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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.

At a crowded gig...
Me - "I bet you £20 you turn me down"

Her - "No I haven't got downs, piss off"
(, Thu 17 Dec 2009, 11:55, Reply)
(, Thu 17 Dec 2009, 11:38, Reply)
What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this..?
Early November last year I was sectioned and admitted into an adolescent psychiatric hospital. To put it fairly bluntly and not reveal too much, I'm not just a few sandwiches short, I've forgotten the hamper and the picnic can frankly be buggered for all I care, I have elephants to ride and a country to rule I'll have you know.

Anyway, I was wrenched out of my natural environment in a suicidal state (thanks in part to the ex, daughter of Satan that at 5'5" terrified my hulking form with her moodswings) and manhandled by the oink into a nice little semi-secure unit somewhere in Greater Manchester via a hospital waiting room (approx 15 hours, no bed, one room about 6 paces by 5, a plastic chair for comfort and two coppers outside the door, yours for just the small one-time payment of your sanity!) and a secure shithole overnight - for being unable to move my arms and therefore jumped on by four coppers (2525, I know you're out there somewhere and I will never forget your collar dog you scumbag cunt - IPCC are shit, mob justice isn't, wall revolution etc).

Life goes on, I make a few friends in my new home and begin to fall into the routine of things - there was even a school, which was handy to allay boredom but fairly irritating as it was compulsory (at 17). My observation order (section 2) ran its 28-day course and I decided to stay as an in-patient to work out what the deal with my head was - at some point anyway, I distracted my psychs when they asked questions, maintained a facade of bubbly happiness and carried on keeping everything all bottled up. It got to mid-January, as my growing tendency towards misogyny began to gather steam, when I met K.

I remember sitting in the lounge in the afternoon next to my mate D (an old hand at this lark and a jolly decent young chap) and seeing K for the first time. A vision of radiance in a baggy hoody. I told D that he could fuck right off or he could help me, his choice. She'd been admitted a few hours beforehand, knew no-one and was looking rather sheepish. I smiled at her and she smiled back, albeit whilst looking for the nearest exit. I pointed at Token Mentalist from my answer here and made a wanker sign on the sly as a heads-up. K then took this as me just being generally horrible and abusive and gave me a filthy look, until my knight in shining armour D having seen all this shouted across the room "NO REALLY, SHE'S A PROPER CUNT!"

His way with words salvaged the moment - she laughed and we all continued to chat; I was infatuated, and probably made a bit of a prick of myself, the exact topics of conversation now escape me. We were allowed mobile phones without a camera, and so D swiftly (at my unspoken request... a simple shift of the eyebrow was all at took) got her number as a "giz a text if you need anything"... which I then robbed off his phone, "for, y'know, just in case like."

That evening, after lights out, I was texting K for what seemed like hours. We arranged that she would come to my room in the morning (strictly Not Allowed, regardless of gender of occupants, however I neglected to mention this) for general chatting and to give me a chance to show off my muscular form (read: emaciated, 11 stone, 6 foot 8 wreck... actually probably closer to 12st by this point) in just a pair of pyjama bottoms...

Suitably impressed by the next morning's display, we were practically inseparable until I left the unit in April. We have now been together almost 12 months (both discharged for the last 6), are gradually recovering together (with a few hiccups), have never argued once, and are madly hopelessly in love with each other. I always say the sanest girl I've ever met was in a psych ward. Just shows how something good can come from such a shit situation.

There's a lot more to the story than this (you'd be surprised what you can get up to with a mischievous mind in hospital) that'll possibly be posted in future QOTWs - one week in that place is seriously a lifetime of the answers, I've got six months under my belt.

How does this relate? I've never explicitly asked her out. Technically we're just really good friends.

Sorry, no pun, and the doctor won't prescribe me any length jokes.

