I met you at the bar and we had a couple of drinks. You really were not even my type--all you could do is talk about yourself and your BMW. But I was drunk and decided to go fuck anyway. Retrospectively I should have just gone home and beat off. Then we got back to your place and all you could do was bitch about your ex! You had talked about how big your dick was at the bar; in reality it might be bigger than average, but you certainly don't know how to use it. Your lies I could have dealt with but the next day as I was washing my car I got an old, familiar itch. YOU FUCKING FREAK, YOU GAVE ME CRABS. Not only do I have to deal with the humility of having slept with you, now I have to deal with your amazing little present. Get a life.--Anonymous