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This is a question Asking people out

Tell us your biggest successes and most embarrassing failures. Not that we're after new chat-up lines, or anything.

(, Thu 10 Dec 2009, 11:36)
Pages: Latest, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, ... 1

This question is now closed.

Too soon?
(, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 12:28, 4 replies)
Tha bash street kids envelope.....
I was about 10, and had a crush on the cousin of the lad who lived next door to me. She was blonde, gorgeous and a couple of years older than me (at big school) - so out of my league (though I didn't realise this at the time). I decided to ask her out by letter, "hi, / I love you, / will you go out with me?". Fairly standard stuff, but the envelope was something else. I had taken apart a regular envelope, laid it over the middle of my 25p Beano (60p last time i checked!!!) I drew around it, cut it out and stuck it together like a regular envelope. I now had an eye catching Bash Street Kids envelope. I handed it to her and ran away giggling like a girl. She never answered. She stopped going to her cousins after that too.

I saw her when I went to visit a friend a couple of years later (she happened to live around the corner). I decided to pull over (I was on my bike) an say hello. I shouted her name and then mounted the kerb just as she looked around. My front wheel came off and I ploughed straight into the concrete path. She walked off. Laughing.

I forgot about this until the other day when I served her in McDonalds. She didn't know who I was, but seemed quite disturbed that I knew her name. I don't think i'll remind her how she's supposed to know me!

Verdict: Fail

Apologies for length, but I don't think it was that impressive back then.
(, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 11:18, 9 replies)
does my chloroform smell like tissue to you?

(, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 10:40, Reply)
My brother
When we were about twelve or so, my brother decided he was going to buy this girl he really liked a Valentine’s card.
So off he went down to Balfour News, or whichever generic brand of newsagent it was that year, to buy the perfect card to win her affection.

He comes back a bit later with a card with a picture of a hedgehog or a hamster or something on it, under the legend “Number 1 Stud”.

I spot his small yet important error but decline to tell him.

Come Valentine’s day he gives her the stud card, she shows everyone and we all laugh so much he cried on the bus home.

I think we had sausages and chips for tea later that night too, it really was a great day.
(, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 8:59, 2 replies)
I'm useless talking to women
Good job, I am a male adonis, and they talk me into bed before I even open my mouth and say something stupid to ruin getting my end away.
(, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 8:53, 3 replies)
Drunken Honesty
Late 2005 I was out with some boorish banker clients and, as visitors to our fair shores, they wanted to go and see Hong Kong's Wanchai girly bars. Sperm splashed velveteen has never really been my thing and certainly not with clients. So we made the sort of plan that only makes sense after a skinfull - I would wait in the 'normal' bar (Mes Amis if you know it) and they would join me afterward.

So there I am, nursing another drink I don't need, slowly realising they aren't coming back (intelligence is not a strong suit) when I see a vision. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen - if cartoon physiology was real my jaw would have hit the floor. She was in a big mixed group but as far as I could see not with anyone of them in particular.

I knew I should just leave and not make a tool of myself but it was like a challenge from the Gods. She was waaaay out of my league - I knew that even pissed. I was drunk, reeking of ale and deadliest of all, on my own, but I knew being blown out would be less painful than kicking myself for not trying.

But what to say? "Hello Chick, my name's Dick, want some"? just didn't seem appropriate. I decided I would near finish my drink and speak to her as I was on my way out to lessen the pain should she loudly tell me, just as the music dips, to fuck off - which is what I expected. And without a clue what to say I decided to go with fate and just say the first thing than came to mind. I drank slowly and fearfully.

The moment came and I slouched from my chair in my least drunken stalkerish way. I sat beside her and said "I was about to leave but I had to talk to you first. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen".

No I don't know where it came from either. She smiled. And we talked. And laughed. And then at 5am she said she had a flight to catch in 3 hours and she really had to rush off. Oh yeah I thought - super excuse though. We swapped numbers and I thought that would be that. But it wasn't by a long way.

