I ain't talk to this nigga since 1pm and he's usually home before me. I get off at like 3:30. Home at 4. He still not here. I'm not worried.
He calls on my other line and I merge the calls. We start getting on him about it. You know what he says? "My phone died."
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NO SHIT SHERLOCK! He talmbout "did you cook dinner". I'm ready to kick his ass.
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Moral: men are careless, here to give us heart attacks, and ask what's for dinner. Also: I really love this nigga.
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I also want to hit him, and kiss him, and beat his ass, and hug him. It was the worst feeling ever not knowing.
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Men are trash
End of conversation
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