Pride and Plastering
I met a very nice girl once, well she seemed that way. She had a cute smile, a flippy fringe, nice legs and a charming ground-floor flat in London. The first couple of dates I was very gentlemanly but after a while nature took its course and I stayed over at her flat.

"Your bathroom light switch," I said. "Needs fixing." It was, to my trained feel, a bit spongy, and required quite a sharp jerk to come on, so to speak.

"You're a boy," said she, ever hopeful. "Fix it." She seemed to be saying it to shut me up rather than actually expecting me to do anything. I immediately, and fatefully, resolved to show her who was the new DIY expert in her life.

The next time I stayed over I woke up extra early, scuttled off to the nearest hardware emporium (via the local bakery) and returned in time to wake her up with the doorbell, bearing the necessaries for a romantic breakfast and (so I thought) an even more romantic bathroom-fixing session.

Unfortunately for our hero pineapplecharm, the bastard who'd installed the old switch had done so before plastering the ceiling, meaning said switch was deeply sunk into the hardened surface and wasn't going to come off easily. Not wanting to make too much mess, I rather hopefully held up the switch part of the new unit to the wall-mount part of the old.. but sadly the new screws didn't bite the old thread, and the old screws were too big for the new holes. So I took it home again.

The next time I stayed over I brought the new switch back but, in the meantime, had drilled out the screw holes so it would mate up to the old 'heel' so securely cemented into the fabric of the room. Alas, I then discovered that the switch had been sufficiently weakened by my drilling that the screws crushed it to the point of cracking in two.

A third visit was required. Now bear in mind, gentlemen, that each of these occasions was predicated on a sufficiently seductive date to secure an invite back to her flat. This is no easy feat when your motivation is merely to have vigorous carnal relations; when you also have a secondary agenda of bathroom light repair it becomes a masterwork of deception and cunning.

It was shortly after visit four, during which I resorted to chipping a large chunk of her ceiling out with a screwdriver, that I suddenly realised that, to put it gently, I wasn't quite as keen on the old girl as I had been a month or two before when we'd met. All she ever talked about was her sister's kid, and her rich ex who had taken her travelling. And she wasn't nearly as pretty as I'd thought. It was a time to move on. And this left me with something of a dilemma: the bathroom ceiling was now a half-destroyed eyesore. Would I man up and realise that lying to her was much worse than leaving her with a minor repair outstanding? Would I bollocks.

Yes, folks, I continued to date a girl I'd completely gone off - conniving my way into staying over three more times (replastering, undercoat, topcoat) before, finally, announcing the job was done, cadging a lift back to Berkshire and then, during a meaningful chat in the park, ditching her as bluntly as I could.

I must say, it was a pretty good job, even if it took a while.

The switch, I mean, not the relationship. I fucking suck at those.
( pineapplecharm D d M Y, H:i, Fri 13 Sep 2013, 0:40, 11 replies)

Starting over - fail
In the smoldering ashes of a marriage breakup, the nasty bitterness of which I shall not drag out again, I decided to get back out there and try to meet someone new.

So like many I gave online dating a try.

There wasn't a great deal of choice back then and match dot com was by far the biggest, might still be. So I dutifully filled out page after page to create a profile, uploaded pictures and then submitted my payment details.

I almost held my breath with excitement as I clicked the button to find my matches.... Waiting for the pictures to load the first match was 100%, could there really be my perfect partner out there and living in the same small town as me!?

No, that genius website had decided my perfect match was my ex-wife. I looked a bit further and decided I probably wasn't ready to get back on the dating scene after all...

They also don't do refunds.
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Thu 12 Sep 2013, 13:56, 9 replies)

Broke it off with a ginger bird....
When I was young and not very good looking, (still not) I didn't quite have my pick of the girls. It was thus I came to be seeing Emma. She was my dark teenage secret... Think Linda out of Gimme Gimme Gimme. She took my virginity - well not quite, as I was about 14 I hadn't developed the right technique to deal with the "bigger lady", the first few times were in her arse - but I digress.

