The Moroccan and I we were off and running after my birthday bash.

He couldn’t get enough of me and called and texted me several times a day to tell me.

And I couldn’t get enough of him, especially after confirming that his penis was comparable to the Utahan’s.

Happy Birthday WinterInNYC!

One night the Moroccan suggested that he sleep over and drive me to work in the morning.

We snuggled and fell asleep together watching a movie and then played house in the morning, as I got ready for work.

We stopped off at Dunkin, grabbed some much-needed coffee and headed into the city.

Pleasantly happy with how the night went and having no idea where we were headed (figuratively speaking) I sipped my coffee while we made small talk.

As we neared the midtown tunnel I looked over and caught a glimpse of his key chain in the car ignition….

#1 Dad

Wait! What? #1 Dad? The fucker told me he was single….

Turns out, I scored myself a married Moroccan father of 2!

And the reason why he was able to call me at all hours of the night, hang out with me almost every day for three weeks and sleep over whenever he wanted to was because his family lived in Morocco!

Although he didn’t make his real life confession during the drive into the city that morning, he finally came clean a few days later.

When I asked him why he lied to me he admitted that if he had told me the truth I wouldn’t have given him my number. Smart!

I have now realized that after our 2nd kiss when he told me that I kissed him like his wife, he didn’t mean that we had crazy chemistry and a level of comfort you have with a spouse.

He literally meant that I kissed like his wife!

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