Keep it in the family.
Asked a cute girl out, Natalie, when I was 16 and she invited me to a dinner party at her place whilst her parents were out for the evening.

Went round, felt distinctly uncomfortable in front of her sloany mates, and thought it best to drink myself sociable with Pernod and Blackcurrant.

Proceeded to get absolutely shit-faced and, at some point in the late evening when I suddenly got the urge to call God, ran upstairs to her bathroom, sprayed purple vomit absolutely everywhere and collapsed in a heap.

I was just at the point of blacking out in the bathroom when the soothing sound of my girlfriend-to-be starts speaking to me and her gentle, tender hands help me from the floor. I'm in such a state I can't open my eyes. The same hands steady me up the stairs and into the spare room, and then help me get undressed. "Last chance, man," I think so without stopping to focus, turn round and ram my tongue down her throat for a good 10 seconds or so. We break off and I begin to drunkenly suggest we have a play together on the bed. The girl says it's not a good idea but I won't take no for an answer. I squeeze her arse for a bit and have my hand patiently removed. I go for her norks and get in a bit of a squidge before my hands are patiently removed. I give up at this point when I realise that I'm literally seconds away from blacking out, so I lie back and decide to let it take me.

The last thing I see as my eyeballs focus for the last time and my lids begin to droop... is Natalie's gorgeous Mum turning out the lights.

The next day I was greeted with an amazing hangover, a scouring pad and some Jif for the toilet I had to clean, cheeky smiles from her Mum, dagger style glares from her daughter and looks of total pity from the boy she'd spent the night getting off with whilst I was puking. The one-way ticket to singledom was welcomed at this point.
(Gilbo, Mon 25 Oct 2004, 15:06, Reply)