We're still together, married and have little Prescottsflu now. And she still reckons she's out of my league. She's right of course, but I win.
(, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 4:51, 9 replies)
I can only apologise for taking up half of a page in one go
I have insomnia you see. Anyway.

"Hello, I am a government inspector, may I please weigh your breasts?" Then grab them and go "Weeeeeeeyyyyyyyy!" whilst jiggling. In my view a quick way to either casualty or barlinnie prison, but apparently it has "worked" on numerous occasions.

Similarly, "I bet you a pound I can make your boobs move without touching them." Then a similar grab and jiggle move, followed by handing the young maiden in question a shiny pound coin as soon as she protests. Again, seems like a quick way to being put on some sort of register to me.

The most dangerous approach I ever witnessed was attempted by a young friend of a friend on a night out in newcastle. I was "gannin doon the toon" a few months back when I witnessed one of the folk in my company dipping his fingers in his drink and flicking at a..... generously proportioned young lady. Understandably annoyed, she enquired as to what said young gentleman was about.

"What tha' fuck yee deein, man?"

"Just keepin ya wet til greenpeace arrives, pet"

I lost a good half of my drink out my nostrils.
(, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 4:44, 5 replies)
As I have just realised
that I could pair my bluetooth keyboard to my ps3, here's another.

My last foray into the world of women was..... interesting to say the least. I've already pointed out that I'm, well lets not pull any punches here, I'm rubbish at asking women out. But every so often, one or sometimes even two become interested enough to have a crack at asking me out themselves. Or something along those lines anyway.

The last time this happened was about six weeks ago. I had gone to my local for a quiet pint and a game of snooker with a few mates and was surprised to find that as well as the usual suspects, there were a couple of young ladies in the pub. I seemed to catch one of their eyes quite quickly and got a few little smiles, and by the end of the night we were the only ones left in the pub and were all fairly drunk. The two girls were holding forth on the subject of virginity, and it soon became apparent that one of them had managed to make it to the age of 20 without losing hers, something which she seemed eager to rectify. I found myself talking to her as we made our way to my friends house for a party after the pub closed. Talking is one way of putting it. Half carrying half dragging while she slurred "I mean, would you shag me?" was another.

When we got to the house, I wandered to the kitchen to get myself a drink and she followed me. As I bit the lid off my bottle (class act, me) she sheepishly moved alongside me. Then, with a startling turn of speed that I had thought was beyond her in the state she was in, she shouted "RIGHT!" and grabbed my head in a vice like grip, planting her lips in the general area of my mouth and immediately almost collapsing to the ground. Standing there holding up this paralytic girl, I felt that ever present thorn in my side, my coinscience, spring into action. I couldn't do it. I managed to get her off my face for long enough to ask her if she was sure what she was doing. She hardly know who she was by this point let alone what she was doing, so I sat her in a chair and got her a glass of water. She seemed genuinely depressed that her epic struggle against virginity had again failed, so I gave her my number and told her to ring me when she was sober. (which she hasn't, so I guess I was right).

That was round one of the female chat ups that night. "RIGHT!" It was novel, I'll give her that, and I don't get chatted up a lot so it was...... interesting. A warm up, if you will. For a few seconds later, her friend came into the kitchen.

As soon as she entered, the first girl stood up, shouted "You always do this to me!" and ran out the door. Instead of going after her, her friend , the one who'd been smiling at me all night, plonked down next to me on the chair and gave me a huge grin. "What's wrong with her?" I asked. And received the most interesting chat up line I've ever had to date.

"She thinks I want to shag you."

"Oh". I replied. "Erm.... do you?"

"Yep." The big grin again.

"Oh. Ok then" I said. "Just gimme a few seconds, need to nip into the toilet for a tic" There must be some in there. There must be. There was.

