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Silently riding the elevator with a guy (from work…) that you went on one date with while you both attempt not to acknowledge the other’s existence is a great way to kick off the weekend.
Apparently when I walk my high waisted shorts have aspirations to become just-under-my-boobs/exposing-my-ass shorts. Call me conservative, but I prefer my garments to be longer than my lady parts.
Definitely went to type “I adore dogs.” Definitely typed “I adore dongs.”
So I’m standing on the subway platform. In conservative work clothes. Glasses. Bun. Old man waddles up to me. Stands right in front of me and just stares with an absolutely disturbing grin. Um, hi? I called him a “fcking creep” and walked away.
Did part of me feel a little bad? Naturally…at first. Quickly dissipated when he proceeded to teeter totter after me til I lost him last second by diving into a different car when the train came. Like, WHY?? Is it kosher to hit a skeez in the face if they’re literally older than WWII? Thanks crazies of New York, you never fail to exceed my expectations.
No woman who is 8+ months pregnant should wear a bikini under any circumstances. Unless they—-wait, no it’s still never.
Time for a little ex boyfriend stalkiiiiing!
Shut up, you all do it.
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