Blame the boyfriend


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Why have I been so absent?…

Well, let’s see…

1. I have been working my fucking ass off trying to turn a plain ol’ server job into something more career-like (I’ve been promoted twice). So that’s working out.
2. I have a boyfriend and that’s working out.
3. I have a boyfriend who’s in jail currently, so all my writing is going to him. Every night. And while he’s in there, he works out.

Yeah yeah… say what you will. Look, I’m not one of those “prison whores” who gets a pen pal whose behind bars for murdering their stepchildren, raping their third cousin, robbing a meth lab with a gun, and now we’re “all in love” because he’s “a really good guy deep down”. No. We met, fell in love quickly, then his ass got locked up due to something that happened last year. He’s serving time for a minor, non-violent crime he allegedly committed before we met (like how I threw in allegedly? Fuck you, po-pos!). Judge all you want, ask me how that affects my love life… no please. Go ahead… Your answer every time: NOT AT ALL. Not even a little bit.

He’s perfect, thank you for asking. We’re as happy as we can possibly be, given the circumstances, and quite frankly, our relationship is a lot healthier than 95 percent of anyone else’s I know (all my friends that are in relationships and reading this, don’t worry, you’re in that 5 percent……. *wink*). We’re very honest and open, he loves me more than he loves anything else, he has the body of a Greek god, and he fucks me like I’ve never been fucked before. But more than that, he makes me feel like a lady (even when he dicks me down like a whore). He respects me, has so from the beginning, and I respect him like I respected my father. I never thought love could be this way, in fact. I’ve been in love before, sure. But not so unabashedly or unapologetically. We love without fear or restraint and I knew from the get go that I was going to marry him one day. I knew within three days of our first kiss. The first night we made love, I woke up with my head on his chest and his arms around me and it was that first night/morning that we knew this was something different. This was something we needed to chase, to explore, to give our all to. They say when you know, you’ll know without question. I have never questioned my love for him, it was there from jump.

We’ve poured our love and passion over onto one another and I can honestly tell you that since he’s been gone, my loyalty and love for him has grown more and more each day.

Now, we have a tricky love story that I will go into soon, but I don’t wanna make any promises as to when. I’ve been very fickle with this blog in keeping it updated lately because, like I said, all my writing goes to him (I write him pages and pages nightly) and by the end of it, I’m exhausted. But I will try to update this once a week on my day off (which is Sunday) with as much information as I can put out. Until that time, please be patient with me.

I’m a girl in love.

I’m still alive


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I know I’ve been absent for much longer than I anticipated, but I assure you, I’m still alive. I’m in a relationship now and have been for about four months. It’s pretty intense…

Of course, it’s not the perfect circumstance, but I honestly feel like he’s the perfect one for me.

Call me crazy, call me stupid. I don’t care.

He’s been gone for three months now… where, you ask? Well… if you’re really down for the cause, stay tuned until tomorrow.

Thanks for all the harassing emails, perverts.

Love you guys.

Dollar menus, hairy balls, and 24 hr Fitness


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Well… I have been fucking busy as hell lately.

Opening up a new restaurant is literally taking the life out of me – in a good way – I like my job. I’m happy. But it’s leaving me zero time to do what I like to do best. Go out, enjoy my friends, make new ones, travel, eat at new places, shop, have sex, workout, clean my house, go to the movies… you know, normal things you do when you have a life. Did I mention that I have not been having sex lately? This is NOT by choice. Trust me, I need some booty like you would not believe. But I don’t really wanna fuck anyone I know. Honestly, sex isn’t really the most important thing for me right now. My ass is getting chunky. I look and feel like I have a poor diet and probably can’t do 10 push-ups in a row and also that I have been so broke that I have been living off the dollar menu for the past month.

All of that is real.

