Back in my day we didn't throw around pics all willy nilly. Ya drank n' smoked at a bar, some dames came at ya, the night blurred on, and ya woke up covered in lipstick and random bruises with your wallet missing and half your clothes ripped like ya fought a tiger.
And we liked it.
8ack when even sleezes had class.
Back when we did shit face to face.
II bet there iis pllenty of dames that stiill do thiis nowadays, honey. Just have to llook iin those seedy, smokefiilled bars. =:]
Tch. Only thing dames want these days is the allure of a black mirror. All reflections, no substance. S'why I partly picked up this here doohickey of an "app". Realized I'm gettin' behind on the times...
I do tend to miss the competition of whether a dame or a gent were up for it. Even a slap to the face in rejection is far 8etter than the ease of unspoiling an image. Part of the entertainment is the long gazes towards the room and the chase for a dance.
Yeah, you get it. It's real, it's visceral. It's in yer face.
i don't miss the ripped clothes...but hey! whatever floats your boat
Thank fuck someone does.