once this girl told me that.
That night I was drunk, high and chemically happy and sauntered up to this redhead in a bar and said: Do you want to have intercourse with me?
I was dressed in tight jeans that showed off my (objectively) cute ass perfectly. My teeth had just been bleached to the hue of sugarcubes. I couldn't believe she didn't fall for my beauty and my bold come-on.
I have spent the evening picking on old scars. On my body. On my soul.
Once someone called me a bad kisser. Another time someone called me a bad friend. Somehow it was worse being called a bad kisser.
I think something is wrong with me.
being a bad kisser is the worst.
ReplyDeleteThere is something wrong with all of us, don't worry.
ReplyDeleteBeing a bad kisser will always be worse than being a bad friend. The person who calls you a bad friend is usually still your friend, the one who calls you a bad kisser will most likely never kiss you again.
ReplyDelete