But it’s not going to stay that way forever. I plan on getting back into the gym and I just recently started making money at my job because we opened the restaurant finally, so after I get caught up on all my bills I will start putting away money to make myself look and feel better. And my fucking hair… OMG. I asked a friend to trim 2 inches off of my hair and what does this bitch do?? CUTS SIX INCHES OFF MY HEAD!!! The bitch basically took a year from me and said, whoops! Anyone who knows me knows that I am obsessed with my hair. I’ve been blessed with good healthy tresses and this slimy cunt whore just snipped it all off. I got over the shock after a few days and now I realize that I have much bigger things to worry about. Like not getting evicted from my apartment due to late as fuck rent. And anyway, I love that girl. How can I stay mad at someone like her? She’s got one of the most infectious laughs and the bitch basically gets me drunk every single time we hang out. AND she brings me food. Even though I haven’t been going out, I’ve been getting a lot closer to the people that I see on the regular. I work with some of my close friends and that always makes everything better. When you struggle on your own, it’s the worst. But when it’s a group of you with the same struggle… man… it just makes shit easier to deal with.

I’m not seeing anyone currently. I haven’t even got anyone in my view. There was a guy who I kinda liked, but he’s going through nonsense too. All we did basically was sit at my apartment and bitch about our lives. Really kills the mood ya know? I did have a drunk hook up a few weeks ago, but that was terrifying. He was WAY too eager and overjoyed to have sex with me that it was a complete turn off. I told him; “Mmmm I like kissing you” to which he replied “Oh my God, I fucking LOVE kissing you”. As soon as that went down I knew I had made a mistake. Plus, he didn’t shave his balls. That is the absolute worst. I like my bean bags hairless and if you can’t maintain that shit, you can’t maintain your life in my book. The sex was just OK. Nothing to write home about. His mouth was too small. I mean… it was a drunk hook up. What did I expect?

Can we talk about balls for a minute?

Why the hell is this still an issue? Why are we as women expected to have hairless legs, but men are not expected to Nair their shit?? This is something I will not change my mind on. Guys, if you want us to go down there, at least have the courtesy not to lead us into the jungle. My blowjob skills are fucking on point, but you won’t know that shit if you have a motherfucking Amazon between your legs. It’s gross! I don’t want your hair getting wrapped around my fucking uvula!! Then I have to stop what I’m doing, reach down my throat and pull out a Rapunzel-esque hair from my mouth? You will be asked to leave the building sir and you will receive zero cab fare. Jesus, how long must my people suffer?!? SHAVE IT!!!!

Anyway, that’s my life right now; chubby, busy, somewhat broke, and not getting any. But there is light at the end of the tunnel. Money is increasing and I went to the grocery store finally and bought actual food. Plus, there’s a 24 hr Fitness right by my house that I’m going to join at the end of the month. Things are getting better gradually. And I’m so grateful for the people I have in my life right now cheering me on and wading through the waters with me. Yes, even the bitch that chopped my hair off. I love her too.

Also, I still hate guys that don’t shave their balls.

Just wanted to reiterate that.

I’m a writer for Elite Daily!!





I feel incredibly blessed right now. I can’t believe it’s only been a year since I started writing for a public audience. Things can only go up from here. Thank you everyone for your continuing support and curiosity. If you’d like to read my story that got published yesterday (hopefully the first of many), here is the link…

Enjoy perverts!!

I Like You, Let’s Fuck


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After my ex and I parted ways for good, I went on a two month dry spell. Until one day I decided that I was going to end all that and fuck five people in one week.

Yup. It happened. I didn’t really think I was going to turn into super slut but I fucking did. Being denied the D for way too long, I decided to give it up at the drop of a hat to anyone who came within two feet of me. I fucked a coworker, two married friends (not married to each other… two guys married to two different women), a bartender (of course), and… oh wait… four, just four people in one week. All of them were pretty much a waste of time except for one. I actually respected one of them… I feel like that’s a good change, right? It’s always nice to like the person you’re fucking. I really hate sleeping with people who I can’t stand or don’t really like or really not that attracted to but you sleep with them anyway for the sake of relieving tension. That shit sucks ball sack. Oh wait… I forgot to mention HER…

So when I went back to NOLA last month, I hooked up with this beautiful chick from Mexico; fuck she’s perfect. Perfect white teeth, beautiful body, great sense of humor, slutty in the right way, and her laugh is that infectious kind that makes you feel like you’re back in elementary on the playground. The second night I stayed with her, we ended up having an almost threesome, but said fuck that and fucked each other. It was… fucking amazing but… well… Do you ever have those moments during sex when you’re like “Oh shit… should I have said that? Was that a little over the line?” For instance, at one point I kept telling her over and over how beautiful she was and how I’ve always wanted her and such and at another I was telling her to “keep her fucking face in the pillow and wait while I put a line on her ass and snort it off” and for her “not to fucking move”.