After a while it came time to treat her to the Spanish archer, and give her the el-bow. She didn't react too well, saying "If you dump me, I'll tell your mum that we've had sex!" As they hadn't met, I called her bluff and told her to do one. A couple of days later I was walking through town with mumsie, who I should point out was a bit of a social hand grenade. Fat ginger comes storming over and starts shouting. "Your son dumped me and I think you should know that we had sex!" The whole. Street. Stopped. There was deathly silence for a second. WHACK! I get a back hander from mum straight across the face.
"How could you have sex with that?!" "Look at it! LOOK AT IT!"
Problem solved I guess.
(sunray18, Tue 17 Sep 2013, 16:21, 9 replies)

I once bought a girlfriend a flash-light as a gift.
We split up shortly after. But as far as I know, she still carries a torch.
( JeffTheDogFucker Can you dig it?, Thu 12 Sep 2013, 16:39, 9 replies)

We had a really rubbish shag, and then I accidentally farted on her
Then I couldn't stop laughing. Then she asked me to leave.
( rofl harris, Fri 13 Sep 2013, 12:23, 6 replies)

lost it all
I moved from the US to Paris with no job just to be together with my girlfriend of 4 years who had gotten a year long job there. After a few months I ran out of money, and not having found anything to for work do as a non-French speaker, I moved back to the US and tried to start over, depressed, jobless, having sold my car and left my apartment before the trip, but at least I had the thought of carrying on for her to keep me going. Then she started seeing a Parisian guy and broke up with me.

I was so devastated at this point that I couldn't do anything- I stopped exercising, eating, going outside, had to rally all my strength to keep applying for work at all. I mostly just lay in bed, not even getting up to clean my place or go to the bathroom.

One day I woke up after not leaving the bed for some time, my bladder woefully engorged, and due to my morning tumescence and my position of repose, I actually ended up accidentally pissing into my own mouth.
( the prick of misery pierced my foot on a spiiiike on, Fri 13 Sep 2013, 5:14, 14 replies)

I guess it's over...
I discovered recently that my husband has been exchanging secret text messages with his ex.
They started off harmlessly enough - some boring stuff about work, but then they began to get increasingly flirty and they made plans to meet up.
I wanted to believe it was all innocent, but then I noticed he'd been asking people on here about it and it's clear that he still has strong feelings about her and that our son and I mean little to him.
I think I'm gonna screw the cheating little knobcheese for every penny I can.
(Gerald was innocent, Thu 12 Sep 2013, 13:55, 13 replies)

If a girl is straddling you
whilst grinding her muff into your face, as you indulge in a little cunnilingus, it really is quite possibly the worst time to find out that another man shot his load into her not half an hour before she arrived at your house.
( Muns, Fri 13 Sep 2013, 15:47, 16 replies)

It took about 2 years after we broke up for the mental 2am phone calls to stop.
The bitch changed her number
(AWESOMEB0T meddling prick, Thu 12 Sep 2013, 15:22, 2 replies)

Strangest break-up ever

Myself, the woman I was seeing at the time, my (female) best friend and another male friend had been enjoying an evening of recreational mood-enhancers, drinking, music, laughter and lunatic dancing. As the evening wore on, we eventually slowed down, and as it was a cold night, ended up under a duvet on the living-room floor.

Somewhat unexpectedly, since they weren't in any way an item, my best friend and the other guy started kissing and cuddling - and then clothes started to come off. So there I was, with my girlfriend, under the same duvet as another couple who were fucking. Naturally, I indicated with the universal language of eyebrows that perhaps we should join in, in one way or another.

At that point, my girlfriend decided that it was the right time to tell me that she wanted to break up. Not because of what was going on under the duvet, but for other longer-standing reasons. Now to be honest I wasn't too bothered, it was a pretty casual relationship, more a friends-with-benefits deal anyway. OK, so I was unexpectedly single, and I'd missed out on a four-way, but that's never been a particular fantasy of mine. We stayed in another room and let the others get on with it, then rejoined them once things seemed to have calmed down.

