(no subject)
Last night after I got home from clubbing, I got the following text message from the boy with the bad teeth (henceforth referred to as B.T.):
U gonna cum 2 my house? Will eat out. Tx me.
Sure dude, there's an IHOP about ten minutes from my house, you gotta buy since my rent is due but....oh wait, that's not what you meant?
I think it goes without saying that I didn't text him back.
Also, I fail at NaNoWriMo. Unless writing bondage-drenched three-way Wes fantasies to one of my besties on Friday nights contributes toward the word count. Yeah, I didn't think so either.
ETA, 2:04 pm: Texted me again. He's figuring that if he first wines and dines me, then he gets to 69 me. Nice try buddy, the answer's still no.
U gonna cum 2 my house? Will eat out. Tx me.
Sure dude, there's an IHOP about ten minutes from my house, you gotta buy since my rent is due but....oh wait, that's not what you meant?
I think it goes without saying that I didn't text him back.
Also, I fail at NaNoWriMo. Unless writing bondage-drenched three-way Wes fantasies to one of my besties on Friday nights contributes toward the word count. Yeah, I didn't think so either.
ETA, 2:04 pm: Texted me again. He's figuring that if he first wines and dines me, then he gets to 69 me. Nice try buddy, the answer's still no.