I texted him about a book we both like. I was expecting a "ya great book... let's bone" response. It didn't work
well i did feel guilty about it. until i saw how hot the guy was the next day. now, nothing but pride.
im so hungover...we just watched The Perfect Storm and i got seasick
At some point last night Lemondrops turned into me doing shots of vodka and eating sugar packets at the bar.
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It's like shitshowville, population: those girls.
I just want to have such an intense orgasm that my heart stops and I die. I mean that would kind of suck for the guy I'm fucking but then again he could be like "I'm that good"
I just wanna say I did some math and I lasted 1,052,000 more minutes than you at the bar before I got kicked out. That's 729 days. Bitch
he's a firefighter. like being a firefighter screams MY DICK IS HUGE SO I'M NOT AFRAID TO DIE IN THIS FIRE.
Our apt smells like hot shit marinated in oregano and cumin. No more taco truck dinner, fuck face. The wall paper is peeling.
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I'm still depressed that I forgot my ice cream at your place
I think he has some internal "man stuff" that keeps getting in the way.
Like alcoholism and general douchbagary.
it's the international house of making me almost fucking shit myself
I don't know, we got really drunk and I slapped her with an ear of corn.
he bought me ice cream then took me home and fucked the shit outta me. you can't write this kinda romance.
And now Google thinks I have a hard hat fetish...maybe I do...
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