The no.1 100% garentted to work, most successful chatup line ever!
"Does this rag smell of chloroform to you?"
( Crap Little Monkey Deathstar, so good they built it twice, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 14:31, 5 replies)

Not me
Nor my mate. But a "friend" of his, in Ibiza.

(Looking down at crotch) "Well, it's not going to suck itself!".

Worked.
(Vice Admiral Sir Charles Cockbrush KCB MBE DSO, who is finding it increasingly difficult to log into b3ta.com wants to duck your aunt and kick your puppy, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 14:25, 3 replies)

The "Who got slapped the most" Competition.
A long while ago, back when I was working hard dossing around and failing Uni, I used to live in an old hotel turned into student accomondations. This meant you could always get a decent sized group to go out pubbing and clubbing with.

Some fellow housemates of mine created one of odd student games. We'd go out and use bad/offensive chatup lines on as many girls as possible to see hwo many slaps we could acculumate at the end of the night.
In hindsight I think it was a genius of a game as it did improve our confidence of goign up to random girls and talking to them. It was also mightly amusing. Well after a night of "£1 pints and shots" everything seemed pretty amusing.

Some of the best lines we used are still with me to this day:

"Nice legs, what time do they open?"
"I'm drunk enough to fuck you now."
"If I told you you had a beatiful body would you sleep with me?"
"Girl's toilet or mens?"

Oh the fun we had.
( Crap Little Monkey Deathstar, so good they built it twice, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 14:23, 1 reply)

Too the point
A mate of mine once told a girl he just met in a club that she should, and I quote, "come back to mine and sit on my cock".

Worryingly enough it worked like a dream...
(satanstolemyteddybear Mu hõljuk on angerjaid täis, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 14:19, Reply)

I'm no Fred Flintstone
but I'll certainly make your bed rock
(Beelzebub's Ball Bag is pleasuring your wife on, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 13:57, Reply)

'scuse me, miss...
But does this rag smell of chloroform?
(Miraclefish How appropriate, you fight like a cow, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 13:42, Reply)

The best chat-up lines are heard on buses evidently.
On the way home after a long and humourless day at the office in Spain. Next to me sat two teenagers in relative silence; chatting now & then but no real conversation going. So to apparently break the awkward silence the guy says to his girly mate as casually as he could possibly manage...

"You're so fit, I could rape you".

Just like that. I guess, presuming being in Spain no one else would understand this jaw-dropper of a chat-up line. Oh how wrong he was; being in the Costa del Sol, most of the bus were more English than he was and the muffled lolling from around the otherwise bus silent bus continued for sometime afterwards. The poor girl nearly died of embarrassment. I decided to help her out by planting a handily ready cheek-ripping guff square into the hardened plastic seat I was sat in next to them. An atmosphere builder, you understand.

The kids' clearly got a bright future; I'm sure I was never that bad, and that's saying something.
( slippery doctore, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 13:04, Reply)

throwing in an incentive...
11 years old, had a crush on Alison. Being a very classy, not at all ignorant of what women want kind of boy, asked her out to Burger King.

Got as polite an embarrassed no as you could expect from the poor girl, in front of her friends.

Did I leave it there? No. "But you'd get a burger out of it", I protested.

Strangely enough, it didn't swing it.
(clinteastwoodbradfield, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 13:01, 2 replies)

If you were a door ...
I'd bang you all night?*


*doesn't actually work...taxi for one.
(snowboardrob, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 12:52, Reply)

Girls can be so cruel...
I used to live in a Suffolk town where going rollerskating every weekend was pretty much the only thing to do as a 13 yr old, and also a good way to be allowed to stay out on a Friday night until..ooooh....at least 9:30pm.

My friend and I saved for our own skates so we didn't have to hire the crappy brown ones and thought we were Kings amongst men. I'd had my eye on this girl who we saw there most weeks for a while and judging by the huddled giggles her friends and her shared everytime I skated past, she/they had noticed.