I mean…

I blame porn for this behavior; also my ex boyfriends for always being so rough with me.

But truly, I felt like this girl and I shared a special romantic evening together. Well, my level of romance anyway; and honestly, if she lived here in Houston I would try to wife her. She’s such a cute cool as fuck stoner chick. Nothing about her was annoying or awful. She has a book about the history of salt for Christ sake. I have always found something so sexy about people who have a shit ton of information that they will never ever need in life other than to make interesting conversation starters at cocktail parties. I would like to know how salt came to be and the history of it and all that jazz but I’m not ever going to read the book, so its nice to meet someone who can give you highlights on this absolutely unnecessary piece of human history. Anyway, I left New Orleans happy that I got laid and everything but it was bittersweet because I knew nothing would ever come of it. She was and still remains one of the most beautiful people I have ever slept with.

Back to the one of the four…

I don’t really have anything negative to say about him. He’s beautiful, deep, intelligent… and of course, emotionally unavailable. Honestly though, I’m in no place for beginning a relationship either, but fuck! Can I at least be given that option? So yeah, I’m kind of hot mess right now and yeah ok, maybe I sleep with people a little too quickly, but does that mean I should be denied the right to share a little part of myself with someone on the regular until I get shit figured out? No? Maybe that’s not how it works. Maybe I am being a little irrational, but I feel like I’m getting done with my penance for treating love so terribly in the past. I feel like it’s ok for me to like someone again; even if I can be kind of a sociopathic slutty McSlut slut sometimes. I don’t feel I’m asking too much from the universe. I don’t know, we’ll see what happens. For now, I think I’m gonna put my fast behind on the shelf and try to see where this goes like a regular human being.

How many of you guessed that the above person I am referring to is the bartender?

Go ahead and pat yourselves on the back, assholes.

The Search Continues


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There’s a dent in my bedroom wall where I threw my exs cell phone against it out of anger. He came over and showed me texts from another girl that he’s fucking. This is after he confessed to me his unfathomable loyalty to my past self and a gross disregard to my present being. Why did he feel this was necessary? Did he think that it might help me move on? It kinda did, in fact. Being pushed away with such intensity causes my heart to turn off. Being a doucebag helps immensely. Seven years of being tied to someone kinda makes you feel like you might as well end up with them because they know you so well. They know how you like your cocktails… they order them for you at the bar without asking. They know what size bra you wear… even though they have never bought you lingerie. I don’t think I ever want to be with anyone who fails to buy me lingerie after eight months. I don’t think I want to be with anyone who watches reality TV or football religiously. I’m done being with someone who isn’t excited to be with me. I consider myself pretty awesome. I’d hang out with me at least four times a week if I were in a relationship with myself. I will choose not want to be with someone who doesn’t make time for me. He was all of those things; those terrible things which make up a terrible human being. The only thing about him I liked was his penis. But after a while, after I stopped loving him, the sex felt like nothing.

Not so recently I’ve had sex with someone whose dick wasn’t up to par, very small in fact. But the sex was so enjoyable for a while. I really liked his personality, but the fact that he never asked me anything about myself annoyed me. He was always interjecting things about his day or past while I was trying to let him know about myself. It really dried my vagina up. I was no longer turned on. I have tried going out with guys and honestly, I’m becoming so sick of dating. I would rather stay in, watch Orange is the New Black or reruns of The Office and eat almonds in bed only to finish the night masturbating to porn and fall gently asleep. I just have really found that if there is no emotion, I can’t fuck you. I don’t even wanna kiss you. My ex came over the other night drunk as fuck trying to do the no pants dance and I swear to God, I wanted to throw up. I just saw him as something so incredibly pathetic. This man whom had treated me so terribly in the past was no longer someone I wanted to see naked. When I go out and drink, I don’t booty call him. There’s just nothing there.