PS It's late, I apologise for any grammar/ spelling mistakes.
(, Thu 17 Dec 2009, 8:47, 6 replies)
Natalie Wilson...My biggest failure
I have been unlucky enough to go right through school, university (twice) and to my current age of 25 having depressingly kissed only one (1) person in all of that time (even missing out on the play ones everybody did in the cloakrooms at the end of primary school). I say unlucky here because I have been told that I'm not bad-looking and I get on with nearly everybody I meet...so lack of luck must be to blame.
The pinnacle of this unluckyness, however, was entirely of my own making. You know the way it goes...person spends years hoping, praying and failing miserably until fate hands them exactly what they were dreaming of...and they promptly piss it all up against a wall.

I did this spectacularly with Natalie. Natalie was quite simply gorgeous - there is no other word to describe her. She was three years younger than me at the time (I was 16...she obviously 13) and the kind of girl with the kind of looks, body and personality to make your jaw drop and your tongue to roll out a la Looney Tunes. She got on the same school coach as me and barely noticed I existed for the first few months. Then, she started to come and sit next to me at the front when the seat next to me was free. We'd talk about nothing special in particular, then she'd go back to collect her things just before her stop.
One day, she stayed on until the last stop...mine...with everybody else who got off there as well. I didn't even know she was still on...until she came to the front, minutes before the stop...and asked me out in front of the whole of the remaining assembled passengers.
What did I say? No. *No** What can I say...I was terrified! She was so upset...had planned to do it for ages apparently.
Goodness knows what would have happened...but I'd have been happy I know it. Typical...fucksocks :(
(, Thu 17 Dec 2009, 7:48, 7 replies)
the secret of my success?
First, find old flame from school on facebook (who you really *really* fancied but lost touch over time through moving around the world).

Second, discover she is a fab person, completely compatible, highly intelligent, mortgage-less home owner and a trainee solicitor (very handy). Also discover that time has been kind and she still looks stonking. Imagine a gorgeous blonde Scandinavian 20 something (for that is where she comes from), with ample *ahem* assets.

Third, woo via MSN and phone conversations from 5000 miles away in sunny california, running up extortionate mobile phone bills in the process.

Fourth, hold transatlantic 'long distance relationship' with frequent, sex fuelled holidays together. Previously unheard of levels of sexual compatibility are apparent, with the added bonus of seeing some really cool places in the world.

Fifth, realise you are head over heels in love, pack in your job, give up the constant sunshine, move home to recession riddled UK and propose

Its one year together next week, and were getting married in july. I love her to bits. Theres more to life than just sunshine every day.
(, Thu 17 Dec 2009, 5:21, 5 replies)
A Few Disparate Tales
My most succesful: (Mid-conversation) "I'm just going to seduce Murray now, if you don't mind." We were together for about six months.

Least successful: "Do you want to go out with me?" "No." "Oh, go on. Just think about it for a while?" "Okay, I will."
Needless to say, we didn't get together. I was 13 at the time, if it counts.

My current beau asked me out for a meal by claiming that "The Outsider has some really good 2-for-1 offers."
I'm smitten. So it seems that the best way to win a girl's affections is to invite her for a cheap meal.
(, Thu 17 Dec 2009, 0:53, Reply)
Every failure is still a great anecdote...
So I'm sitting in a bar with a girl from work, all the other work people have drunkenly ambled off home and there's just me, her and a mate of mine at a nearby table waiting patiently so we can go see a band.
"Anyway," says I, "I must be going. Actually it was great to finally chat with you outside work though... in fact would you like to come out to dinner with me tonight?"
"Oh God no!" she says and cracks up laughing.
The aforementioned mate was texting the story to everyone we were catching up with before she could even finish her drink.
By the time she left, he'd congratulated her on giving him such a wonderful moment (while still wiping the tears of joy off his face) and had half the bar shouting "Oh God no!" at everything I said.
(, Thu 17 Dec 2009, 0:48, 3 replies)
Girl I know, quite a forward young lady, bit of a ladette actually but great fun
Was having a few beers with us one night when she decided she quite fancied this mate of ours who she'd not met before.
"Watch this," she said. I can point straight to your nipples even though you're wearing a shirt and jumper."
She waves her hands around, then pointing with two fingers, poked him straight on the chest, approximately where the nips would have been.
"Ha!" he says, right on one, wrong on the other!"
"Ok! But it's pretty tough" she says, "you try me."
And later that night he did.
(, Thu 17 Dec 2009, 0:38, Reply)
underhand notes, money changing hands and taxis
rented a car parking space to our neighbours; when they first gave us ze monies i got a letter telling me their daughter thought i was cute and giving me her number.. £30 and a date eh, touch!!!