One night after a particularly successful game of 'train' I stood beside the rink having a much needed coke feeling rather like 'the man'. Suddenly her and her 'cackle' of friends approached - obviously impressed I thought by my skills. I tried to remain cool as they got closer.

"Would you like to go out with me?" she said. I GULPED and tried not to let my weak knees give way to the wheels attached to my feet.

"Yes" I replied, probably a little (lot) too eagerly.

"That's a shame" she said through the beginnings of a laugh. "I wouldn't like to go out with you!". Upon which point her and her friends fell about laughing. As did the crowd of 'mates' who were standing with me.

About 5 years later when we had all grown tall and old enough, we relocated these nights out to the nightclub next door. Skating was for kids - pretending we were on drugs and raving like mentals was where it was at. As I was cutting shapes with my friends I noticed a girl watching me with a group of friends at the side of the dancefloor. "Shit", I thought, "That's her and she's all grown up".

Ambling up to her I smiled and asked. "Would you like to dance with me?" She looked at her friends, who gave her not too subtle encouragement.

"Yes" she replied (a bit, no a LOT too eagerly - or so I like to remember). "That's a shame" I replied, "I wouldn't like to dance with you". I'll never forget the look of embarassment, realisation, and anger crossing her face.

Now, given at this point I was 18 - it was a little sad, and given that she was a cracker, not just a little bit of a wasted opportunity. However, I think I enjoyed my revenge more than any grope of her big tits on the comfy sofas at the back.*


* May not be true.

Apologies for length - If I can hold a petty grudge for 5 years..what did you expect?
(Galahad is out of his gourd on yellow bentines, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 12:51, 12 replies)

I used to sit next to this girl in school
weirldy enough it was her sweaters that really were the object of my desire. Few yeals later i'm flinking through a adult publication and shes in there seeing her in that negligee really was too much.

Yes my memory had just been soiled.

(gets coat)
(Gru being trolled since 1998, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 12:29, 4 replies)

The Nymphomaniac and the relationship of Doom
I was stuck in a failed Marriage for 5 years..amicable enough, my wife was a stunning brunette, but our sex life was none existent..even when I went to kiss her, she would turn away and offer her cheek, (to this day I still don't know why? I asked her on many occasions, but she couldn't give an answer). To everyone on the outside, we were the 'perfect couple', but how little they knew. Our families had kept us together..everyone was so nice, and got on really well, but they didn't realise how I was becoming 'an empty shell', I knew how much it would upset everyone if we split, but I had hit the proverbial wall, and couldn't take anymore. Enough was enough.

It was a Saturday, my wife was at work, and it was at this point I was walking my dogs, It was a hot summers day, I had taken my shirt off, and for a moment I completely forgot how shit my love life had become.. when in the distance I saw a drop dead gorgeous blonde walking her dog..and she took my breathe away. Mesmerised I watched her..her white dress, long flowing blonde hair gently moving in the warm summer breeze..it was like something out of a dream. She turned to leave the field, and before I could think..my legs were moving..then I was running...I had to catch up and speak with her. Something was pulling me to her like a magnet, and I couldn't stop it... I didn't want to stop it either. A sense of desperation enveloped me, and a feeling..I musn't let her walk away without speaking to her.

When I caught up with her, she really was a vision of lovliness. Beautiful green eyes and a gorgeous smile, that when combined with a little look sent shock waves straight to your pants.

I said Hi, and it traspired she only lived round the corner, and we had crossed paths 5 years before (just before i was about to get married), she remembered me.. We got chatting, talked about the dogs, and in too short an amount of time, she was home. My heart was ripping in two to leave.. I walked home, with only one thought on my mind..her.

