His idea of a romantic evening was shotgunning Keystones. What a keeper.
I just got home. Seriously all I remember is taking out my contacts and putting your balls in my mouth.
I just fell off my chair and knocked over the table. People are staring. That hungover.
Somewhere at this very moment, a group of drunk white girls are singing dont stop believing.
he asked me to hangout with him...and his son
you were fixing your hair in the bathroom mirror and then fell backwards through the locked stall while she was in mid pee and fell on her lap.
you both peed in the photobooth after the pictures were taken.
We were naked in bed for hours and we didn't have sex. Either he's gay or he wants to respect me. Neither of which I approve of.
I need to get a job that holds me accountable for something. Otherwise I wake upon Monday wondering when the booze store opens and if I still have a boyfriend.
Just came to the realization that what I thought were orgasms were just lightheadedness from hyperventilation. My entire sex life is a lie.
All I know is I woke up with his business card in my bra and in my handwriting on the back it says 8 inch.
These morning walks of shame have became my morning jogs
Like I just wanted some midlife crisis fun, not drama as big as his dick.
Nobody cheats on THIS.
I just found a condom in my jolly ranchers bag. This is a good omen.
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