So my last boyfriend was a pretty bad alcoholic. He got so wasted one day, that he got up to go to the bathroom and instead, pissed in my closet. I did what any good girlfriend would do, so I took his head, rubbed it in the rug and said,"NO! Bad boyfriend." He broke up with me, but my rug is pee free. So I win.
Sex with him was good. Not "Meet the parents, move in together, have my babies, get married" fantastic, but "I'll forget you like comic books and are in a band" good.
I recently have had some pretty fantastic sex, which was so good that I had to write a joke about it. Now, when I'm on my death bed, I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to remember my kids names, 9/11, or when President Barack Obama got shot... but I'm gonna remember that.
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