So I’m moving again. As much as I love Texas, I have decided to once again, try to find love in a different state. I’m moving to California. I just feel like… how can you not find love by the water? Everyone is so at peace when they go to the beach. Unless you’re on crack or acid and in that case, you’re not looking for anything but Narnia anyway. My soul purpose for moving back here, which was to be closer to my family, has only afforded me new and improved heart ache. Romancing what I thought would be a happy reunion turned out to be more pain and drama for me than I need or can handle right now. So, I’m taking my cats and moving to the west coast. Although I haven’t decided where, I’m really feeling Santa Monica… WeHo (West Hollywood) looks interesting, but if I’m going to move to Cali, I want to be right near the beach always. Somewhere where they have surf lessons and oil painting seminars. I want to be around new ideas, new faces, and new healthy ways of living, new music… I want to be reborn. I want to know what it feels like to not be in constant humidity. To see the ocean and hills and mountains and movie stars. To walk down streets I’ve never heard of before… and yes, I’m well aware of the declining economy there. All my friends are warning me. But fuck it! It’s been my dream to live there and dammit, I deserve to be happy. That may seem like a selfish proclamation, but most of my life has been a struggle; one emotional fuckfest after the next. Living in different states makes me very happy. Some pains are out of my control, and when I live in Texas, they’re magnified. Certain things I have chosen to omit from my writing which I’m sure would make more sense to everyone who doesn’t know me personally… but my tragedies are my tragedies. Maybe one day, I’ll reveal, but for now… trust me… Texas just puts my pain in my face… opens my eyes much like the device on A Clockwork Orange and forces me to see all the chaos. Well, no thank you. Being surrounded by the unfamiliar affords so many advantages for my sanity. Why is it that I feel that way? Why do I feel so complete in strange places? Why do I feel at home in places that are clearly not my home? Only my journey will tell…

Until then, I’m just gonna keep searching…

I Love Myself More Than Sex


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I’m having mixed feelings about all the sex I’ve been having lately.

Maybe I’m having trouble accepting the fact that I’m ok with not being in a relationship and having sex. It wasn’t always like this. I used to get really attached and wanna jump into a relationship and now? Nothing. Nada. Don’t get me wrong, I like the guy I’m having sex with right now, but I’m not eager to put handcuffs on him. It feels like maybe I’m losing my touch on love. I’m seriously worried that I’m losing my hopeless romantic side and am now turning into a love cynic. When did this happen? What events took place that led me to be so carefree? I’m not really sure.

I had lunch with a friend recently and she told me that maybe it’s because I am starting to fall in love with myself. Which could actually be true. I spend more time alone doing things like reading, watching my favorite shows… and now that I’m thinking about it, I’m masturbating a lot less; which isn’t normal. Maybe I am loving myself more. I’m not really acting out sexually right now and I’m not getting drunk nightly. (Oh yeah, I’m drinking again. Go ahead, judge all you like, but it’s my life and I’m actually being responsible for a change. So suck it.) I’m taking more time to change my nail polish, which I usually just let go for like three weeks until it appears as though a tiny dot of ink got on my nail while I was writing. Or, I’ll paint over red with black because I’m too lazy to use nail polish remover to start from the beginning. I know it may seem trivial but trust me; it’s a big step for me personally.

I’m also still doing my yoga at least three times a week. Yes, I could be doing it more, but at least I’m still keeping up with it. What with me going out and banging my neighbor a few times a week, physical fitness gets put on the back burner sometimes. Oh yeah, my neighbor… let’s talk about it…

So yeah… he’s pretty unique. Speaks another language, looks like a ginger, but has a thick Spanish accent. NOT Mexican… Spanish. Not that I have anything against Mexicans, I’m half, but I don’t want anyone thinking I’m banging a dishwasher or a “landscape artist” aka, the guy who mows the lawns behind my complex. I’m not gonna lie, I’ve been having some pretty sweet orgasms. My sex life has been pretty on point lately.


The ex.

Oh the ex.