You'd think that this story would end well, though, wouldn't you. A night of hot passion. Well, it's me, isn't it. I returned from the toilet barely two minutes later and found her tonsil deep in my mate. Fear not though, for kissing was as far as they went, and soon she again turned her mind to me, and being that I was drunk and pretty much didn't care by this point, she needed no further chat up lines when she found me in the living room. (yes, they are a classy buch round here)

But wait. It's still me, isn't it? It must go wrong somewhere? Well, I didn't mind the biting of my neck. I didn't mind the tearing at my clothes. I was sort of weirded out by being asked to request that she be "A good girl" and "Not a bad girl", but hey, my brain has already talked me out of one bonk tonight, I'm damned if I'll let it do me over again. Bit more biting. Yes I want you to be good, yes. Then she went and bloody said it didn't she?

"Do you want to come home with me?"

I did. I really did.

"You can meet my mum and dad."

Yes OK that'd be ni...... wait. What? it's half past two in the morning.

"I'll wake them up."

Wait, why would you do that? I managed "Ummmmm...... wouldn't you rather stay here?"

"Say it."

"Say what?" I was starting to feel my spidey sense tingling.

"You know what"

I didn't.

"I, erm, want you to be good?"

"NO!" I think I shat myself a bit at this point. "SAY IT! You know what to say".

I really didn't. I told her as much. She leaned in and whispered in my ear. "Say you'll never leave me. Say you love me."


Now, I may have been pissed and by now genuinely weirded out, but I kept proper decorum, like a gentleman. "I, er, I've only just met you"

*BANG!* She hit me across the face. "You're just like everyone else" she screamed as she hauled herself off me, completely missing the fact that most every single one of the guys I know would have said they loved her, boned her then never seen her again. By this point, I was genuinely happy that I had somehow wriggled out of what was shaping up to be my second marriage after only an hour and didn't mind the fact that I heard her violently screwing my other mate in his room about 30 minutes later.

Apparently she hit him so hard with her shoes that he had bruises for two weeks when he said he didn't love her, but at least she had waited til afterwards to ask him :(
(, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 4:15, 5 replies)
little girl, big sushi
i posted this years ago in the 'worst date' thread...

The worst date I've ever been on involved a really cute, really, really petite girl, and a sushi bar. Said girl called me up one evening, and asked if I'd had dinner. I said that I hadn't, and we went out for sushi.
Sushi arrives, we start eating, and I notice that rather than eating one piece all at once--which is the only way I've ever seen people eat sushi--my date is using her chopsticks to turn each piece into mush, and then nibbling on the dime-sized remnants.
I ask if she's ever eaten sushi before and she says no. Well, I say, you should all-at-once-it, like this, and I pick up a piece, and chow it down.
My date then attempts this procedure. Disaster.
She struggles to fit the whole piece in her mouth, and when she finally does, she gags on it, covers her mouth with her napkin, runs to the bathroom, and doesn't come back for at least fifteen minutes.
She sat back down and apologized, saying how embarassed she was, and that she couldn't believe she couldn't fit a non-mushed piece of sushi in her mouth all at once.
I assured her that it wasn't a big deal, even though I did spend the rest of the date shamelessly wondering how embarassed I'd be if we'd discovered this particular uniqueness of hers under more intimate circumstances.
(, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 4:06, 1 reply)
Top chat up line!
Sent by a friend of mine to a woman who had been texting my other mate, who had foolishly left his phone sitting on the table while having a wazz:

"Hiya hen! How do you fancy playing the window game? It's easy! You be the window and I'll hang out you."

Success unknown, she never replied in the following three hours, though.
(, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 3:16, Reply)
I'm not the suavest cat in town when it comes to the ladies,
but add my mates into the mix, and my chances go from small to none. One seems to constantly try to convince me no-one's interested, another seems to have an urgent compunction to attempt to knob any female in range, a craving which is magnified by about a million if I show the slightest interest in the lady in question. I love them dearly, but they can be unbearable shits at times. Not so my best mate, however. He has, for as long as I've been single, made a genuine effort to help me with the ladies.... in fact, for a good while, he was more interested in getting me a woman than I was. There are only two problems with this, however....... one, while we all need a wingman occasionally, you have to fly your own plane, and two, he's about as subtle as a pit bull after some sausages. This is seemingly a trait shared by his mum an dad too, unfortunately. If he is my wingman, he flies a lancaster bomber.

