First Meal At Girl Friends Parents Disaster
I still cringe to this day when recounting this - so I see this as a chance at cheap "board therapy"...

Picture the scene, first serious girlfriend; been going out a couple of months; getting to the "groping regularly in a very heated fashion indeed" part of the relationship; get invited over to her parents for the first (and, as it turned out, last) meal.

Mistake #1: Going out on the piss the night before with mates

Mistake #2: Getting completely f**king rat-arsed.

So, long story short, turn up at hers at about 11.00, chatting, bit of kissing and stuff, down to the living room (nicely decorated, quite expensive stuff) and: quite full of cooking stuff smells... which, to be blunt, are not sitting well with my hangover.

Told I am looking a bit "green", am I ok? "Oh yes, perfectly fine." I reply...

My girlfriend, looking concerned comes over to see if I am ok, ask me if I want to visit the bathroom - her Mum coming into the room, also looking concerned.

Now, have you ever got that feeling that everything is going in slow motion (you know, like Chariots of Fire) when the important bits about to happen; even though you are not quite sure what the important bit is? Well, if you have, you'll have some idea of how this played out for me both at the time, and in the following years:

Girl friend has arms clamped around me, and tells me she hopes I'll be ok... girlfriend wearing lovely new (and rather revealing) dress... (you can see where this is going, can't you...)

I reply... "Honest, I'll be ok in a min..." and promptly re-learn the meaning of projectile vomiting (having forgotten it since I was baby.)

Now (yes, it gets worse...) being the loving boyfriend type, I decide (in the vain hope this still might turn out ok) that covering one's girlfriend (and especially her new dress) in vomit is not: a) going to go down well; b) get any kind of additional after-dinner groping and fondling in; and c) be considered socially acceptable.

So (feel free to cringe at this point), I carefully aim away from her, somewhat failing, BUT, and this bit is quite important, actually improving my aim at her mother (and, as I found out later, their new sofa.)

To recap: instead of the nice, family oriented and romantic dinner with my girlfriends family, I actually ended up making the later afternoon (twas a Sunday) turn into a scene from The Exorcist (minus the possesion, oh and the crucifix fucking, obviously) and, mostly successfully avoiding my girlfriend's dress. Alas, not her shoes, her mother, the new sofa and substantial portions of the carpet.

I merely praise God that they didn't have a dog.

Strangely, we did break up within a couple of weeks (though I think she forgave me overall)... but I still carry the emotional scars.
(justinb Maybe, maybe not!, Mon 25 Oct 2004, 9:53, Reply)