Beautiful but BonkersI used to see this girl from time to time. Face of an angel, body of a goddess, great in bed. The only downside was her emotional state. When she wasn't crying, she was screaming. Violence was never far from the agenda, and I finally called it quits when she sat down in the middle of a busy street, drunker than I thought possible, howling like a banshee and swearing at passers-by.
What kind of lunacy have you put up with in the name of lust?
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Fraser has joined the Moomins., Fri 17 Nov 2006, 13:31)
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Crazy dangerous boys.Ok, going back a couple of years I met a lovely (I thought so at first, think Johnny Depp - YUMMY) boy at a friend’s party in north London. The usual party stuff was going on, drinking, dancing, smoking a little pot, you know the kind of thing. Anyhow I cornered him in the kitchen after dancing with him a few times over the last hour or so and went in for a snog. He responded in kind and the sparks flew.
One thing led to another as they invariably do, but sadly, it was a week when the painters were in town, so there was no horizontal tango to be had. Not wishing to loose my chance with the boy, I satisfied him (and very much, me) *ahem* orally, so to speak. (not much actual speaking, of course)
Anyhow, fast-forward to the next day, he has my number and calls. 7 times before 7am, asking to meet up then begging, then demanding to see me. I agreed to a lunch date in a public place with a friend of mine, he agreed, and all seemed to settle down again, nice conversation etc.
Imagine my shock when he turned up at my flat at midnight that night, drunk and shouty, insisting we were meant for each other and demanding to be let in so he could “move in some of his stuff”. After an hour of shouted arguments which involved him punching me in the face twice, breaking a tooth, I managed to get him out of the door and called the police. The cautioned him for breach of the peace.
Over the next 2 weeks he hounded my every move, attempted to rape me twice and slashed the tyres on my car. The police managed to arrest him and hold him in a cell for 24 hours, which gave me enough time to get out of the flat and over to my aunt’s place the other side of London.
I gave up the flat and my (shitty) job in London that week and I’m living with my other uncle in France, running his fish export business. The ex-“boyfriend” is still at large, although he now has a conviction for aggravated assault and a suspended sentence.
I don’t like coming back to London anymore.
Who said it’s us girls that are crazy?
Apologies for the length? Well he should, for the lack of it.
(, Tue 21 Nov 2006, 10:46, Reply)
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