At which point the phone rang, and out of the blue an ex girlfriend, who I hadn't spoken to or contacted for about 7 months, called up and made it clear that she regretted breaking up with me and would like to get back together.

So I was single for about 10 minutes. Arranged to meet up with the ex, put down the phone and carried on the evening as if nothing had happened - though perhaps with a slightly startled expression...
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Tue 17 Sep 2013, 11:42, 7 replies)

I'd had a long and pleasant and fulfilling relationship with the old girl
lasting about 6 years. She was exotic (half English, half Japanese), reliable, fun, exciting, but also dependable when there was a lot of shit to go through. Unfortunately as time went on she was getting more and more expensive to keep. I kept having to shell out for new stuff for her and at the same time she was showing her age, she got progressively slower and less and less fun. So I reluctantly had to let her go and got myself a zestier younger model. Swedish, can you believe? She had a lovely purr. But I digress.

I did feel a bit of a heel for doing it to her but after a while it was obvious that there was a breakdown just around the corner. I still think back to her occasionally with fond memories but the past is the past.

I still really miss my old '94 plate Rover 620.
( Rotating Wobbly Hat That's not a banana. THIS is a banana., Sat 14 Sep 2013, 18:53, 7 replies)

Try not to break up at Alton Towers
The trouble with Alton Towers, or any big theme park I suppose, is queues. Big long boring queues snaking back and forth to cram as many waiting people into as small an area as possible.

So this is how I came to be fenced in with what must have been 200 people in front of me, another 200 people behind me and railings either side of me on the other side of which were yet more people. Oh joy.

There wasn't much to look at aside from reading the occasional witty T-shirt in the queue. I seem to recall the ride was called the black hole or something like that, so we couldn't even watch the ride as it was inside a big warehouse and we were outside in the cold drizzle that always seems to be Alton Towers weather on my visits.

Imagine if you will that the person you're stood next to is your pear shaped ginger girlfriend and tempers have been brewing all day. This is not the time to decend into a hushed voice arguament ultamatum.

I however did exactly that. So I got a slap round the face, one of those full contact loud snap noise ones that left half my face bright red and stinging while the staring onlookers made the other half of my face equally red.

Trouble was, penned in as I was there was nowhere to go. I couldn't get away from her or the onlookers so had to continue to queue in awkward silence for another 30 minutes until we made it to the ride itself. Praying to get separated and sit on different cars or even different goes on the ride, you guessed it we were ushered to the same car and had to sit pressed into one another on this dated rollercoaster. Awkward just doesn't cover it.

As the screams of excitement from other riders echoed round the dark emptiness I sat in silence, too angry to enjoy the ride or show any emotion at all. Of course the day dragged on even further especially when faced with the obligatory 2 hour drive to get home from there. Yeah I may have been a sod at times but I couldn't just abandon her miles from home.

Seriously don't break up at Alton Towers, it really spoils a day out.
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Fri 13 Sep 2013, 10:59, 11 replies)

A losing argument
During a rather heated break-up argument with an ex, she began listing all the things she hated about me (won't bother with them all as we'll be in TLDR territory). 'And I cant fucking stand your pedanticness either' she screamed. This caused me to break off from my own heated shouting to calmly say 'It's pedantry'.

For some reason this did not placate her and did just the opposite. She left me shortly afterwards, thank fuck.
(Bappage, Wed 18 Sep 2013, 9:06, 8 replies)

OK now... as the time is pertinent.
Got a msg outta the blue from a very lovely Kiwi lady I used to hang out with go places. Always fancied the arse off her; but collided relationships, I was or she was in ensured we never took any further.

That was circa 1995, the Kiwi met someone here in the UK and went back to sheep-land and finally married someone, who ended up cheating on her and the resultant divorce followed, queue lots of non starters for her ongoing.

