It was unlikely that the relationship was going to end with anything other than antibiotics.
So i literally just wrote sorry on my quiz and turned it in.
Apparently the last thing they remember of me was me stumbing into a bathroom, then falling out 5 minutes later clutching a butter knife repeating "ketamine goes in my face hole"
my vagina can't take this anxiety. there is no way he is 19 and this smooth. he's lying about his age or he's a goddamn sexual prodigy
So I've been thinking about this, and I've decided my bed is magic. Every time I change the sheets, a new boy is in my bed. I own the Sheets of Dreams-if I change them, they will come.
Now I'm obligated to stay and cuddle with her because the condom broke. Fuck.
I bet the guy on the treadmill next to me with the noise-canceling headphones wishes he could trade them for smell-canceling noseplugs. Hard to believe that last one did not involve any pants-shitting on my part.
I just spent 12 consecutive hours in the same outfit and none of it was pajamas. If that's not personal growth, I don't know what is.
How about we just have a naked taco night instead?
He made a playlist to use during sex...that ended with The Ultimate Warrior's entrance music.
I'm planning our wedding on the computer and our threesome on my phone. At the same time.
Can't. I'm doing shots with my mom.
Was not aware that standing loudly up off the couch and loudly, drunkenly slurring "I'M EIGHTEEN NOW BITCHES" counted as a primitive mating call.
My boobs weigh the same amount as 25 pancakes
It's not christmas until we're acting sober in front of grandma
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