I don't know what's more pathetic, the fact that you dated him or the fact that it took a Taylor Swift song for you to break up with him.
just woke up to overhearing her on the phone saying "yeah we fucked last night, that makes 42." should i get tested?
well i fucked her too, so yes.
apparently i'm really good at getting wasted, having sex all night, getting multiple hickeys and oversleeping father's day brunch. this is the third year its happened.
I thought of you while cleaning the forehead prints off my glass doors.
I was scoping hash out of our weed jar with a spoon and I realized we need to buy actual utensils. This plastic shit is killing me I've broke 3 spoons
I just don't know what he sees in my vagina...and that scares me.
I'm sorry and I love you. One day we're going to live in a whore mansion with our babies and make boys cry.
They were taking shots out of the caps of perfume bottles. This is too much for me.
I want to get my vag crammed with complete loss of every bit of dignity I have left by this man from every angle on every flat surface that exists. That is all.
Unintentional and slightly frustrating adventures are basically all I'm good for. Expect heart palpitations, cheap food, and homeless men serenading us.
I have feelings that need drinking.
I can't believe I'm giving you play by plays of this sexting convo. It's like a three way he doesn't know about.
I think Jabba the Hut is dying in the stall next to me.
I need vodka mixed w a bit of holy water right now
Rock bottom: having sex rejected while your boyfriend talks in his sleep as you stuff your face with Girl Scout cookies
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