When his mum said she knew someone perfect for me, I immediately dug my heels in. They somehow managed to arrange a meeting though and I was pleasantly surprised! Not only was she very pretty, she also seemed nice. A shame, then, that any chance of me actually having a conversation with her was overshadowed by them sitting staring at us, and occasionally (and hilariously, I might add) pointing out the obvious awkwardness of the situation. I basically got backed into a corner and made to feel a proper tit, as I'm pretty sure she did too. They were only trying to help, mind, but it....... well, it didn't.

She came to my mate's party about a month later, and I thought maybe this would be a chance to get to know her better and perhaps let her see I wasn't the arse I'd been made out to be. After a while (and a few courage potions) I went over and said hello. We had a bit of a chat and things were going OK...... until in steams my mate to "help". What followed was about 30 minutes of him bluntly asking her what she thought of me with me sitting right there and her looking twice as embarrassed as before. He eventually turned to me and said "Tell me you wouldn't like to wake up next to that in the morning!" Every time I tried speaking to her after that he or someone else was there murmuring "get in there" and giggling like an idiot, completely missing the fact they were embarrassing the hell out of the poor girl, and me too, for that matter. I eventually felt such a twat that I wandered off, but my tacketty booted mate kept on at her in my absence until my other mate arrived and started trying to 'get in about her' himself. At least he failed. That's one thing.

She sent me a text a few days later to let me know her number, but I suspect my pal, or his mum, had "persuaded" her to, as she had that kind of "Everything is fine there is no-one behind the door with a gun making me say this" kind of air about her.

This was all years ago, though, back when I pretty much wanted to stay as far from the "fairer" *pfffft* sex as possible. I think he thought he was being cruel to be kind. He's much better these days though, and I think he's worked out that trying his hardest to make me look as much of a twat as possible probably doesn't help, in the long run.... not since primary school, at least.
(, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 3:09, Reply)
Not my method
But a man who is very successful with the ladies has gives the following advice.

When chatting up a girl you need to capture the following with in the first 15 seconds,

1) attention
2) dialogue
3) flattery

A typical night club chat up from him goes;

Him: (in a half mumble so she can't quite hear) - you look fat in those pants
Her: what?
Him: (clearly)would you like to dance
Her: Oh, I thought you said I looked fat in these pants
Him: Why would I say that? You're hot! Not fat!
Her: ~swoon, remove knickers~

He says it works best on slightly fat chicks.

He also says, A jokes a joke, A pokes a poke but, no poke is no joke

Hmmmmmm, maybe his success stems from his lack of fussiness.
(, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 2:19, Reply)
Problem - need answers from B3tards
A friend of mine has fallen in love with her flatmate who only sees her as a friend. What should she do?
(, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 1:06, 19 replies)
Athletic, attractive blonde flatmate
comes downstairs a few minutes ago and asks my advice. It seems she doesn't know how to write a text to a guy suggesting they have casual sex but leaving herself an alternative explanation so she doesn't feel embarrassed if he says no.

Blew my freakin' mind.
(, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 23:14, 6 replies)
Once when still at the age when girls were somewhat of an oddity I asked one out on a dare, thinking she would say no. I was horrified to hear the word yes! I had to run away and think of a way to let her down kindly. That is one definate way to get a hard earned fear of asking people out.
(, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 22:50, Reply)
Valentines Card
The classic lovesick teenager move. I had a monumental crush on a guy in my German class in year 9 (so... age 13/14). At my school, you took French as standard, then in year 9 if you were deemed particularly gifted at languages, you had the option of taking German as well, and your language classes would be half and half. This guy was a New Zealander and had moved to the UK that year, and was in the class as he had only every studied German, so he got to sit the French half of the class out. I've always been a bit of a sucker for a kiwi accent, plus he had a gorgeous smile, a slight tan and highlights in his hair a la Grant Nicholas from Feeder (who I also had a monumental crush on at the time). He sat next to me, and apart from forced German dialogue, never spoke a word to him. The only thing I knew about him was that he was a Britney Spears fan, as his planner was plastered in pictures of her and descriptions of what he would like to do to her. This really should have been an indicator that we weren't going to be compatible, but oh well. Pretty much every girl he's dated since has been a blonde, slim, tanned, Britney-a-like, and let's face it, I'm not.

