it was like playing where's waldo with your underwear
i have your red jacket for some reason. and a good deal of shame and embarasment. note to self, wear underwear when you wear a dress. also, i was electrocuted last night. dont ask how.
and then he ordered a "diet and rum" like the most important part of the drink was the diet.
soo according to the calendar on my phone, I'm 5 minutes late to have sex with that guy from work. Apparently we planned this, I even set an alarm.
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Okay, good. And if you have one of those portable strip poles that would be nice too.
I have no valid justification for peeing in your kitchen, but I don't think it's worth breaking up over.
That's not how these arrangements work. You don't buy each other stuff unless you break a sex toy. End of story.
I just don't know about this life anymore. Quite frankly I think I belong up there in the great blue, lounging on a cloud sippin tea with Jesus
For future reference, Twizzlers CAN leave welts.
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No more fucking baseball tools. Walk-of-shamed home in only a pinstriped jersey and a Red Sox SnapBack.
How could I forget your birthday? I have an alarm in my phone to ask you for sex that day.
Not going to lie: not even the fact I'm wearing men's cargo pants can hide the fact I have an awesome ass.
I didn't tell that thing I wasn't coming over. Whoops
You know you haven't dated in a while when you call boys "that thing" and call dates "a boy type thing."
If so I'm coming over there. There's no way I'm having "hello, how are you" conversations with my neighbors on acid
If we had a dog do you think we would be less hoe-y?