Crazy Sex Calls and a Trip to Scotland
It's a long one.

Eighteen months ago or so, I was near completing an A Level English course. There was a shy girl who never really said much, but I started to become quite attracted to her. We'll call her Shy Girl. One time, I saw her walking in the street. She was wearing a low cut top and a very long, flowing skirt. Being the master of words and literacy that I am, I came up with a genius chat-up line.

"I like your skirt".

After this, we went for coffee. Three hours passed, and it turned out she was a lesbian. Gah. All this time wasted on nothing. Nevertheless, she became one of my best friends. We chatted about everything, set each other up on dates, ringing each other to chat and occasionally went on nights out, getting very drunk. Ah, the wonderful platonic relationship. Then it got a bit weird.

In 2005, Bob Geldof decided to announce Live 8. The only way to get a ticket was to answer a hideously easy music question (it was something like "Is Chris Martin [a] a singer, or [b] a pineapple). I entered the competition to go to the Edinburgh Live 8 on July 6th. Luckily, I won two tickets. Huzzah! So, I thought I'd bring Shy Girl along. She was ecstatic. I thought shed be excited to see Feeder or any other teeny bop band that was playing. But no, she was excited to see Wet Wet Wet.

To be honest, I should have noticed she was a bit crazy from there.

A couple of weeks before the event, our regular friendly phone calls were getting a bit weird. A bit.. sexy. She began saying stuff like "you know, when we share our hotel, we can play a game...". What kind of game? She didn't say.

To be honest, I should have realised she was getting a bit more crazy here. But let's continue the story.

The phone calls began getting even weirder. She started saying stuff that I usually pay 75p a minute for. Honestly? I was loving it. My attractive so-called lesbian friend was pretty much offering herself to me just for taking her along to a free competition gig that I won. Magic! Then came the day of the event itself. As soon as we got on the train, she grabbed my junk, pointed between her legs and said "tonight, this is miiiine".

Okay, now I was scared. Shy Girl was turning into Slut Girl. During The Scariest Train Ride Ever (TM), she began to say all sorts of stuff to me. What she wants to do to me at the hotel. How she wants to give me a handjob during Daniel Bedingfield (I'm glad this never happened in the end to be honest. I would kill myself if afterwards, I listen to the whining git and get aroused). She then confessed she was a virgin. Fuck's sake. This was getting weird.

Then, the hotel room came. Hmm. She started whispering kinky shit like "take off my knickers.. but only with your teeth". You guys would probably love this, but this is coming from a girl who I've established a platonic relationship with, and who wouldn't say boo to a goose. She'd never ever swore before. I was then recieving the worst blow job ever (you know.. the one where they just hold it inside their mouth). Not nice.

Then we went to the gig. She started proceeding to touch my junk as Ronan Keating was warbling his crazy Irish chanting. Urk.

We got back to the hotel after two hours of looking for a taxi, and just before she wanted to start Round Two of the Awkward Sex Game, I confessed that I didn't really want to. She was lovely and all... she was just... crap. At this news, she proceeded to be very upset. We stayed in seperate beds that night.

I woke up with her on the phone. She was talking to someone (who I later found out to be her mum), and saying stuff like "No! He used me. He humped and dumped me! He's been using me all along!"

Grr.

I got angry, and told her (and I'm paraphrasing), to "Piss the fuck out of my sight, you lesbian fucking prickface."

And that's how Shy Girl's parents found out she was gay.

Beautiful, but a fucking headcase.

(Go on.. click that you like this.. don't shun me just because of the newbieness...)
( __, Fri 17 Nov 2006, 15:39, Reply)