I decided to make my move on Valentines Day. I've always been of an artistic bent, so I spent every evening of the week beforehand lovingly sketching and shading a cartoony pic of us in a tender embrace, and inside, in my bestest best handwriting, transcribed the lyrics to The Beatles' "I Wanna Hold Your Hand"... in German. This was because our teacher had played us a recording of this a couple of week's previously, and as I'd only ever spoken to him in German, I figured it would work. I formulated my plan carefully - being a teenager, of course, this involved my friend giving it to him. The classroom was organised in a ring of tables, and there would always be a bit where every other person in the room would move one space clockwise, so you'd have a new partner to practice with, and this was repeated until you got back to your original seat. My friend was sat a few spaces to the right and would be his partner at some point suring this process, so I gave her the card with strict instructions to pass it to him without a word or any expression at all. And not to tell anyone else, of course. She was fantastic and kept her word, and the exchange was made. My heart fluttered as he made his way back to his seat.

Nothing. Nothing happened. I heard a few weeks later that he had given the card to his sister to tear up as he felt bad about doing it himself (?!).

Looking back, I now realise that probably; a) he didn't understand a word of the card (he wasn't the brightest crayon in the box) and b) he may well have thought the card was from my mate, as in cartoon form we looked pretty similar. Except I had a bigger rack.
(, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 21:34, 2 replies)
Lets not turn this rape into a murder.

(, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 21:32, 2 replies)
I once asked a girl out using a flowchart.
You'll need Excel, but you can view it here. I'm still quite proud of it.

(, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 20:11, 8 replies)
My first time....
...asking someone out, and posting. I hope that this goes better than that did.

I have never been good with the fairer sex. Ever. So when my older brother's best mate corners me one night and tells me that a young lady is hot for me, my ears naturally perk up. "Really?" I ask. "yep, defo!". And like that, I'm away. Well, stumbling off, turning over killer lines in my woefully trusting mind.

Next evening, sitting in a big circle of chairs in our yacht club (yes, I'm a bit posh). I plonk myself on the low radiator than runs round the edge and start to scoot, ever so slowly, along it. Gradually, with all the grace and skill of a blind badger on E, I approach my prey. Eventually, I am lurking behind her. All eyes are on me (of course they are, I'm looking a bit rapey, even for a 13-year old). I lean forward, and, in sight of my entire peer group, utter the immortal words "even though you support Liverpool, will you go out with me?"

And I run. Quite literally get up and peg it. Outside, down the steps, onto my bike and away. Not because she took it badly, oh no, she hadn't the time. I just ran. To this day I don't know why (I should probably add that I'm not an Everton fan or anything. In fact I have very little interest in football whatsoever). The most cringe-worthy thing, looking back, is how proud I was on that ride home. I felt like the king of the world. How could she resist my knicker-drenching charm?

Quite easily actually. My bro's friend had made the whole thing up. I am still friends with the chick in question, but it's always been a bit wierd.

On the plus side, he was revealed for the twunt he was. Crowning moment was when he took a fully loaded-up spinnaker-pole to the face (totally his own fault) and ended up puncturing his cheek with his own teeth. Noone helped, we all laughed. Except one person.

I pointed. And then laughed.
(, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 19:31, 3 replies)
Alcohol seems to be a common thread...
Me and all my drinking buddies went all out one evening and decided to splurge on ridiculously expensive booze. Being young and poor, this was an extremely exciting event. After pretentiously tasting each bottle, we decided it was a good time to go out and belt out the entirety of Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody in public.