Me, 1st marriage was cheated on, divorce. 2 years, 5 year legal battle and 40k in legal costs each.
Second marriage, 7 years and 9 together.

Last 2 - 3 years were hell with her son (my stepson) and her work / life, rowing every night, constant unwillingness to partake in each others family interests or me wanting to take time away with her alone.
The life was so toxic, I needed an out.
Massive depression on my part, prozac and counselling and such like, I learned a lot over those 2 -3 years.
Had resultant stomach issues, confined to work from home with no travel for work. I felt like I was dying.
Drinking too much... just needed to block the day to day out.

Mainly, it's really hard to bring up some other guy's kid from the age of 6 to 16.
I guess I am just not cut out for that, gave it what I thought was serious try, I failed as I am leaving.

So I piss off to Paris to meet with the Kiwi, for me... way too much good food / wine over several days.
Finally found myself alive again, talked to a lot of interesting people in cafes and bars.
We also hooked up with an Mercan workmate of mine for a night out, the coup de gras were 'Long Island Iced Teas' (French style).

So I asked her 'Would you like to take this ongoing', she answered 'Yis' (as they do).

She invites me back to Geneva after... hung out with her and relatives on lake Garda, had the best time.
Speaking daily on Skype, arsebook... et al, ongoing.
Meeting again in October in Thailand... looking to move to NZ to be with her, failing that shes coming back to the UK.

Ex Wife to be is ok, we both want to stay mates outta this, I will still support my stepson outta choice not commitment.

So possibly the best breakup ever.

We are all in a good place, all

Much love.
(Master_Slob UK minister for cultural appropriation., Fri 13 Sep 2013, 15:50, 25 replies)

Some other bloke's arse and some other bloke's arse
So, here's how it happened, a few years ago. You get into a relationship, youre well matched, you share interests and the sex is *fantastic*. So much so, that you move in and talk about making it all permanent.

She asked me to fix her computer - it was running like it was submerged in treacle, and had more bloatware on it than you could shake a shitty stick at. Halfway through mucking it out I accidentally dropped a file into the recycling bin. Clicked through and I found loads of pictures of my beloved getting royally porked at various angles buy some bloke. Being the curious type I had to check them out in more detail and found that a) the pictures were only dated the previous week and b) all my stuff could clearly be seen on the bedside cabinet. Well fuck that shit.

I could live with being cheated on. What really got me that there was clearly a third person holding the camera, and the arse pummeling up and down sometimes had a tattoo, sometimes it didn't. I closed the lid on her laptop, moved out that day, havent spoken since.
(Freddie Woo, Thu 12 Sep 2013, 15:27, 7 replies)

She was working as a waitress in a cocktail bar when I met her.
She agrees upon that, at least.
(Me, I'm not... in any way intoxicated, Tue 17 Sep 2013, 20:52, 1 reply)

Not me, but my friend
She had been dating this guy for about a year, and was utterly smitten. One night he took her out for dinner, as he had something to talk about. She was really excited, as she thought he was going to ask her to move in with him.

They sat down, and after a bit, he got to the inevitable point. Said it wasn't her, it was him. He just needed to try something new. Something different.

Like what? she sobbed. Are you gay? Are you going travelling?

Oh no, he replied. He just thought it was time he was with someone more..... BLONDE. And as she stared at him in disbelief, he went on.......

"please don't misunderstand me. The very last thing I'm saying is that you should go off and dye your hair".
( rachelswipe with a fork, Sat 14 Sep 2013, 20:38, 30 replies)

We were about 8 years old.
I'd wanted to hold her hand for ever and finally it happened.
We sat in silence, sweaty palms pressed together.

I remember looking shyly at her cute little face, wondering if I could pluck up the courage to kiss her and then glancing down to our intertwined fingers and as I did so, noticing how much hairier than my own her arms were.

