What?! No! Fuck, mate. No. I didn't want to have sex with her! I mean, I did... but I was behaving, and I did behave. Even when she was there with her hands, and those boots, and she was... Yeah, anyway, point--I wasn't getting her drunk to sleep with her. I took her to a bar after we had dinner, and she maybe got drunk a lot quicker than I anticipated, and brought her home so she could sleep. There was no sex!
She's fucking determined when she's drunk, though.
A little bit, but I ate something dodgy. I just, you know, want to show her I can abide by her three week rule. Only she apparently can't. She said she'd been thinking about it all night, and she even wasn't wearing panties! I mean... what am I supposed to do with that information when I'm not meant to have sex with her?
Did she eat something dodgy? Is that why she got sick? You keep respecting the three week rule and don't let her rape you when she's drunk because she'll regret it and it will ruin everything before it starts.
Mate, are you actually taking care of a chick voluntarily?
Nah, she was off her fucking face. She's a pretty cute drunk... I did! I didn't want her to regret it, so I stopped her. My dick nearly dropped off, but I did the right thing.
You did the right thing. With a chick. With a hot chick. With a hot chick who wanted your cock, pronto...
Oh, mate. Ohhhhh. You've crossed over to the Dark Side, man. How does it feel? Do you want me to come out at mighnight while you sacrifice a calf to the full moon? No going back now.
Big prize at stake, man. Maybe it's worth trying a little bit harder not to? Did you feel that different feeling deep inside I was telling you about, or did you really just want to fuck her and move on?
I think you love it. And I think you feel mushy when you think about her, and look at her, and want to keep touching her when she's out cold just for no reason at all. Brushing her hair off her face, kissing her cheek, tucking the blanket in a little more secure so she doesn't get cold...
... she threw up.
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What? Who?
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Emma. She threw up on my floor after trying to get me to have sex with her. She was drunk.
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...
Okay, let's back the truck up a wee bit here. What the hell? You got my sister-in-law drunk to have sex with her?
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She's fucking determined when she's drunk, though.
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Mate, are you actually taking care of a chick voluntarily?
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Ah... yeah? Fuck.
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Oh, mate. Ohhhhh. You've crossed over to the Dark Side, man. How does it feel? Do you want me to come out at mighnight while you sacrifice a calf to the full moon? No going back now.
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You're shitting me, right? There has to be going back. I mean, I'll get sex eventually! Maybe I'm only doing this because I'm not getting laid?
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The puke is gospel. If you're still wanting her after the epic puke, you're scarred for life.
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It was only the first date! There can't be gospel puke already.
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It's even more sacred if it happens on the first date. Ask Lachlan. He's the advocate for that one and look at him now.
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Shit. Fuck... shit. I don't know what's worse, the fact that I've crossed over, or the fact that I might actually like it.
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I think you love it. And I think you feel mushy when you think about her, and look at her, and want to keep touching her when she's out cold just for no reason at all. Brushing her hair off her face, kissing her cheek, tucking the blanket in a little more secure so she doesn't get cold...
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