I couldn't let this go..I had to do something about it. I quickly got home, stuck on a shirt, jumped in the car, and drove round to her house.. Now at this point I felt a bit like a stalker.. What the hell was I doing? what the hell was she gonna think? I took a deep breathe and knocked on the door. As soon as she answered, my heart was beating like I had just run the London marathon.. She was surprised, but was pleased..I could tell in her eyes.. She asked me in, and I confessed everything, how I felt, my current situation, how I felt irresistably drawn to her. She told me, she had seen me walking the dogs several times, and had fantisized about us.. cue instant erection. But although she was single..she would never be with a married man. With a heavy heart I left, but as I walked out the door she said that if I kissed her there would be no turning back. I turned to her..looking into her eyes..her amazng body..I was utterly helpless..and our lips met..they were so soft.. I could have died a happy man after just one kiss.

We met a few times to talk things through, and kiss..perfectly. Our tongues in complete harmony together in our mouths, rolling and caressing like a pair of professional dancers.

It was exactly 2 weeks later that I split from my wife. The upset it caused almost lead me to end my life. (The divorce was finally amicable and we are now on friendly speaking terms if we cross paths..but that is 5 years down the line..it was tough at the start).

It wasn't long before I found out that the hot blonde was a nymphomaniac, and we fucked each other everywhere, any place, anytime..and to say it was absolutely amazing sex is a bit of an understatement. Our bodies fitted perfectly. One day, we fucked each other all day long, with sleep breaks, she was amazing, and after she came for the 10th time, we lay there completely exhausted.

A far as my sex life was concerned, I had gone from one end of the scale to another. It was like a drug, and I was hopelessly addicted.. we both were. In this huge world..we were a perfect match sexually, (I believe if you take the best lover in the world and put them with someone who is ok..the you will only end up with ok sex, but get a perfect match..and it is animalistic and explosive).

A divorce takes time, the closeness of the two families, all the upset, and years of 'relationship' isn't easy to get over..an 'overlap' had occurred, and although my family accepted the new girl..she began to get obsessed about my previous marriage, and bring up my ex wife's name..alot. The cracks started to show, and we would have massive arguments..split up..get back togeher and fuck each others brains out..then repeat the cycle over and over again..for 2 years.

Finally, enough was enough, and I made the split for good.

I would have spent a lifetime with that girl..and even now, thoughts of her drift into my mind from time to time. I am happily married again to a beautiful brunette.. I think I have had enough of blonde's for this lifetime anyway....

So..was it a success..or a failure...maybe a bit of both in the end.
(TheRiddler Hmmmmm... I concur., Fri 11 Dec 2009, 12:27, 7 replies)

don't forget the classic b3ta chat up line
tits or GTFO
( bluemeat has been best of all the animals since, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 11:58, 4 replies)

Oh God. First time I asked a girl if she "wanted to go out with me" was over the 'phone
and she replied "Sure - where?", leaving me floundering, and eventually hanging up.

Still - great ending - my mate and I were looking through a porno mag a couple of years later and the centrefold was the absolute spit of her - to the point of sincere discussion between us for several minutes, so in a way I like to think I've seen her pubes.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 11:56, 2 replies)

Two Students
In advance of this one, I have to say that this ISN'T a story that features me. NOT me, OK? NOT ME. Although I was there.

I've a friend called Adam who's a talented musician, writer and researcher as well as being an all-round nice chap and funny. I hate him.

This personality has only developed in the last few years however and in the first year of uni he was exactly the same as me - untalented hack, with acne and a severe chip on his shoulder.

Classic Adamisms of this time include...

"You don't sweat much, do you have an endocrinal issue?" (said to a frankly gorgeous woman in a club)

"Hello I'm Adam and am pissed. Would you like to sleep with me?"

