Tag Archives: Bootycall

Strangers (Sort of), In The Night.

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I recently had the opportunity to cheat on My Boyfriend.

Now before you all get riled up, no, I didn’t put myself in a compromising position. I wasn’t at a bar slinking across a velvet lounger with the thin strap of my sparkly dress falling fetchingly off my shoulder, laughing lightly and sipping a cosmo that was bought for me by a charming gentleman leaning into me on said lounger.

It wasn’t like that.

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The Profiler.

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“Not even a bootycall?”

“Not even a bootycall.”

“So you got nothin’?”

“I got nothin’,” I said, shaking my head.

“That’s a damn shame,” said Sean, as he took a sip of his Guiness. “No one to drunk-text.”

“Nope, no one to drunk-text,” I sighed. I took a sip of my Bud Light. “Well, except My Ex, of course. I drunk-text him all the time.”

Sean gave me a look.

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