I'm a grown ass woman and I'm sitting in bed eating pizza at 4:30 a.m. BFD, right?
morning outfit: hottub soaked skirt. no underwear. someone's bandanna worn as a shirt. took me an hour to walk home. this isn't fun anymore.
so I just asked a Chinese man and found out our tattoos actually mean vagina...
I'm going to skip that pointless convo with Mark, stick with the "we're talking" status, and bone barely legal, borderline gay, preppy guys on the DL.
So the next morning, she had to tell her kids we were moving furniture around all night.
don't forget friday is see who can get the most free drinks at the gay bar contest. winner gets $50
Your beautifulness. Funnyness. Sexy hairness. Coolness. Plus you ask google how far wendys is from your house. Will you marry me
I think I'm interested in anyone that recognizes I actually have a pulse
I love our relationship. We just get drunk, show each other our tits, demonstrate sexual positions and make pasta. Then you go to bed and I sit around with your mom and cry about how proud of you we are.
We're doing a team debriefing of Saturday night in group text right now. As 75% of the female presence at that party we saw some shit.
I fucked him twice and then he set me up with his teammate. This kid does wonders for me
last night i fell off a barstool and busted my nose. i can regretfully say that i didn't see cherub last night.
And somehow i feel like your expectations will turn out to be illegal in some way.
Currently eating a pop tart in my underwear waiting for the washer. Not one of my prouder moments.
I’m tired of his bullshit and premature ejaculation. I’m going to hotel bars and finding a guy who is DTF
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