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I went to a bar on Saturday night, to celebrate my birthday with some friends. That isn't unusual, but it wasn't the sort of place you would usual find me. I'm a craft brewery, booth seat, fried food kind of girl.
This was a rooftop cocktail bar, where it felt like I, at 29, was about the oldest girl there, and possibly the only one wearing a bra. If I have known, I would have gone showing a LOT more skin. Something backless in the very least! I didn't even have my legs out! (Though at least I wore the jeans that make my ass look great).
Anyway, you can imagine the state that sort of place has left me in. I was at least hoping for a cute uber driver home. Sadly no. I had to come home, slightly drunk, and take care of myself.
If you're the sort of girl who goes to the kind of bar where the drinks have twelve ingredients, and your outfit isn't the kind of thing your mother would want to know you own, message me.
Tell me what you'd say to the tipsy, fit little chick with the pixie cut, who only looks slightly out of place.
You never know where the conversation might lead us. ** I'm Tara. I'm 29, fit, bisexual, physically small, and lots and lots of other things you can probably pry from my slightly tipsy mind
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