I don’t need a man with a proper job, I don’t want you to work in a garage, I want you to do something shady, like, be a steroid dealer, be a hostel owner, and just fuck me all day, and all of the fucking night!
telling the hottest guy I ever slept with that he can’t come over :S
it feels like I’m betraying my woman parts, y’know? like, my vagina is mad at me now, because I’m depriving her.
but on the other hand, he’s a total douchebag.
bleh.
know what’s weird?
wearing Ann Summer’s underwear, and knowing nobody will get the privilege of seeing it.
fucking sucks dude.
needs me a fellow of average sexual attractiveness, with nice hair, and a cocky disposition.
oh god, Friday night blues dude.
why didn’t he want to go out with me?
I’m too fucking old for this shit!
who can I convince to love me?
my new bed is awful lonely :(
we can just shnuggle, and read, and then test whether or not I put the bed up properly.
shit, you’re so funny.
I fucking hate you.
let’s fuck, and pretend we never had any problems with each other in the first place.
I can’t believe that it’s twenty past one in the morning, and you’re messaging me berating me because I’ve not been back to Liverpool, or Ireland to see you.
You come see me, although actually, you broke my heart, so I don’t even really want to see you.
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