This is your typical "sorry i got drunk and tried to seduce you into having sex while you were throwing up" text.
God gave me these boobs for a reason other than for people to throw things down them.
The last thing i remember is saying breakfast beer and carrying the keg to my room and locking the door.
There's two girls at the bar sniffing each others boobs.
Listen. I'm a changed woman. I have no problem using him for sex.
I only listened to his story about leaving the Amish community because I was hoping for a free drink
I'm on the toilet with no toilet paper. When are you coming over? I'm contemplating on just staying here until you arrive.
I think we r still a few steps from ex sex. In fact, that's never going to happen. I'm just saying on the seething-chemical-fire-of-emotional-distress-to-post -relationship-intercourse scale, I'm closer to fucking than throttling. Progress is fun.
I just realized I slept with a guy who used the pickup line "do you have a bandaid? I skinned my knee when I fell for you."
MY INSIDES ARE BASICALLY BEING WRUNG BY A CHAINSAW IM NEVER TAKING PLAN B AGAIN
Just get over here and light metaphorical fireworks in my literal vagina
somehow a ride to walgreens turned into a threesome.
He's gone. He left a note but all it says is "Dear Neil" followed by a drawing of a hand flipping the bird in the direction of a butt.
breakfast this morning: omelette, Valium and baileys hot chocolate
Now that sounds like the breakfast of champions
He’s definitely circumcised. There’s not enough room in those speedos for a foreskin with that fire hose he’s packing.
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