"I know what rohypnol is, but don't worry, I don't have any with me"

Worryingly, the third one worked - got her talking and they were together for two years before she (Helen) introduced him to his now-wife.
(Medical_Male Say aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 11:14, Reply)

One
Hot summers day when I was about 19-20 I was out drinking with my mates on an all dayer. I am 33 now so have learnt from my mistakes :p

One of the more braver of the group wanted to try and chat up some girls, great I thought I am confident feel happy bring em on!! Eventually he persuades them to come over. By this point i am drunk. True to form one of the girls is fairly stunning and the other was a complete moose so we are all trying to act like the biggest nobs to get the attention of the fit one.

What came next was possible the best put down line I have ever heard and am still in awe of it to this very day.

In my slurred voice I ask her.

"so you wanna go out some time...hic"

"No sorry I would be cheating"

"what have you got a boyfriend" I say

"No" she says, "I would be cheating myself"

It was so well delivered and un-expected that I had no place to go....taxi for one pls!! Luckily for my pride none of my equaly pissed mates got in there either.

Thank god for small mercies.

I have had put downs since but nothing that could come close to that H-bomb.
(bROKEN aRROW PUA HVI Master, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 10:47, 4 replies)

I once asked someone out in the third person...
Small American Girl*: 'Awwww you're dead nice Mr Nerdy Speccy Fucknuts'
Mr Nerdy Speccy Fucknuts: 'Well Mr Nerdy Speccy Fucknuts thinks maybe we should start going out'
Small American Girl: 'Erm...I don't know, Its a bit too soon.'

However 3 Days later was long enough and we were together.
No 'we lived happily ever after' fairytale though as apperently this was a relationship based on monogomy which i failed to commit to.

Length? About a month.

* - By girl I mean 16 year old this was no paedophilia based relationship.... But once or twice i may have pretended she was 11 during sexy time.
( Mr Nerdy-Speccy-FuckNuts Ouchy ouchy wa wa!, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 10:47, Reply)

B3ta: turning meaningless sex into true love since 2009.
I went to a b3ta bash in central London and got horrendously drunk on white wine. I was having difficulty finding my way out of the pub let alone to Paddington station and lo, I missed my train. Fortunately help came in the line delivered by fellow b3tan, Captain V. "You can come home with me and stay at my parents' house," he said, and I immediately knew I'd be safe as he lived with his mummy and daddy, and was from Off Topic and therefore gay.

After a lengthy journey back to his home he nobly made up the sofa bed for me, and then, like a true gentleman, wouldn't let me sleep alone. I woke up with a hangover, a massive grin, and a 155 mile walk of shame ahead of me in a broken pair of shoes. Turns out he wasn't gay and his innocent offer of sanctuary involved a family-sized box of condoms and a double duvet.

He lives with me now. We're getting married next year. Ta, b3ta.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 10:28, 22 replies)

My mate Dave
once went up to a girl in the student union bar who was hardly what you'd call big boned, but she was a bit excessively curvaceous, and then he delivered the most charming and sincere chatup line I've ever heard.

"Do you fancy a shag or are you one of them fanny noshers?"

However, she didn't see the sincerity nor was particularly charmed and declined his invitation with a firm kick to his shins. He came back over to where I was sitting, well hobbled really, and said "It seems she was". I told him that the Doc Martin boots should've given it away if he'd only paid more attention before wading in.
However, it turns out we were both wrong as at the end of the night we saw her down an alleyway sucking off a taller more emaciated version of "Student Grant" from Viz.

Still, you can't judge a butch by it's stereotype I always say.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 9:54, 2 replies)

A workmate
Went to a bar for an afternoon’s drinking with a pal. After a few hours, when the bar had started to fill up a bit, he and said pal thought it would be amusing if they slipped off to the gents then re-emerged into the bar, stark bollock naked. His future wife just happened to be in the bar at the time. They just had their first child last month.
(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 9:41, 1 reply)

How I met the wife
I'm at a work collegues birthday party and was getting bored. Two attractive women entered the bar and sat down the other end of the table. I thinks 'I'll be nosey then fuck off home'

I pop down and ask the fella they are talking to to introduce me to 'the lovely ladies' (Cheesy is fine if you really don't give a shit)

The brunette says 'We're not ladies, we're slappers.'
Quick as a flash I says "Well I thought your were interesting, now I think you're irresistable."

