He will say good morning to you, ask you how you are and how your weekend went. He’ll make a joke about how tired you look and then he’ll imagine forcefully grabbing your tits.
I’m not the one. I’m too nice and too young and too emotional and lacking in the genital department.
He could talk you into bed in seconds and I haven’t been able to talk you into a pub after two years.
He’d treat you like shit and leave you hanging. I’d treat you like a goddess and message you three times in a row.
This next month I’ll probably be heartbroken. He’ll be smug and you’ll be wounded.