As we were drunkenly stumbling back home, I found myself alone with one guy I didn't know very well. However, he seemed intent on knowing me very, very well. On the way, he uttered two lines that I will never forget as long as I live:

"You're so pretty and delicate... you remind me of my cousin."

"Your... what?"

"My cousin... You look just like her."

If slightly eerie incestuous comments weren't enough, he added the icing on the cake:

"Would you give me... consent?"

Gentlemen, please, please do not ask to sleep with a girl in the context of not raping her. She won't like it at all.
(, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 19:26, 2 replies)
I'd just like to add...
..the fact that regular masturbation removes the desire for, and thus the embarrassing failure relating to, chatting people up.
(, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 18:55, 8 replies)
Lewis living near Lewes
When I was living in the UK I lived in Brighton which is pretty much next to Lewes, in East Sussex. I really, really wanted to walk up to a girl and say "I see you know your way around Brighton, how about the tour of Lewis?" (/Lewes)

Can't say I ever had the balls to try it though!

Embarrassing failures? There was the girl who worked at the local subway who was a bit of a looker (in fact she was fit as fuck, maybe a couple of years younger than me but we seemed to have a thing going so worth a punt). She even drew a little heart on the sandwich she made me once 'so I knew which one was mine' (it was actually the one I'd just ordered for me mum but I let that one slide) - not exactly her humping my leg and might sound as pathetic as it I think it looks now I've typed it, but surely that's gotta mean something?

So, I decide to be all gentlemanly about it - I'm not going to storm in there and ask her out in front of other customers and embarrass her - I wait until one day I go in there (which involved me buying quite a few sprites) and she's alone. This day soon comes and I say to her 'hey, what you up to tonight?' 'Why?' she asks, 'Oh, cos the fair's come in to town and I was gonna go down with some mates and wondered if you'd want to come?'

So now the rude cow starts laughing in my face! She does actually double over at one point and manages to stifle out a 'no, I'm good' before I humbly mumble an 'oh, ok then never mind' and bolt out the door with my now bitter tasting beverage.

Seriously though, what the fuck?! I'm under the impression that it may be because she was a bit younger (looks about 19 I reckon) and she's still in the 'fair's for kids' mindset, where my 23 year old brain is going 'I used to think the fair was for kids but now I love it, it's like when I was younger'!

Apologies for the rant and lack of funnies (seems to be the said thing on here, this being only my second post), but ladies - if a man asks you out please don't laugh in their face! As much as I went 'well at least she didn't say yes and I know she's a bitch from the get go' that shit was still humiliating even if it was the two of us! :)
(, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 18:20, 5 replies)
Why my dear that's a nice top you have on...
...it'd look even better on my bedroom floor.
(, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 18:08, Reply)
Its a matter of timing
Fellas, you have a much higher success rate of chatting a woman up if she is ovulating.
Although how you find that out may need some subtle work.

What chat up lines would you try?
(, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 17:54, 22 replies)
"Hello, I'm Dave"
That was enough to get me laid in York, but told to fuck off in Southend.
(, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 17:45, 2 replies)
I love you!
Spring is in the air, flowers are blooming, the wind is mild and the gloomy winter is but a memory. Being 17 the main difference from winter to spring, is that hangovers are somewhat disturbed by evil rays of light, shining earlier than the human body of a teenager is comfortable with.

Luckily drapes are invented and my good friend and I were slowly gathering our strength, as the Saturday grew in presence and demanded that we sooner or later went out for more alcohol. Picture us cuddling on a couch in a dark room, our faces lit by the TV screen powered by the content of VHS cassettes. She was a very good friend, and our mutual sexual attraction was limited enough for us to stay friends. I lived out of town and often stayed at her place Friday and Saturday - or her parents place actually. The other options were to find a girl to sleep with, catch the last train at midnight or walk four hours to reach home. Finding a girl would have been nice, but was as likely as finding an honest investment banker. Catching the train often seemed like a good idea in hindsight and memories of walking on the tracks still haunt me.