if she'd of known.
she didn't and it freaked her right out.. ah well we're still together 8 months later and she hid this from her mum for half of that as punishment ;)
(, Thu 17 Dec 2009, 0:35, 4 replies)
My first pearoast!!! I love telling this story.
Years ago I was sitting in a pub with my mate Derek, we were playing a game whereby you shake all your change up, then stack it and try to guess whether the next one down is heads or tails. If you're right, you keep the coin and go again... and so on until the stack is done.
Whoever has the most coins wins and the loser has to buy the round of drinks.
As we were playing, Derek noticed a rather fetching girl watching.
"Hello," he said.
"Hello," she replied, "what are you doing?"
"We're playing a game whereby you shake all your change up, then stack it and try to guess whether the next one down is heads or tails," he replied.
"If you're right, you keep the coin and go again... and so on until the stack is done. Whoever has the most coins wins and the loser has to buy the round of drinks."
"That sounds like fun," she said.
"Do you wanna go?" he asked.
"Um.. OK," she said, picking up her bag and jacket and walking to the door.
Derek sat there for about five seconds before he realised she'd heard "do you want to go" instead of "do you want a go".
He shrugged, drained his beer, then walked out the door with her.
And yes, apparently she was an excellent shag.
He STILL has no explanation for this utterly random act of good fortune.
(, Thu 17 Dec 2009, 0:33, 2 replies)
Fancied a girl for ages...
Hadnt seen her for a while, bumped into her on Saturday night and we kissed... Awesome.
Hangover Sunday, texted her Yesterday, she's kinda seeing someone else.
Gutted. =(
(, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 22:58, 1 reply)
OK, lemme throw this into the forum
Back when my girlfriend was living with a female flatmate, I would regularly go and visit my g/f. This particular night, all three of us had been drinking cider and got quite drunk. The girlfriend realised that she was pissed as a fart, and needed to sleep, but Jackass was on the telly. She said, "just stay up and watch it, you're enjoying yourself."

Well this left me and the flatmate Lisa watching the telly, sat on separate sofas. Lisa then chooses this moment to decide now that the cider has run out, we must now switch to Absynthe... on the sole condition we finish the (still sealed 70cl) bottle.

As we started watching Jacakass, Lisa then started saying "You look like Bam Margera, you really do." A couple of shots of Absynthe later, she pops off to the loo, comes back and sits on the sofa next to me. Fair enough, it is her flat, and my sofa was better for watching the telly on anyways...

Then she started kissing my cheek saying "You don't have to if you don't want to..." My girlfriend was drunk asleep in the room across the hallway, and here's Lisa wanting me to do the dirty deed with her! Lisa was an attractive young woman for sure, but I'm not a bastard!

So how do I get out of this without hurting her feelings... fuck what can I do... I'm racking my brains about how to get out of this when an opportunity avails itself... the mixture of cider and slamming a couple of shots of Absynthe is having a violent effect on the stomach.

So off I go to the toilet, where I purge, and then end up falling asleep in front of it.

