I was due to meet Marina yesterday, but as I fell out of bed a text arrived to say that she was cancelling as her dog was ill and needed to be taken to the vet. Following a brief exchange of messages, which left us with a plan to meet on Monday, the good moose did write thus:
Tell me that u understand and that u are not thinking that I am a fucking bitch.
Let me think about this for a moment: I was left with my dick in my hand for a dog, and Marina is worried that I will be in some way angry at this.
I am, quite simply, speechless.
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