How to ask for little sex.
I watched the new Netflix series about that dominatrix chick that proves, sex has more to do with psychology than that fantasy porn I once watched where the sexy psychiatrist hypnotises the dude into having a consistent boner.
It lasted for about an hour or so, before I decided; time had come, to move on to bigger and better things.
To emerge out of the ether, poignant and yet gleeful.
The barista has started giving me less and less sugar, and every time I point it out; she assures me it’s “just the right amount”.
I keep telling her “just the right amount” isn’t always enough, but I guess she’s got a point and I’ve got a story to tell.
I figured out that hitting on bartenders isn’t cool, unless they’re well within their 40s — in which case, flirt away!
Doing shots of Fireball and Tequila are now a self-reflection of ultimate douchebaggery and seriously what the fuck was I thinking with that Hoodie / Denim look…
Yet, life goes on — and so as it should, must the journey of discovering newer passages.
Ones filled with, “I’d rather go to bed than text all night” but if you’re up to it we shall bake that cake (just might).
[Not sponsored by Coors].