That got me out of that sticky situation... but the male part inside of me still kicks me for not availing myself of a free shag!
(, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 22:57, Reply)
Twice in my life....
I've been propositioned with the line, "Lets just go home and fuck?". Once in Las Vegas with this girl who as it turned out still had the stitches in from her boob job a few days previous. The second time I ended up back at the girls her house and stayed for 3 days which included a Monday sicky.
(, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 22:38, 1 reply)
Swedish chef
Mrs Wobbler is from Sweden and well as a result I can speak a little Swedish, it relevant.. Mrs Wobbler went off to Sweden with the kids for a 7 weeks over the summer while I was left to live the life of a single man with my mates. Q a trip to Norwich to see my mate who defected from the south to be with the carrot munchers. Kings Lynn was the base and we met up with his new found mates for a night on the town in the Norwich (a journey best not taken while needing a pee, I can tell you.
Anyway we get there and his new mate informs me his chat up line which never fails is "Hello I am from Sweden how are you today". My ears prick up and I ask more, he claimed that they never question him and accept he is from Sweden and if they ask him to say somthing he makes up a line from the muppets. So out and about and after a few pints he blurts out this line to a girl, we are in Norwich full of women, which was a big suprise, and he picks on the only Swedish girl in the city. She speaks to him in Swedish, he is purplex, she then says "You picked the wrong girl to be a twat with." Seeing his stunned silence I butt in and ask her somthing about her twat (in Swedish) which then leads to my mates mate gasp in asstonish ment and this girl look at me like I shouldn't be there. She would have been putty in my hand but for the wife & kids so I told her all my mates were twats and as a result she laughed and took the piss out of them for the remainder of that bar. I was hailed a legend and the gimp who used the line a leg end.
Lesson to be learnt there. Learn a language, as it might get you laid. I struggle with English women as I can't really speak English while drunk or typing
(, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 19:37, 4 replies)
The joys of Ingoldmells at 15....
I've never been very good talking to girls but always done reasonably well. This is due to the power I possess once I get blind drunk. I seriously wish I recorded what I said to them as come the next day I had no recollection at all and this stuff must have been verbal gold!

Away on a family holiday with my friend in tow, we were afforded the courtesy of being allowed to go off drinking alone with the family. We sat in a bar eyeing up some older ladies (probably around 18). He went off to the toilet and I joked that i'd go over and talk to them.

No sooner had he wondered off, this group of 4 hot older girls came over and sat with me, much to my surprise. The look on his face when he came back was priceless!

Needless to say I pulled the hottest one that night and was extremely pleased with myself. I have no idea what I said to them, again the beauty of my drunken patter. She was at least a foot taller and we must have looked ridiculous together.

Met up with the same group of girls later that week and this girls friend made a play for me, I was more than game.

Just a shame that my 15 year old stomach couldn't quiet handle the drink and I was pretty much sick everywhere while she watched. Might have put her off slightly, needless to say nothing happened that night.

Still successful holiday!
(, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 16:09, 3 replies)
I need help with this one, as I can't work it out.
I was, as so many of my stories begin, in the pub on friday night when a few of my mates came in, along with a guy and a girl I didn't know. Maybe it was the beer, but the first thing I saw was this tremendous pair of blue eyes, but it seemed obvious she was with the new guy so I kept my distance (as if I'd have been much more forward otherwise, really). We had a few game of snooker and a few pints and as so often happens, ended up back at my friend's house having a party. I was having one of those drunken discussions with the guy I didn't know and soon somehow managed to sniff out that they weren't an item, and before I knew it found myself chatting to this girl with the fantastic eyes in the kitchen. She asked if I wanted a beer, and when she took the lid off with her teeth I felt a tingling that I haven't felt for a while.

Anyway. It has been said in the past that I can be quite amusing while drunk, but despite this I am still mostly useless with the ladies, and so we chatted and she laughed but I still didn't make any sort of move. Then, she turned to me while talking to the others in the living room and said "What's your number?"

I think I probably mumbled a bit as I struggled for my phone, explaining that I didn't know my number but I had it stored, and she watched for a few seconds as I rifled through my address book. Then came the curve ball.

"I didn't mean your phone number".

