Ryot.Bisley.Balls: This coming from the girl who posted a glass of orange juice this morning with the comment: no pulp.

DrinkWithMe: And I have twelve thousand likes and over two hundred comments. Just checking your post *licks finger, flips paper over on clipboard* and ah, yes, it says that you have eight comments and fifty likes. Soo . . . I think one of us is doing something right.

Ryot.Bisley.Balls: So do you want me to start posting my drinks?

DrinkWithMe: Uh, dude, try to be original. I know it might be difficult, but desperation for likes doesn’t look good on you.

Ryot.Bisley.Balls: I’m not desperate for likes. The only reason I even thought about it is because you keep harping on me.

DrinkWithMe: Are you calling me a nagging wife?

Ryot.Bisley.Balls: Wife? Isn’t that stretching it a bit far?

DrinkWithMe: I don’t know. I’ve slept over at your house. You paid for my meal. You told me all about how you like to spread legs. We’re practically married at this point.

Ryot.Bisley.Balls: Hell, has the dating circuit really changed that much since I’ve been out of it? Didn’t know I could marry that quickly with two interactions.

DrinkWithMe: Oh yeah, real hook, line, and sinker out there. One date = engaged. Second date = old married couple. Welcome to the world of sexual social engagements.

Ryot.Bisley.Balls: Eh, I think I’ll crawl back into my hole. Thanks.

DrinkWithMe: Have you really not dated anyone in a while?

Ryot.Bisley.Balls: Let’s just say dinner with you the other night was the closest thing I had to a date in about a year. And that wasn’t a date, that was . . . hell, I don’t know what that was.

DrinkWithMe: I don’t know. You left me satisfied and wanting more.

Ryot.Bisley.Balls: Then you must be easy to please.

DrinkWithMe: If only.

* * *

DrinkWithMe: So . . . what is this game of baseball you play?

Ryot.Bisley.Balls: Never heard of it?

DrinkWithMe: Sports have never tickled my tits. Now balls, on the other hand . . . hey-o!

Ryot.Bisley.Balls: Tickled your tits, huh? What exactly does that? Besides balls of course.

DrinkWithMe: Glad you asked. Three things in particular: tongues, fingers, and peanut butter.

Ryot.Bisley.Balls: Do tongues and peanut butter ever come into play together?

DrinkWithMe: Only once and it was an absolute disaster. The guy gagged from peanut butter mouth, dry-heaved, and I ended up running across the house, raccoon tail butt plug dangling out my ass as I grabbed him water.

Ryot.Bisley.Balls: Can we discuss the raccoon tail butt plug?

DrinkWithMe: The guy was a bit of a freak. It lasted a month. After the peanut butter fiasco, we called it quits. I returned the butt plug and went on my way.

Ryot.Bisley.Balls: Now that’s what you should be taking pictures of . . . butt plugs.

DrinkWithMe: Yeah, so I can have pervs like you sliding into my DMs daily? No, thank you. I get enough of that by selling pics of my feet.