I met Philip while out recruiting contestants for Blind Date. Once he told me he went to Vassar, I knew he'd never do the show. Instead, I kept him for myself. I looked extra cute and Philip seemed really into me. It was perfect.
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I really needed to fart. This is not unusual for me. I usually need to fart. Everything makes my butt erupt. I can usually tell what will set me off. Coffee, dairy, yoga. And I can usually gauge the stink and audible level based on what I've eaten. But this fart was different. This fart was sneaky. 7 Things You Must Do Before A First Date
That morning, I had accidentally eaten some bad pineapple. Having never dealt with bad fruit toots, I didn't know what to expect from my Hawaiian friend. Looking at me you'd have never guessed the turmoil I was experiencing.
"Want to get out of here?" he whispered in my ear.
His apartment was just a few short blocks from the bar. A gorgeous Weimaraner greeted us as we entered his apartment.
"This is Bella," he said.
I love dogs, I really do. They are furry slices of heaven. But the way Bella mouth raped Philip when he bent down to pet her told me that she was definitely the woman of the house. In her eyes, I was just another two bit whore. She dutifully sniffed my crotch, and passing her test—for now—nestled into her dog bed on the floor. Pet Jealousy And How To Deal With It
I excused myself to his bathroom while he fixed us drinks. The greatest thing about California bathrooms is that most of them have fans. While most likely installed to ventilate air, I like to think they were specifically put in to cover up the sound of me farting.
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I searched for the switch and, horror of horrors, no vent. I could have run the water, but that was too obvious. Instead, I quickly snooped in his cabinet for any medications that might give me pause to share fluids with this man, and, seeing nothing alarming, went back out to Philip, now splayed on his bed. 5 Surefire Ways To Say No To Sex
"Care for a massage?" he asked.