I've been trying to work it out for 5 days now. I think I said something like "Oh. Erm, 17 then" and she laughed. The only thing I can possibly think is that it may have been a drunken attempt to ascertain my age, as I look about 10 years younger than I actually am. Apart from that, I'm stumped. And a bit cheesed off, she was lovely.
(, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 16:04, 20 replies)
My one success story
Right, after the complete failure of my last story I swore off men altogether. Fast forward to age 16, I started to pull myself back together, my regular GP came back from his sabbatical and immediately recognised what was wrong as he had known me and my family for years (there's a lot to be said for a GP who actually knows you - since moving I've not seen the same GP twice at my new surgery and I'm distinctly unimpressed), went on anti-depressants and shed the weight I'd put on, and then some (a bit too much, in retrospect). I started coming back into school part time with the help of my remaining friends, and although it was too late for me to stand a chance of even passing most of my exams, let alone get the straight A's I'd been predicted, I'd kept up with my Art coursework while I was off as the painting was therapeutic, so I managed to sit that exam and pass. I started going out to gigs occasionally, and had met a whole bunch of great new people who didn't know my history so I could start off with a fresh slate (that is, apart from the rumours that had gone round that I'd been off because I was pregnant - fortunately none of them had believed it, as I was such a blatant virgin, and were good enough never to mention it to me). One of the gigs I went to was a band of guys in my year called Sanity Departed. I got chatting to the drummer afterwards about, well, drumming, and we became friends.

I went to our school leavers ball alone. I'd asked a couple of male friends to escort me just so I didn't look like a complete loser, but they had already made similar arrangements with other friends, so I bit the bullet and turned up alone, in my mum's Ford Fiesta. Exotic, eh? I spent half the evening queuing for my official photo (again, alone - I'd been due to be in a couple of group shots but the photographer decided there were too many people, and I got chucked out of both - let down by my friends there!), so I ended up being last on the list. I somehow ended up seated opposite L, the tosser from my last story, at the meal, and he spent the rest of the evening trying to throw balls of tissue paper down the front of my dress. I rose above it and decided not to make a scene, so I buggered off to dance with my mates. During the course of the evening, I scored an invite to the aforementioned drummer friend's after-ball party back at his house. I persuaded my dad to take me after a quick change into t-shirt and jeans (and to pick me up again at about half 3/4 in the morning - to this day I'm still amazed he agreed, but I think he was just pleased to see me socialising again). I'd never been to one before, but his house parties were legendary - his house at the time was just perfectly laid out, there was always plenty of beer, good tunes, and great company. I got a little drunker than I should have, and ended up spending a good deal of the evening trying to suck the drummer's face off. Yep, I had my first kiss that night. It was one of those teenage parties where everyone was snogging everyone (haha, snogging, I've not used that word in years!). I was wearing black lipstick, and by the end of the evening, it was mostly on my chin and a couple of other guys' tongues. Including the bassist in the drummers' band, who is the guy this story is really about. As I recall, I stumbled on top of him as he was lying in the middle of the lounge, we made out, swapped phone numbers, and went on our merry way, thinking nothing of it. He mostly just remembers waking up on the floor with a black tongue. I think it was probably a good calling card!

I had zero regrets about the whole thing, and felt fantastic that people had liked me and found me attractive. I still felt a little too fragile to hook up with anyone on a long term basis, so I didn't make a move on anyone. I actually fancied the drummer a little more at that point, but he actually had a girlfriend in the year below at the time, so that wasn't going anywhere. However, they split up a little while after, and both drummer and bassist worked their way into my inner circle of friends. They were both a great laugh and I liked them both, and it soon became clear that they both liked me a lot more than I thought. They both knew I wasn't ready for anything, so they just kept it friendly, thankfully. After about a month of toeing around the subject (felt like so much longer at the time), I invited them both over for a post-exams party. Well, I invited a few people, but they were the only two that turned up, as there was a rival party going on. And they turned up late and slightly pissed, as they had already been to the other party. As the evening wore on, my attentions turned more towards the bassist. I'm still to this day not quite sure why, guess it was just some sort of animal magnetism, but by the end of the evening I was making out with him on my bed, and drummer boy was sat in the corner, mucking about on my kit as some sort of distraction.

We met up a few more times in town, just the two of us, before making it "official". We were sat on a bench in the park behind the library, our favoured quiet spot, just talking and kissing. I said "so... I guess we're, er, sort of going out now?", to which he replied, "if you want to". I smiled, kissed him again, and just said "yeah".