He’s in my life, he’s not in my life, he’s in my life, he’s not in my life. Honestly, I don’t know how I feel about trying to work on things with him. On the one hand, I’ll always love him, on the other, he treated me like shit throughout most of the relationship and even to this day still gives me some of the most ridiculous attitude over the silliest of things. For instance, I don’t have a car. One night, he came over and I suggested that we go grab something to eat. Well, he threw a tantrum because he claimed since he drove all the way over there, he didn’t want to drive all the way to wherever to go pick something up. Ummmmm…. He lives two miles away and I wanted to go around the corner. Big. Fucking. Deal. I mean, children don’t whine over things like this. Then when we go back to my house from dinner, he complained that my room was too hot. Ummmmm…. I’m freezing. Sorry you’re a demon and can’t turn off the heater inside you. I haven’t seen him in a few weeks. I’ve been too busy having fun actually. I’ve been going out with my… my naked friend… dancing the night away and going back to his place to have the orgasms.

You know what? Maybe I don’t have a problem with all the sex that I’ve been having. From now on, I’m not going to read too much into where things are going with my naked friend and focus more on the fact that we have a great time together. And who knows… maybe something will come of it. But right now that’s the furthest thing from my mind. For now, I’m just gonna lie back and smile while he gives me some of the best oral sex I’ve ever had in my life.

I Am Insane and My Friends Are Well Aware


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Some of my friends are the absolute best; wouldn’t trade them for anything. It’s always nice to know you have a few friends who are encouraging and who still love you no matter what mistakes you seem to be making. Having said that, I have started seeing an ex who all of my friends seem to hate with a passion; and for good reason.

We treated each other like shit for half of the relationship… ok, for most of the relationship. I cheated on him several times and he would break up with me to sleep with bar sluts. There was even a small point in our relationship where we would get physical with each other. However, the last two years of us being together, all that shit stopped. We came to find out that we are both impatient people who needed to get a grip, but that didn’t stop the relationship from being somewhat bad most of the time. Our problem has never been that we didn’t love each other, but that we both are very prideful, always have to have the last word, and we both have a really hard time letting go of the past. Needless to say, we need therapy. Our first two years together were terrible, and honestly, I really don’t know how we stayed together the last three. Of course, we were on and off… we took breaks from one another when shit got too crazy, but somehow we still managed to love each other after all these years.

I hadn’t seen him in a year until yesterday; May 28th, 2013. We had plans to just go have some lunch and see how the other person was doing. Yeah… we didn’t even make it to the restaurant before we were back at his place naked and sweating and going through condoms like Kleenex. The sex was amazing… as always. It was raunchy, dirty, and illegal in several states; just the way I like it. I’ve missed him terribly and he felt the same way. God, I still love that man. Whenever I see myself walking down the aisle to whatever mushy love song I’m jamming at the moment, he is the only face I see. I have tried to replace him with other people, feigning love and trying to make it work, but still… somehow I have always ended up in this man’s arms. One of the guys I dated called him a snake, saying that he was poison and he ruined any good thing that came my way. But I say – look… the heart wants what the heart wants and it wasn’t just him acting crazy. I seem to recall many instances where I acted like Penelope Cruz in the movie Blow; raising hell and calling it normal. But, it wasn’t all bad. We actually had some of the sweetest and welcomed romantic moments I have ever experienced.

I know this sounds like I’m downplaying the bad times, but honestly, I’m well aware of how bad this can get. This relationship has the capacity to fail terribly. He’s seeing someone else (did I fail to mention that before?) and I have a problem with sharing. We have both been in relationships with other people and one person will give an ultimatum and of course the person on the receiving end will always relent, leaving the person we had previously been dating in the dust wondering what the fuck happened. I am well aware of how terrible this is to unsuspecting people. But hey, this is my story. Call me a fool, but I would rather chase a dream than live settling.

Back to my friends and the ones I choose to keep very close to me…

I have mentioned before that I do a lot of things that I could possibly be judged for; this being one of them. However foolish my friends seem to think I’m being, they will always support me with love and be there for me if and when I fall apart. So really, I’m not writing this as a “hey, look at what I’m doing”, but more as a “thank you my friends for always being there and loving me in spite of the things I do that you think are wrong” blog update. I give them the same amount of love they give me. My friends today do not treat me as some child who has no sight of what is really good or bad, but rather as an adult who they love unconditionally while rolling their eyes the entire time. I am so very grateful for them. So, this is my thank you…

Thanks for letting me make my own decisions without shunning me because I have made the same mistakes over and over again expecting different results. I wouldn’t trade any of you for all of King Solomon’s gold. Not for the easy to achieve orgasm, not for a billion dollars, and not for a lifetime supply of batteries. I would rather have you in my life than anyone else… even if they could resurrect James Dean and program his brain to serve only me. I will give you anything I have to give, if you need it.

