I can say with absolute certainty the only time we ever had a civil conversation was when we agreed we both liked pizza.
It was somewhere in between an airport security patdown and a medical examination. No groping or squeezing, just brief pokes and pats.
He started praying immediately after we hooked up, condom on and everything.
He's getting so into these sexts, I hate to tell him I'm fully clothes, watching Bring It On and eating chips and salsa.
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He literally just laid flat on top of me motionless at one point. It felt less like foreplay and more like he was trying to use me as a flotation device. 0/10
He passed away peacefully doing what he loved to do best. Eating a pound of vodka gummy worms and failing at sex and the city trivia.
Eating pizza in the bath tub while watching a romantic comedy alone. I reached a new level of single.
You don't get to call me bro after you've had your dick in me.
I don't need inspirational quotes. If I'm going to be motivated, it will be by anger and spite.
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I accidentally brought up how there used to be a big tree in his yard, which I could only have known if I had been Google mapping his house.
Ok, stop saying "youths." You're 23.
I kind of just assumed by how he whisked eggs that he would be bad in bed.
I've never been so turned off by an omelet.
Woke up this morning to a bunch of snapchats of you drunkenly yelling at grasshoppers. Good night?
Things were going really well until his cousin showed up. She told him I look kind of like his mom, which started a ten-minute debate on my and his mother's specific features, and ultimately, who is prettier. Guess who my date picked.