In the driver’s seat of the car in front of the bike. (Eh, or behind.)

This is how I feel. Live and let live, folks.

You are a hero.

Ooh, I’m really excited for this. My husband and I live 400 miles apart (400 miles of winding, mountainous roads), and we travel to see each other every weekend. I would feel so much better if my husband could just request my location while he was at work, rather than wait for me to call. Not to mention, should the…

Your username kinda matches your comment

Lol.

Sweet, didn’t need either. Just might survive the next four years.

This is one of the nicest compliments I’ve received on the internet.

I thought your concern was really sweet, actually, because you never do know. Your partner sounds like a good person, I hope you two have long, sex-filled lives together!

Me too, last night. Like, two hours later realized ain’t nothing happening.

Oh gosh, I’m sorry if I gave the impression he’s not. He is superly, duperly understanding, and hasn’t much been in the mood himself. We just currently live 400 miles apart (temp sit), and I really really really want to get it on. So... Alcohol and toys. Because I miss getting it on like bunnies :(

Yeah. Same. And my husband is in town and we finally have some privacy.

I was attempting to edit my comment and I seem to have either flagged or dismissed you, but your comment is gone. My apologies, I am newly ungreyed on Kinja, and unfamiliar with the platform.

That’s right, I had tried to forget that we now live in a country where basic decency and respect are actually negative qualities, and being a trolling dick is considered admirable.

It is day three of post-traumatic Trump disorder and I am feeling about as terrible as I did on day one.

Listen sweetie, if my post bugs you feel free to ignore it.

You might think it cute, but when you’ve only got one eye, you take this shit seriously.

I had some fucking tool shine a laser in my eyes when I was driving on a street next to the dorms my senior year of college. Almost got some people killed on the sidewalk. Still fucking livid.

Ok to be fair tho this was basically me. Momma said find a man who knows how to cook, because I’m not fucking doing it for you for the rest of your life, and you’re not allowed in the kitchen.

Oh God that brought me back to high school. Not in a good way, either.