Fast forward 6 and a half years on, we've not been apart since, have bought a house together and got married in May. Hooray for happy endings! He always insists he was just more persistent in pursuing me than his drummer friend.
(, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 15:29, 4 replies)
Be Prepared
In reflection of our relationship I perhaps wasn't really as close to him as others were but nevertheless within the circle of friends that I had formed he was certainly within its realm. But this isn't about me it's about that crazy Korean fellow I knew - Koun.

He was an great character, what had arrived to our group in the early years of our high school education as an unassuming, somewhat quiet, but obviously intelligent young man, had developed, under our tutelage, into a swearing, rumbustious sort ready to raise a two fingered salute to us all in a Commonwealth cemetery in Belgium if he knew he was being photographed. He was our friend and he had a crush on Trisha.

The chance of a relationship seemed impossible (ah, amore), she was an aspirationally uninteresting yet exceptionally tall (far taller than Koun himself) and visibly endowed lower class lass, shacking up so it was said with a man thrice her weight and slower than dial-up.
Koun, however, was more of a deeply bookish sort, apparently the standard type in South Korea (though whether the ability to get high by the consumption of too much Coca Cola was also commonplace I never found out) which led to him being in a problem all his bookish friends could sympathise with.

But having said that Koun was cool besides, just very insane occasionally and not to mention a little bit careless, which was hardly surprising considering; him taking an adolescent's first tentative steps in life in a somewhat alien environment.

Anyway I remember feeling quite unsure about whether his expressed feelings were honest but they apparently were true, culminating in at least one attempted attempt to win her heart.

He entered the form room one morning with a grin on his face and a box strapped under his arm. No one but our small pact of friends were inside. It was a cold and bitter February 14th, but he glowed in the early sunlight that was promptly blocked by a tall friend as he had turned to look at the new entrant. Then there was then a flood of knowing and curious glances shot at each other at the group, as Koun sat down quietly and without a care at his desk, placing the now visible box of chocolates at his side.

Now we were intrigued the group all knew what this meant, he was about to turn his hard-on into hard action and ask Trisha out.

We all wanted to see the lad brazonly achieve his one aim before leaving for Korea again. Being supportive of his objective, discussion was started with Koun on the question of how. We were jovial and quietly mocking as necessity required, but more importantly we were excited that he'd be able to reach a goal in his life and in some sense we could all take solace in that.

The discussion had ended as all the form came in and eventually register was taken. But before setting off to lessons and the boy ready to set off with his task, one of the group passed Koun the chocolates and looked at him curiously "So is Trisha a diabetic?"


"Those are diabetic chocolates, Koun, didn't you know that?"

"What's a diabetic?" he asked looking quizzically at the box which now we could all see had the words 'Diabetic Chocolates' in a pinkish red.

And with that we all broke down in laughter. Well all accept Koun who now looked at us with a quiet frustrated stare, but once we stopped laughing at his choice of purchase we got it through to him why we were laughing. Now, however, he was a bit more reluctant in offering the now tainted gift to Trisha, even though, as was suggested the very act of giving chocolates was really more important than the lack of glucose. But sadly as a result he decided to reconsider and left the country without making a move.
(, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 15:22, Reply)
Well, as I'm off work sick again today, I may as well share some more
This one's a bit awkward, as the guy in question is now one of mine and my now husband's best mates, and was one of the best men at my wedding back in May. Now, to anyone who knows me it's immediately going to be obvious who I'm referring to, but I'm still going to go down the "refer to by initial only" route, so let's call him L.

He lived opposite my best friend at the time, who we shall call J. They both lived right by our school, whereas I lived over the other side of town. We got talking over the summer between year 9 and 10 (age 14, then). J had been telling me all about L over the previous few months - it was a big school and as he was in the other half of the year group to us, we'd previously had no contact whatsoever. They had only happened to bump into each other walking home and got chatting. As we were going into our GCSE years, our classes were now all mixed up and - RESULT! - he was going to be in my music class. Even better, he was into the same sort of music that I was (yes, we were the much maligned "met'lers!!"), played guitar and was a good few inches taller than me (at that age, most of the blokes at school had yet to experience any sort of growth spurt and were all stuck at about 5ft 4/5, whereas I was already a good 5ft 9). My friend J had shown him a couple of pictures of me and had told her that he thought I was really hot and wanted to get to know me. So, we started meeting up as a group in the town centre, as a nice halfway point, over the summer holidays. All going well, methinks, and he certainly appreciated my tendency at the time to go braless in strappy tops. We're pretty firm friends by the time school comes around.

