think I could really excel it, it's curating a midlife crisis
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