How lonely it must be to have different men sleep in your bed but never sleep with you. These men that you think of and talk to your friends about to the point of nausea. You grab his hand and pretend that he is yours but the whole time he thinks about getting free from your sweaty clutch. You pretend to care about him telling him that he should lay on your bed so he doesn't choke on his vomit. It takes your careful placement of words for him to mutter to you that its okay if you sleep next to him, since of course it is your bed. And after all your plans and female trickery there you are laying next to somebody that you hope will like you and nothing is happening, nothing more than him panicking in his sleep every hour.  In the time that he could be making love to you, he is thinking, vaguely trying to remember where the girl he actually came here to be with went. Most importantly if she went with him.

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