"Wow" I marveled, "you have gorilla arms"


The over-sensitive bitch dumped me on the spot.
:-(
( Infidel , shit and wrong, Fri 13 Sep 2013, 12:46, 3 replies)

Have a pea - I broke up with this chick a long time ago - so it's more relevant than Ringofmisserypuppets
Gummy Mummy

Remember that time when you could have sex with school girls and not be thought a pedo, you know, before you crossed the line from teen to twenties, mmmmmmmmmmmmmm……………….

Sorry,

Anyway, back at that time when I had a delightful, soft skinned, perky breasted year 12 student, and being the mighty stud I was with over 15000 fucks to my name, and 3 of them weren’t even in the solo class, I found that her ability for knob gobbling was just not up to that standard I had come imagine. Being the sensitive 19 year old male, drunk on his own testosterone, I fucking told her so, and left her in no doubt that she either shape up or it was out on your arse. Of course not really knowing what I was talking about I couldn’t provide any instruction on what I liked or give her tips on what needed to improve (in fact despite endless informal research of blow jobs via porn films in the proceeding years, I hadn’t even figured that the girls spit on the love wand as more moisture the better, but, my naivety is story for another day).

A few days later we met up for a night of sophisticated activity (she came to my place to watch telly and drink cheap wine) which culminated in heading to the bed room for a bit horizontal folk dancing, started with the most mind bending session of dirtying her knees. Of course I wanted to know how in the space of 3 days she had developed such skills that would get a golf ball through 9 yards of hosepipe, and she told me she had asked someone who pointed her in the right direction. I was too pleased with the process to ask more questions.

The following night we had dinner her at her place. Her Dad was working but, her old girl was home. I didn’t quite know how to respond when her mum asked me directly if I had any further issue with her daughter’s “dick sucking methods”.

As soon as I had my girl her on her own, I asked what the fuck she had said to her mum.

Apparently after my ultimatum she had a sit down with her mum and dad.
She had asked if they knew about sucking cocks, which apparently they did.


She had asked “what Dad liked” ,


and her mum had showed her.


With a carrot.

If the old girl hadn’t been a 120kg, ugly as fuck, Scottish harpy I might have had a crack at the master considering the action of the student.

Still explains why her old man smiled vacantly a lot.

Length, 8 inch girth and 13 inches long, fucking huge carrot.
(bad_advice QOTW survivor from the first trollocost!, Sun 15 Sep 2013, 9:44, 10 replies)

Catherine Zeta-Jones
is very upset about separating from Michael Douglas as it comes soon after her personal trainer, gardener and favourite pool boy were all diagnosed with throat cancer.



Coat, door, exit!
( Vambo, Fri 13 Sep 2013, 15:31, 7 replies)

I knew a girl once. Took her to see India.
At the Oval.

Wish I could remember her name though. She's still got my wallet...
(Woodlouse say it with flowers. Send her a Triffid, Fri 13 Sep 2013, 12:25, 2 replies)

Don't take your love away from me
Don't you leave my heart in misery
If you go then I'll be blue
'Cause breaking up is hard to do

Remember when you held me tight
And you kissed me all through the night
Think of all that we've been through
Breaking up is hard to do

They say that breaking up is hard to do
Now I know, I know that it's true
Don't say that this is the end
Instead of breaking up I wish that we were making up again

I beg of you, don't say goodbye
Can't we give our love another try
Come on baby, let's start anew
'Cause breaking up is hard to do

They say that breaking up is hard to do
Now I know, I know that it's true
Don't say that this is the end
Instead of breaking up I wish that we were making up again

I beg of you, don't say goodbye
Can't we give our love another try
Come on baby, let's start anew
'Cause IN 2013, FUCK SHITPANTS NUGENT.
( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Thu 12 Sep 2013, 14:37, 1 reply)

I found out my wife was cheating on me
Turns out she was just using the scrabble piece upside down and pretending it was a blank
( cumquat may will not be commenting further on the allegations, Wed 18 Sep 2013, 22:53, 6 replies)