Now I should take a break to explain a couple of things. I was going through my first bout of clinical depression at the time, which I now suspect was brought on by my dad's cancer diagnosis about a year previously (he's in remission now, thankfully) and my self esteem was at zero, so the thought of someone actually liking me was a big thing. I've always had some pretty bad body image issues as well, due to not being tiny and anorexically thin like all the popular girls (the women of my family have frequently been described as having an "amazonian build". I also hit puberty during middle school - having boobs at that age immediately marked you out as "fat", and having to wear a skirt when my legs were already developing some serious fuzz wasn't really helpful).

L, meantime, was at this point drinking and pumping about every illicit substance he could get his hands on into his body (a fact that it seems everyone who knew him was oblivious to at the time, including me) and had dated pretty much every girl he could in his end of the school year. Which, I guess, is why he moved on to my half of the year, as his reputation was in tatters with his own half.

His birthday was right near the beginning of the school year and I got an invite to his party. He asked me to bring my drum kit along so we could all have a bit of a jam, and a jolly good night was had by all, aided by a couple of crates of those stubby bottles of "Biere des Moulins" French lager from Sainsbury's (our underage drinking beer of choice). Highlights included the girls getting topless (not completely, you understand, bras remained on, but that was quite a thrill at that age. There are some great pics of me drumming away in this state which I must ask him to dig out sometime) and my mate J being dared to streak down the road - which she duly did, then realised looking across the road at her own house that her parents were stood outside having a fag and had just seen the whole thing. What larks.

I think it may well have been the next day that he asked her out. Arse. Obviously she seemed more "up for it" than I did. She told me this over MSN Messenger that evening, I threw my mouse across my room and smashed it against the wardrobe, and didn't speak to either of them for weeks. I also cut myself for the first time - fun fact for you all. I'd already started staying home from school quite a bit by then, starting with the days my dad's checkups were, in order to be around to support him, but as I grew more depressed it became more frequent. I'd started piling on weight and was having lots of blood tests, as no-one could figure out what was wrong with me. Everyone figured it was some sort of thyroid problem or a form of diabetes, but the tests always came back negative. After this I practically stopped going altogether as I couldn't face seeing them. Lo and behold, he dumped her after about a month, can't recall why, and I started going into school a bit more and patched things up with them. I think I probably could have got over that one, but the story doesn't end there, I'm afraid.

We grew very close again over the Christmas holidays that year, culminating in my friend J texting me a few days before term restarted saying that L wouldn't stop talking about me and was definitely going to ask me out. I was chuffed to bits and got a text from L about an hour later asking if I fancied going to the cinema the following weekend. I was very excited and of course said yes. My first proper boyfriend! Term restarted, and I was a bit nervous about overdoing it and scaring him off, so I didn't really treat him any differently - a few more hugs than usual, maybe. That evening, there I was at home, and I got a text from him. Saying that he was really sorry and he thought I was lovely, but he thought I'd got the wrong end of the stick about the cinema, and it wasn't a date, but just as friends. I was mortified. I forget what I replied, but I stayed in bed crying my eyes out for the next couple of days.