Our taste in movies was not exactly aligned. I liked Bad Taste and she liked Dirty Dancing. Being to weak to resist I reluctantly accepted that she put on a VHS with her fathers footage of "National Gymnastic Gathering", or whatever is what called. Thousands of girls and boys meeting annually for the purpose of jumping. She had done well, and wanted to show me a sequence or two leading up to her getting a medal. I drifted in and out of sleep for the first hour, and all of a sudden my life changed. Who was that? A drop dead beautiful girl was running and jumping and doing her best to harden me. A sexy goddess.

"That is Victoria", my friend said. And gave me some details - she was in our school as it turned out, one year younger, bit of upper class, very good at gymnastics. In my mind she was already very good at gymnastics. Having known her for almost 10 minutes I felt it was time to act. I borrowed the phone, called around a bit and found out she would be on a certain bar tonight. I went home, showered and wanked and found my best shirt. Called some more friends and arranged for us to be at the bar.

At the bar everything went as planned, except off course Victoria did not show up. Feeling that it was her or nobody, I had no problems in asking some of the other girls to dance - because I did not care, they immediately felt attracted or at least not afraid of dancing with me. I danced a lot and had a pretty good time. Actually I probably danced with more girls that night, than I had danced with my entire life. Suddenly as I turned around, my new found Goddess beamed at me. I have no recollection whatsoever of what was said or done. She said goodbye, and I found my train.

I knew what to do.

I knocked on her parents door at 10am and asked if she could come out. "Thor" ? She said, tasting a little bit on the name - "we danced last night?" I nodded, although I could not remember dancing. "Do you fancy going for a walk?", I said, adding that I was in the neighbourhood for a morning walk in the beautiful spring weather. She nodded. Some people would probably have resorted to well known stalker-avoiding techniques, such as asking how I knew where she lived. Or why the hell I knocked on her door.

We walked. It was indeed a beautiful day. We stopped on a hill, overlooking the ocean. It was a beautiful spot - trees around us and a large opening that formed a window to the ocean. The sun was smiling, birds were singing and the wind was gently caressing us. I looked at her and took her hands. She smiled and looked kissable. In my mind I kissed her, and she me kissed back. I looked her straight into the eyes. I had to say something. Or kiss her. Speaking seemed less scary.

"I love you!"


You know the kind of comfortable silence that exist between couples who know each other well? When they are sitting on the couch, possibly reading, perhaps just sitting. A comfortable silence between soul mates.

It was not that kind of silence.

We were both frightened by the inappropriateness of the sentence. 24 hours ago she knew nothing about me and just this morning she had struggled remembering my name. I on the other hand, had known her for exactly 24 hours.

It was a long and silent walk home. It was also a long week. The words rebounded on the inner walls of my skull, and cold & hot waves of embarrassment washed through me. Next Saturday I pulled myself together and thought what the hell - might as well go down with style. I knocked on her door again. Her parents went and got her. I asked if she would go for a walk, we could go "somewhere else". She understood and she nodded. The three little words were not uttered for the next year, and the episode was not mentioned for three years - but we ended up having a great relationship lasting 6 years.

And yes, the VHS was telling the truth, she was a Gymnast Goddess.
(, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 17:03, 4 replies)
Several years ago...
"Do you have any Australian in you?"
"Do you want some?"

Worked for me.

Length? It's the girth you should worry about.
(, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 16:21, 4 replies)
Just over three years ago towards the end of a rather fun filled if not entirely healthy 8 months of consolation after a break-up I was advised by a colleague, if the letch could be called such, that the best way to find myself a lady-friend is the internet. A concept I was comfortable with… for I had seen several ladies on the internet.
He didn't really do much work and certainly had managed to collect an impressive number of photographs of women on his phone; most of these had forgotten the larger sum of their clothing. That is, he'd convinced me.
I looked through a list on what was once a popular networking site, even seeing a few that were vaguely familiar from others friend lists, finally settling on one.

Long story short, after much typing in which I was impressed that she could read my longer words AND lacked the beard I expected from the result of such internet liaisons, we agreed to meet. She even seemed keen that our first meeting be at a local hotel so I can only suppose my well crafted wooing was working well.

