She called me a whore.
I suppose I deserve it.
She doesn’t understand my incessant need for it.
And over again.
I don’t think, necessarily, that whore was called for.
And being my friend it felt a little extra harsh.
How many do you need?
Is always the answer.
She called me a bike whore.
Did I not make that clear?
What don’t you have enough of?
And what, pray tell, did you think I was talking about?