No, that's still not the end. You'd think I'd learn eventually. After that I stopped going to school altogether, but tried to keep in touch with a few friends. Including him. I got it into my head that if I persisted, he'd eventually see sense and give in. I practically stalked him over the internet, learnt his favourite song (The Offspring's Dirty Magic - if you know the song you'll know it was a particularly poor choice for me to be listening to over and over in my fragile mental state) and kept asking him out. He started ignoring me after a while. The crunch point came when he signed into MSN with the screen name "Will She Say Yes? :S". I was crushed, he was asking another girl out, and I stupidly decided to push it in a moment of bitterness, opening with something like "Well it depends who you're asking". He responds with "oh yes useful_idiot, it is you". My heart leaps for a second. Then he gets all abusive, I sign off and go looking for my penknife (I really don't remember most of this as I've successfully purged the memory from my brain - don't much fancy going and finding my old diary and checking it right now!). Now, if you're going to do sarcasm in text form, don't use a font that doesn't differentiate between caps and lowercase - what he'd actually written was "oh YES, useful_idiot, it IS you". Just to seal the deal, he sent me an email afterwards in giant, bold, red letters that simply said "I HOPE YOU DIE". Bearing in mind that by now I was convinced I was seriously ill, as I had yet to receive any sort of diagnosis from my doctor (other than "pull your socks up" from a particularly unhelpful GP), it really wasn't the nicest thing to say. He doesn't remember any of this now and is apologetic about it, so I suspect he wasn't quite lucid at the time.

I finally learnt after that one, and didn't speak to him again until a few months after we'd all left school, by which time I'd met the man who is now my husband - who oddly enough had been best mates with him at middle school until some random bust up at the beginning of secondary school, and hadn't spoken to him since then. I need to perk myself back up a bit after dredging that lot back up, so I think I'll be posting that as my one success story shortly! Apoligies for length and teen angst, but it's been quite cathartic getting that lot off my chest.
(, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 14:42, 2 replies)
The chat up line that ruined me…..
Sorry if this one sounds a tad ranty I’m having a few problems with the local council at the moment and they are starting to get on my nerves.

I hate chat up lines, I have never used one myself and always find it better to just try and start a conversation with a woman if you are attracted. Six months ago I saw a chat up line used that still boils my blood.

I was invited to a party at a mates house one Friday night and for some reason I could not bring myself to get myself round to going. The mates house was a good journey away in Inner city London land I was not too keen on going in fancy dress (You may think I ‘m a bit dull for not wanting to dress up but I don’t really care).

Anywhoo I eventually got myself together and got to the party (I didn’t want to be known as a miserable bugger who sat at home reading books in his dressing gown and slippers when he had a chance to go out and meet new people). I tried to get into the mood but it wasn’t working so after 30 minutes I decided to call it a night. That was when I saw her. Her name was T and she was a vision of beauty that made me rethink my plans to vacate the building. I am not usually good with women but decided to try my approach of being friendly and seeing how it went from there. Surprisingly we got on pretty well, she turned out to be very smart (she excelled in maths and was employed as an astronomer). Things were looking good, she was not repulsed by my social awkwardness and it seemed like she would like to meet me again after the party.

Then it all went tits up.

One of the other male guests saw I was making headway with her and decided that he would try his luck with a quick chat up line that was so cheesy, even I rolled my eyes. To my disappointment T fell for it and buggered off with this bloke (My guess is that he was a yank as his accent was horrid and his dress sense was appalling (Despite it being fancy dress)).

Anywhoo I better get off, I have to finish writing my daily letter of complaint about the plans to build a bypass through my property, hopefully my mate Ford Prefect will give me a hand.
(, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 14:34, 12 replies)
Antipodean slip-up
Many years ago I with drinking with some mates in the Princess Louise in Holborn in that there fancy London. All of the staff behind the bar were young, fun and seemed to be enjoying themselves as much as we were.

They were all talking about "... back home..." in Sydney, Perth, Melbourne etc. One of the girls behind the bar was really cute and was continually smiling and making eye contact with me.

Near the end of the night I plucked up courage and as I hate cheesey chat up lines I tried to strike up an ordinary conversation with her.

ME(Breezily):- Do you have to be Australian to work here?
HER (Frosty):- Actually mate I come from New Zealand.

Tumbleweed blew in through the icy landscape as I left.
(, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 14:23, 6 replies)
I've tried...
and failed. Woman never seem to be able to get on with me. I can just sit there in a room with friends and the woman present will just hate me for no reason without me even saying anything. Dunno why.

Gay men on the other hand can't seem to get enough. I've never understood it. What is it that gay men like and woman hate about me?
(, Wed 16 Dec 2009, 13:29, 15 replies)

This question is now closed.

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