You wan’t to talk about my day? I want you to leave.

A booty call should be just that—a booty call, right? The booty call starts with a texting something along the lines of “Hey, what are you doing?” Whatever the response may be, your response should always cut to the chase: “Want to come over later?” Boom. Done. It’s either a simple yes or no. Maybe some convincing if it’s 3AM.

I was hooking up with this girl for two months with little to no emotional issues. The only conversation, if any, we would have would be after hooking up, making small talk until I, almost always, kicked her ass out.  I made the mistake ONE TIME of mentioning to her when I was wasted that “We should hook up like normal people.” Fucking huge mistake. I really only meant like we should hook up at normal hours of the day so I can stay out late with my friends drinking on the weekends rather than worrying about getting ass at the end of the night. She took this as normal people, in a relationship.  She mentioned it the next time we hooked up (normal hours, 6PM) and I did my best to explain that was not what I meant and I had absolutely no feelings for her at all. Clearly she must have heard something different because she started asking me personal questions like what I had for lunch, how my friends were, and most enraging—how my day was. As these questions went on for 20 minutes, I had enough.  I told her sternly that this is strictly a booty call and she should know her role in this situation, as I know mine. She pried at me to get to admit to something more. At that point I was visibly enraged, and silent. Apparently to solve any issue you have with someone you fuck them, as she did, thinking I would forget about all of the prior conversation.  We talked for a bit, I told her I had something to do so she had to leave. As I was letting her out, (Funny side note: I only let this girl into my place in an out through the garage to my bedroom. She rarely saw the rest of my apartment) she gives me one of those meaning longing kisses goodbye. She left something in my room. I told her I’d keep it safe for her. She said she would get it, if she ever saw me again (she hasn’t.)

So I guess after this whole rant, the moral of the story is: don’t fuck up a good thing. Don’t complicate something as simple as constant sex. Keep it as simple as fucking possible. You wan’t to talk about my day? I want you to leave. 

This Post was written by: Drunk Bill