"It's not your fault, it's mine. In fact, it's really no ones fault", she said
"I feel we've just drifted apart. We're not the same people we once were", she said.
"I have my work and my yoga and the whole Italy thing. You have your video games", she said
"It's not that I don't love you", she said, "It's just that I no longer have any feelings for you. Instead of emotions there's just an empty feeling inside me"
"I need my freedom. I feel like a prisoner in this relationship. I need to break free before I waste too much of my life", she said.
So I said, "Babe, we're no strangers to love, you know the rules and so do I. A full commitment's what I'm thinking of. You wouldn't get this from any other guy."
I went on to say, "I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling. Gotta make you understand. Never gonna give you up. Never gonna let you down. Never gonna run around and desert you. Never gonna make you cry. Never gonna say goodbye. Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you"
But she walked out that door.
( cumquat may will not be commenting further on the allegations, Tue 17 Sep 2013, 18:13, 7 replies)

Birthday Break-up
Thirty-odd years ago, I was friends with some people who existed in a bit of a social bubble. They all seemed to go out with each other and would confide all the shenannigans to me. I have no idea why. I'm rubbish at this stuff. As they found out. *cringe*

I got invited to a big birthday party. Just how posh this party was I still can't quite comprehend. I got picked up at the train station by people I'd not met before. Apparently I was staying in *their* huge country house over night with a few other stragglers who'd not thought to inherit houses locally.

The party itself was in an even bigger house surrounded by temporary tents and marquees. There was booze everywhere. There was dancing. It was hours before I even met the host, so when I did, I was plastered. I wished him Happy Birthday. He introduced me to his girlfriend...

...and then I expressed surprise because I thought he was going out with someone else? Tumbleweed rolled. There were tears. There was swearing. I was an idiot. I tried to leave.

Except I couldn't - I had to wait for the family putting me up to leave and take me back to their house whilst hiding from murderous relatives of both sides of the now destroyed relationship.

There's now an entire COUNTY of posh people who hate me.
( chthonic, Mon 16 Sep 2013, 12:38, 24 replies)

A few years ago...
I came home to find my girlfriend packing a suitcase. She turned to me and said "I'm sorry, but I'm leaving you. It was my birthday yesterday and you never got me a present, a card or even acknowledged me. I'm going to find someone who will love me and appreciate me." She then hurried out of the house.

I called to her, "Wait love, hold on! Come back!" She stopped, turned around and walked towards me. Through the snow I could see that her eyes were bloodshot and a single tear was rolling down her cheek. Nevertheless she smiled as I said "Awww, you silly thing...

...You forgot your suitcase."
(Thor McLegend FUCK SHITPANTS PAC MAN, Fri 13 Sep 2013, 14:04, Reply)

Not what it is cracked up to be.
I was 39. She was 18.

Teasing me at work for weeks, I didn't really believe she was interested. At a petite 4'11, dusky and seductive.

Go on they all said, you lucky lucky bastard. So I did. She came round one day after work and stayed about three days. What the hell I thought, every old mans dream right?

Wrong.

House full of her sponging mates, empty fucking fridge, her dusky half spanish heritage and petite height made for sex like fucking the still warm corpse of Frodo Baggins.

The tipping point was when she vommitted all over my new sofa, across the lounge and bathroom and passed out head first in the toilet.

I have to say I lost my rag a little and asked her and her friends to leave.

Looking back I think I made the right decision as my last impressions of the young lady was of her friends dragging her by a leg each face down along the pavement, G string pulled around her knees, still unconscious and with a snail like trail of puke/drool leading from her mouth up the pavement, through the porch and into the bathroom.

Ladies, as you get older and think men like the younger models YOU ARE VERY WRONG.
(Mong The Merciless Older not wiser, Fri 13 Sep 2013, 13:32, 15 replies)

Brought it upon myself perhaps, but still
I had thought my backpacking days were over.

That was until I met James in my new job. James was a company IT guy and all round generally decent chap and he would sit there and quietly absorb the travellers' tales Sarah, another co-worker, and I would share. One company night out, in the pub, James revealed he'd been listening to our tales and wasn't getting any younger and wanted to jack his job in and do the working-visa year-in-Oz thing. I obviously had loved my wandering, did I want to go with him?

