A couple of months ago my boyfriend wanted to have sex but I was tired, so I closed my legs and said, "You shall not pass." Last night at dinner my hand was moving over his leg and moved to his crotch. He grabbed my wrist and said, "One does not simply walk into Mordor." Touche, David, touche.
"Wow. What do I have to do to get a high five around here, blow up the moon? BECAUSE WE DID THAT TODAY. HIGH FIVE! No? You're good."
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Write it. Don't fight it.
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I can't raise my hand. I'm allergic to effort.
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Turkey dinner tonight?
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Ruining relationships for science.
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Spare me your change.
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My presents, are my presents.



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