Literally when I open my askbox and see your stupid dickpics and all-caps praise of my blog.
Or you could just not.
Literally when I open my askbox and see your stupid dickpics and all-caps praise of my blog.
Or you could just not.
Him: Honestly, most of what makes it hot for me is the idea that someone’s playground is getting cleaned.
Me: “Someone’s playground,” he calls my rectum.
I had a text exchange with the Southern Gentleman, who likes to pretend our little fiasco didn’t happen and tries to talk to me normally. Which, ugh, I don’t know. Maybe that’s a good thing. He tried to uncomfortably sext me about three weeks ago and I was literally disgusted.
Recently, I made an okcupid account since there isn’t much else to do around here and I have what should be a really great date coming up with what seems like an awesome, smart, sane guy. But, when SG asked me if I was seeing anyone while he was texting me today, I responded with: “no, the only relationship I’m in is with my numerous vices.”
“I hope to be one of those vices,” he texted right back.
I rolled my eyes and texted: “I bet you do.”
SG replied with: “Look at you, all coy.”
It’s funny how guys can sometimes confuse coyness and ambivalence.