Dear Lily,
It turns out I inadvertently proposed to my girlfriend. Under the influence of cider, that devious temptress lured me in with promises of a blow job, and before I knew it, I found myself on one knee expressing how honored I would feel taking her as my wife. The last time I made a significant decision while drunk, I woke up covered in glitter next to a guy with a pink feather boa, but at least he was decent enough to never bring it up. I suspect my girlfriend will not be so forgiving. Am I really going to have to marry this cow?
Lily says – I recently found myself in a similarly difficult situation when I foolishly promised the heaviest girl in class, Frances Hall, that she could attend my sleepover in exchange for a ride on her new pink bicycle. Admittedly, it was quite enjoyable to ride it and ring the bell, but as soon as I got off and the initial thrill faded, I realized I had made a monumental mistake. If the talk among classmates is to be believed, Frances Hall is the last person you want at your sleepover, not only because she needs at least three sleeping bags but also due to her tendencies of touching herself under the covers and her much louder farts than the dog, for which she never takes responsibility. Unfortunately for Frances, I had my fingers crossed when I made that promise, meaning it was all null and void, so I didn’t have to invite her after all. I hope you weren’t so intoxicated that you missed out on similar precautions, and remember: accepting favors from heavier girls is never wise.
Hope that helps!