Getting off the train and seeing a little gothic looking creature with seemingly all the right bits in all the right places was a result. Less so was the inability to spend 10 minutes vetting what should be a 20 second sentence to make sure one comes across as one intended.

There are many subjects that can be covered without causing offence. These we covered, but unfortunately they are also not very interesting. I cannot remember how it came up, maybe a comparison on our relative heights, the sizes of buckles on both of our impressively metal-laden shoes or what, but the subject turned to weight...

Now whilst women like to be complimented on their lack of excess body fat, and most enjoy the witty banter of the verbose gentleman, it is important that one get them very drunk before telling them they have the BMI of an adolescent Chimpanzee.
Thankfully I had and received laughter or would presently live by myself.
(, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 15:16, Reply)
Dirty Knickers
At the beginning of our final year at uni, my best mate and I moved into a flat on the outskirts of the city. The flat – on the top floor of a dodgy tenement building, which has now been torn down - was a cheap rental, used by different groups of people every year. It was pretty nasty, to be honest – no lights in the communal hallway, used syringes littering the floor of the basement – but it was, as I’ve said, dirt-cheap, and was, as a result, favoured by hard-up students who preferred to spend their cash on more alcoholic diversions.

We’d been moved in for about a week before I’d amassed enough laundry to warrant opening the washing-machine ... When I did, I was greeted by the sight of 8 or 9 pairs of skimpy girl’s knickers, all of which looked like they’d been worn at an after-show party for Ron Jeremy’s retirement. Every kind of stain was present, from standard piss-yellow, through monthly-red, right up to crusty semen-leakage white ... I was single and horny, so I’m ashamed to say I inspected these items in rather TOO much detail ...

Our moving-in party was a rather sordid affair, with much drunkenness and vodka jelly-induced vomiting. I was more sober than most, which is when I was approached by a rather fetching young thing who promptly sat down on my knee and initiated a startlingly-interesting conversation. I turned out that this girl was a nurse (aside: niiiice!) who had lived in this flat the year before. She now lived on the ground floor, which is how she’d been invited (by my mate) to our shindig. We talked and flirted shamelessly, but nothing happened that night.

It didn’t occur to me until much later (the next day, in fact) that the dirty knickers from the washer would have belonged to this girl. When I did realise this, my hormones went into 100% overdrive – the thought of this randy, clearly filthy girl, just one floor down from my bedroom ... I resolved to get my hands on the pair of dirty pants this girl was currently wearing as soon as possible.

My plan – while moronic on reflection – seemed like a dead-set winner at the time, which is how I found myself, after much beer and little deliberation, standing in the darkened hallway outside her front door holding her bunched-up used panties in front of me. She opened the door:

“If you’re as filthy as these knickers, then I think I might be in luck” ...

Now, as I’ve said, there wasn’t much light in the hallways in this apartment. In fact, there was no light at all really, especially if you were on the inside looking out. I hadn’t thought this through, clearly, as when this girl opened her door, all she saw was a shadowy figure, shrouded in girl’s knickers, uttering obsenities in a deep, threatening - slightly inebriated – manner. The door was duly slammed and I was left alone in a dingy, drafty hall, with only the feel of her silk underthings to keep me company, along with the fading scent of crusted femininity drifting from each tainted gusset ...

*We did hook up later that week and spent a goodly month in each other’s bedrooms… It turns out she was slightly more prudish than her panties suggested, but did manage to leave a new (not so fresh) pair for me to enjoy almost every evening! I blame her for my current fetish tbh ...
(, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 15:10, 2 replies)
Behaving badly.
When I was a youngster, the sit-com "Men Behaving Badly" released a companion book entitled "The A-Z of Behaving Badly" which I was lucky enough to recieve one christmas. The chatup lines section featured one gem:

"Hello, I'm blind. Can I get to know you better by rhymically kneeding your breasts?"

I have yet to drum up the courage try it, but would be interested to hear the results!
(, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 15:01, 2 replies)

This question is now closed.

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