There was a problem - I was in a relationship.

Luckily, knowing I was a dromomaniac and that I still had the travel bug in my system, the girlfriend didn't mind if I went. We had phone, we had the internet and could keep in touch. Two other friends had heard about the plans and wanted to quit their jobs too so they could come along (though they'd be joining us four months in) and she'd know I'd be with them. So off James and I went to Oz.

James, it quickly turned out, hadn't been on a holiday without his parents and had never been abroad in his life. He couldn't cook, couldn't do much of anything as it turned out and wouldn't lift a finger to do anything that needed doing. I was the experienced traveller, obviously I had to do everything. Setting him up with the tax authorities? I did it for him. Setting him up with the reciprocal medical aid? I did it for him. I even had to get a spider out of his room at one point. Okay, this *was* Australia and their spiders apparently eat people but this one was tiny.

We soon went our separate ways. I made a new circle of friends via my temporary job and being on my own and ostensibly single, at a glance, I started to get offers from Australian ladies and female backpackers both. However, knowing my girl was waiting for me I informed them, with much regret, that I had a girlfriend and was unavailable. Six or seven girls I knocked back (though one of them was a flake, a tarot card reader had said her future hubbie would be a Brit and I showed up the very next week). The others were wonderful girls though.

I remained faithful, in spite of temptation, in touch with my girlfriend the whole time; enjoying what I imagined would be my last serious bout of travel before settling down.

Funnily enough, things never turn out how you imagine though. I didn't last the whole year, I cut it short with three months still left on my working visa. When I got home the girlfriend had a kid. Not mine either.
(Dildo Bugger destroyed a ring on, Thu 12 Sep 2013, 21:20, 36 replies)

Work...
We had a young student working with us for a few years, she was completing her law degree and had joined the company to do some work to gain experience in litigation.

Most of the single guys at work were pretty much smitten with her, but all of them were to be let down because she had already had a stable relationship that had been going on for a number of years.

About a year or so into her employment, the flame dwindled and after a small argument, mutually agreed that it was no longer working and they agred to go their seperate ways.

They continued to flat share in their two bedroom place until they both found something more appropriate for single living, and a few months later they had fully gone their seperate ways.

This is where it got interesting. It appears that he felt vindicated in posting pictures that were taking of her, legs akimbo in bed, pleasuring herself on a revenge porn site. Over time, this knowledge became widespread and with great speed had spread to our office. The information rapidly spread amongst every male working their and before long we'd all seen these pictures.

Eventually, one guy decided that it'd be sensible to do the right thing in the hope of getting a shag, whilst she was still on the rebound, and tell her about the website, pictures etc.

He didn't get anywhere. Christ knows why he'd want to, the pictures had revealed that she had spaniels ears for tits and a lady garden that looked like she was receiving oral from Leo Sayer.

More happened, but it's even more boring. Fuck knows why I thought this would be interesting to be honest.
( Muns, Thu 12 Sep 2013, 16:50, 4 replies)

Really?

I'd spent the best part of a year in pursuit of a certain young lady, previously just a mate but now someone I was pretty hot for. Unfortunately, although she was up for the occasional bout of horizontal jogging, she claimed not to be interested in a "proper" relationship at that point of her life.

Then just when I thought I'd cracked it, and seemed to be persuading her, she goes and meets someone else while out of town, and returns with him in tow - immediately moving him into her house. So much for not wanting a relationship, then. At that point I bowed out of the chase, since it was clear it was never going to happen, and I wanted us to stay friends.

Annoyingly, the New Bloke turned out to be a really great guy, and despite my best efforts we became friends ourselves. So much so that, when their relationship broke down a couple of years later, it was ME that he chose to come to for tea and sympathy. Bastard.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Thu 12 Sep 2013, 16:27, 23 replies)