Having abs (for me at least) is like having gone to Harvard: It’s the sort of thing you have to mention within minutes of meeting anyone.
Dude Look At My Abs
You light your vanilla candle, the one your best friend gave you from Bath & Body Works that smells like middle school and memories. It’s 7 pm. You’re already half drunk and exhausted. It’s only Monday.
Never having good sex again.
“He said he liked his girls larger than my already pleasantly plump self, and if I didn’t want to gain weight, then the relationship would go nowhere.”
“A guy told me once that I was ’80’s hot.’ That definitely put some pep in my step since I love the ’80s and I’m very sad that I missed them.”
It’s best when the cheese stands alone. Please don’t mostly or only post pictures of you with other people.
In the morning he confessed that he’d been interested in me for years and that his dreams had come true and started talking about our future. It was very awkward.
“That’s when I saw it. A skull floating in the water with just the eye sockets and part of the nasal cavity sitting there in the water looking right at me about 50 feet away. An immediate sense of dread took me. It was the most scared I’d ever been in my life. Then an even worse feeling took over — calmness and the sudden urge to jump in the water.”
You don’t belong here.
If she mentions at any time that she’s free or is going to be bored, she wants to spend time with you.