I love you, my dear friends (you know who you are).

Goodbye Celibacy pt 2


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Maybe you haven’t noticed by now, but I have a few addictions that can sometimes take over my life; sex and alcohol being two of the big ones.

When I started hanging out with the bartender I ended up banging, I was trying to remedy this or at least get a grip long enough on the sex addiction so that I might be able to have a normal relationship. Drinking was also leading to taking far too many drugs way too often, so it was apparent to not only me, but to everyone else that I needed to slow down… a lot. Being celibate, however, was proving harder to abstain from drugs and alcohol by far. I missed sex and sweating it up with a big dick man. I even missed sexting for Gods sake, but most of all, I missed having someone to curb the cravings of not drinking. I wasn’t really looking for a relationship though. I was looking more for a distraction; someone to take the focus off of myself for a while. I had spent so much time trying to repair the damaged parts of me, that I was getting bored with it. Trying to heal my wounds and find out why I felt like I NEEDED sex was starting to get a little monotonous. I wanted out! Enter the tattooed bartender…

Ok first though, why the hell am I so attracted to bartenders? Most of them have some dream of opening a bar of their own but are too lazy to do so. I am also not dumb to the fact that they probably get hit on ALL the time by drunk chicks. There should be a support group for women trying to wean themselves off of these fools. If anybody knows of one, email me… please. Not to say that all bartenders are sluts, but it’s very seldom times I have found one that is faithful and not living out of a one bedroom shithole with a roommate that sleeps on the couch and doesn’t pay rent. If you are a bartender and this applies to you, don’t take offense to this. Just remember that there is always a guy/girl who is willing to fuck you regardless of these attributes. Hello? You’re reading the blog of a chick who has done this on more than six occasions, however regretful I might be…

I went over to his house just one more time. I really should have stayed away because not only did I lose my celibacy, I lost something else too. All the nights that I had spent trying to stay away from drugs and alcohol had been really hard for me living so close to the bars in New Orleans and now Houston. I gave up all those nights due to what you might ask… peer pressure. FUCKING PEER PRESSURE!!! How fucking lame am I?? Too many; “Come on… Just one beer… It’s not gonna kill you…”’s took the cake. You can only say no so many times though. If you hang around people who drink all the time and you go to places where drinking is the norm, you’ll end up drunk in the bathroom praying to the porcelain God. It’s inevitable. I’m not too hard on myself at present moment, though. I was at first, but now I realize that I’m fucking human. I’m gonna make mistakes here and there. Honestly, staying away from the bars does help me save money and all that jazz, but it’s such a social thing that it really is something that I struggle with.

The sex wasn’t even good! I felt cheated, like I had thrown away all that hard work of me not drinking and not having sex to get drunk and have sex with some fool who can’t even fold his clothes after washing and drying them. I mean, I remember drunk sex as losing all inhibitions and throwing each other around the room moaning loudly and causing nightmares for the children sleeping next door. One word to describe sex with him? WEAK.

I texted him a few more times after that, mainly just social conversation, but then I realized that I was wasting my time with someone I had no business being around. It wasn’t just me though. He stopped texting after a few days too. When we stopped texting back and forth, I took it personal, thought that maybe he had gotten a case of PSF. But I mean… I was doing the exact same thing. I stopped all conversation and the reason why we stopped talking completely after we hooked up became something I cared about less and less. I still kinda hate myself for giving up something that meant so much to me at the time as if I had no conviction about it in the first place. But all I can do from here is try to do the right thing for myself. A part of me wishes I would have said; “Look, ass… if you can’t respect the fact that I don’t wanna drink and get all fucked up, then I’m fucking leaving.” Not; “OK! Let’s have a few beers, get naked, fuck yeah!!!” like some sorority girl trying to look cool. I’m fucking thirty years old! Getting wasted has ceased to be cute for me. And that’s the mind-set I need to keep when the next one comes along. I need to respect my needs and wants more and stop settling on the hot guy with muscles and tattoos and a silver tongue; it only leads to trouble for me.


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