we are at a mexican restaurant and the tv is playing mexican porn. dad won't stop watching.
i don't remember her name, but i don't need it unless we decide to hook up again. but even then, i can get away with not knowing it for a while. it's not like we have actual conversations.
when im not freaking out about dying alone and unloved, i actually really enjoy being single
he would probably call me "ma'am" when he's inside me. people love saying weird shit inside me.
You told me alcohol would be the death of you then ordered 10 shots of tequila.
i think i was tempted to text while we were making out. like i remember holding my phone up behind his head and just staring at it.
then he compared my vagina to a dishwasher. A DISHWASHER?!
Whatever. It was high school. Back then I'd blow anyone who had enough room between their chest and their steering wheel for my head to fit.
I'm sober enough to question why I have your name as "the wolverine" in my phone.
I succsesfully kept my nipples in my dress all night. Even when I got in a fight. I was made for the bar.
He's a forty-something balding gay man with no boundaries or sense of social norms. Of course we should befriend him.
The only thing keeping me calm right now is pretending to chop off everyone's heads when using the paper cutter
I wore heels to a golf store in hopes of getting laid. I've hit a new all time low.
Wtf can everyone stop fucking in my grandma's bed? This is like the third time
Do you not realize that being Batman fulfills about 95% of my non-sexual fantasies?
Randomize
