My graduation ball
My grad ball was notoriously shit, it was held (for some unknown reason) at a racecourse rather than a traditional hall or club or function room, the food was shit, the dj didn't turn up (actually that was probably a plus, it was meant to be Alex Zane). And we were charged £50 for this. But I didn't mind.

See, I was in a state of complete infatuation for my then girlfriend. She was amazing, smart, funny, gorgeous, wore too much eyeliner (one of my buttons), was obsessed with Radiohead (another one of my buttons), and to cap it all off, she wanted to have sex as constantly as I did.

So the party's been underway for a couple of hours, me and the lady have been working our way through a couple of bottles of champagne, and we head out of the main room for a cigarette outside. Walking down the steps we start kissing, longer and harder each time, until with a smile she drags me away from the party and off into the night.

Needless to say, I was happy with this state of affairs, and a few minutes later I, like the gentleman I am, had thrown my suit jacket to the ground to keep her prom dress from getting muddy as we got down to business on the Kemptown racetrack (yes, the one from the song - it's five miles long, doo-dah, doo-dah).

A short while later, I started noticing a disturbance in the force. A quick check confirmed my fears - my efforts had not gone unnoticed by my woman's fragile uterine walls, and they had chosen that moment to start their monthly clearout.

But as I mentioned above, I was a gentleman, and not one to spoil a perfect evening by wussing out at the sight of lady-blood. After checking that she was OK, we carried on until we were both quite satisfied and collapsed in a breathless heap.

It was at this point that I realised I didn't have any tissues or similar to hand, and, it transpired, neither did she. So biting the bullet, we decided to get our clothes as in order as possible, and make our way surreptitiously back through the party to the toilets at the front of the building.

As we huddled together walking back, passing under the pool of light cast by an open kitchen window, she suddenly pulled away from me, staring in horror at my stomach. I looked down.

Stained was not the word. My white pinstripe shirt was utterly soaked in scarlet. I don't know how I hadn't noticed up to this point, I suppose I must have assumed I was sweating from all the vigorous activity. She was still staring at me with an expression of disgust bordering on fear.

"You...you're bleeding..."
I looked at her slightly confused. "No..."
"But you...I..." Realisation dawned. "I'm bleeding?!"
"Ye-es? I thought you knew?"
"No!! Why wouldn't you tell me??!!"
"I...I asked if you were OK..."
"I thought you were just asking if I was OK!"
"Oh...you wouldn't have..?"
"NO!!!"

Long story short, I spent the next couple of hours looking like a complete spaz wearing my suit buttoned up down the front, while my freshly menstrual girlfriend directed all her menstrual fury at me, in between trips to the bathroom to clean up and get more toilet roll. In the end I managed to pacify her by discreetly asking a good friend of mine if I could borrow her tampax, and sheepishly offering them to her. We made up by the end of the night, and the rest of the ball went by in a happy drunken haze, but a warning to all other guys: apparently if a woman's 'enjoying herself' at the precise moment that her cycle begins, she doesn't always realise that it's happening. A useful thing to remember.
(jabboy, Sat 9 Aug 2008, 3:25, 4 replies)

As a bookie, I am forced to pull you up on one point...
One banal and insignificant point - it's KempTON race course :)

Good story, but of all the tracks to get busy at - dirty Kempton lol.
(bacontrout got ska, Sat 9 Aug 2008, 13:06, closed)

Really?
But it's in Kemp Town. And I was sure that was how the song went. Oh well.

EDIT: Just realised I missed the obvious 'length' joke opportunity with the whole 'five miles long' thing...never mind.
(jabboy, Sat 9 Aug 2008, 13:52, closed)

i think the song...
is actually about CAMPDOWN racetrack?
( blaireau69 , the Cumbrian Travis Bickle., Sat 9 Aug 2008, 14:48, closed)

On investigation it turns out you are right.
I've been getting that wrong for years.
(jabboy, Sat 9 Aug 2008, 18:31, closed)