Ol’ Pal


Last night I went with an old friend to dinner at a wing place. I guess it’s more like a Florida bar kinda establishment, but I like their wings so it’s a wing place to me. We didn’t get wings. So I am going to have to holla at someone else to go with me for wings because if at first you don’t succeed, try try again. It’s law.

Anyway, I hadn’t seen him in a while because the last time we were communicating in a kinda friendly manner I dropped some harsh sentiments and he didn’t care for that. Happens. Especially if you know me. Hopefully I gain a little more tact before I hit the no fucks given decade which I have heard can start as early as the 40s and as late as the 60s.

So we get back to my place (bow chicka wowow — hah no) and hang out and chat. He starts hinting about getting physical and I am not being shy about saying no. Then he tries another tactic where he whips out his dick like it’s 1998 and I bring out out my ace card, “Do we not know the definition of consent?” That shut it down real quick. But luckily he didn’t act like the guy of 1998 and we chatted about other things.

This is what I have experienced of Florida guys. Maybe this is what American guys are like all over, but got damn it’s all gators and toads down here. I mean from what I have experienced of being single in my 20’s and beginning for my 30’s. I think I’ll just move and switch teams. Sounds like a solid solution.

I still had fun though dude is ruled by his hormones. So, c’est la vie.

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