My record with women
as you may or may not know, is a total disaster. One failed marriage with someone who still, despite everything, has her hooks firmly in me if recent events have proved anything, a couple of brief tonsil hockey matches with ladies a clear ten years younger than me, and a deeply disturbing escape from jabba the hutts stunt double as she tried to drag me caveman style behind a building whilst whining "pleeeeeeeease", all of which i have previously used as answers here if you care to look.

I've also moaned about how I generally don't understand women. Some of my friends, bless them, have a tendency to cheat, lie and generally use their conquests, drunkenly knobbing semi conscious "ladies" behind some bins before feeling up their friends, yet have no end of willing victims queueing up for a future let down. I, as always, am considered the "nice" one, but my queue is decidedly lacking. There is, however, one person who restored my faith in humanity and made me feel as if I'm maybe not viewing the world all wrong.

She is a friend of my cousin's and I met her briefly one night in the pub. a fair bit older than me, which these days is saying quite a lot, she's probably in her mid forties. Now I'll admit she's not bad looking, but apparently after I spoke to her for a bit she would not stop talking about me. My cousin kept saying "She loves you to bits, by the way, shes mental about you!"

I was a trifle scared, to be honest.

I met her again about a month or so later and got talking to her. The woman is mad as a hatter and absolutely hilarious, and as I've said, not too shabby either, and I started thinking that well, maybe, it was worth a go. Within about an hour she turned into a hyperactive octopus. There were hands in places I didn't know I had places, while other hands grabbed my hands and put them places where I knew there were places but thought I was barred from. No spit was swapped yet (I thought it was a bit odd I was getting such a groping yet no attempts to kiss were made), but it looked on the cards. All the while she purred in my ear "Your friends are arseholes, by the way. Chancers! They'll try it on with anybody!"

Hah. Someone else has noticed.

"You're not like that"

Obviously. *smugs*

"You're better than that. You're a good person."

I felt a little bit taller.

"You're really nice"

Yes, I know.

"My husband was dead jealous when he saw a picture of you."

Yes, and so he should...... excuse me?

"He wanted to see a picture of you cos I kept mentioning you, he went mad when he saw how nice looking you were".

Er.... that's..... um..... nice, I suppose.....

"I feel a bit sick...."

Oh for fucks sake.

She was at the falling down drunk stage, and I knew if I left her in radar range of my friends she'd wake up with a sore head, no knickers and a lot of explaiing to do. I walked her to another pub at closing time, had to pick her off the floor a few times but was rewarded with all the compliments I could handle. I didn't kiss her, though I think she wanted me to, because I'm either A: a fool or B: a decent person. Got her into a taxi and sent her home to her family.

I've since met her daughter, who is about the same age difference from me, but the other way, and a bit of a stunner, but doesn't share her mum's affinity for me unfortunately. I've also met her husband. Nice man.

He would definitely beat me in a fight, as well. Definitely.
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 17:42, 3 replies)

Well, you did the Right Thing.
Funny how that doesn't always feel like much of a reward, though.
(Sundayturkey has the biggest mug of tea, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 20:58, closed)

I'm always doing it :(
I sometimes wish I was an arsehole, arseholes are always happy.
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 1:31, closed)

Have a click
from another nice guy who (more than once) has walked away from an easy shag because it wasn't the right thing.
(grundig Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier!, Sat 6 Dec 2008, 2:48, closed)