So that was how I met the wife and lived happily ever.

Funnily enough, she decided that I looked like a candidate for a root that evening and slipped out to shift her car so it wouldn't get towed. In the meantime I couldn't be arsed and headed home. She had to hunt me down...
(schrodingers cat now you see me, or not, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 9:29, 2 replies)

I'm very confident and straight forward
So when this guy from the office and I grow very, very close (mainly because of his insistence of teaching me everything he knew about real ale and of showing me all the good pubs in Manchester) I decided to go for it. What could go wrong?

So one of those evenings after work, after a lot of beer, and hugs, and holding hands, I went a bit further and kissed his cheek and hugged him; and he kissed my cheek back and hugged me. Then I kissed his chin, and he hugged me a looong hug. Then I kissed the tip of his nose, and he hold my shoulders and pushed me back gently, and asked:

-"You've never been spurned, have you?"
-"I've never been what?"
-"Spurned, you know? When you ask someone out and he turns you down. Spurned."
-"Ah, no. You're right. I haven't"
-"I thought so. Well, I'm sorry I'm gonna have to be the first one"
-...
...
... ok...

Three months later I was f*king him and now we're living together and talking about babies.

Challenges to me!
(Aberracion Life's getting very complicated, but a lot of fun., Fri 11 Dec 2009, 9:12, 5 replies)

I have found a fool proof way of getting any girl to go out with you.
well any realistic girl anyway.

First of all I become a non-sexual non threatening friend with said girl. Then after 6 or so years of consoling her over her break-ups and heartbreaks swoop in for a sympathy shag.

It might not work if she gets married at any point and it's best to use this technique with 30 or so girls so that in 6 years time you'll look like the fucking Mac daddy.
(NuffMuff fucks shrubbery, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 9:05, 3 replies)

Half in - Half out of subject
I must have been 15/16 - end of the 80's - doing my GCSE's.

I'd been forced to take History for god's sake - a great subject for someone whose only demonstrable skills were for technical subjects. Subsequently, I positioned myself to the rear of the class and found myself sat next to two girls who i'd seen around (for 4 years) but not really spoken to - much like every other female in he school.

My 'story' revolves around my relationship (read: lack of relationship) with one of the girls; lets call her 'Vicky' (as that was her name yadayada) - I doubt she read this, so it doesn't matter. Vicky was ok. Probably made someone a good wife (is that sexist?), but not a stunner. Her permed black hair never really did it for me, but as one of the few girls who actually spoke to me in class, she was interesting.

One night i had the most vivid dream ever - i mean, so vivid i woke up believing it had happened, and still get goose bumps when i think about it. You know those times you've had nightmares, woke up and thought "that was horrible", but then go back to sleep and can't remember much in the morning? It wasn't like that at all! This felt real.

The dream starts with me and Vicky sitting in my dad's car - me in the driver's seat, her in the passenger, on the driveway. Strange - as I was obviously too young to drive, and had never been in that position. Vicky tells me she's pregnant and it's mine. Now this was a huge shock - as young Another_tragic_case had yet to lose his cherry and was a very late gatherer of such experiences. I'd definitely never even touched Vicky yet alone penetrated her snatch, yet my protestations got me nowhere. She told me she was keeping the baby and that we'd have to get married. I was sweating like a whore at this point and i'm surprised i didn't wake in a swimming pool.

The dream then switched to scene two. I'm walking down my street the following day towards school pondering on the fact i'm about to be a father. Three girls from my form/group are in front (including the girl i actually did like - who ended up batting for the other side). They do the expected pointing and laughing, calling me 'daddy' etc. I continue down to school and wake up just as i walked through the school gates - in a state of panic. I'm convinced it was real. I get dressed for school, walk down the street (see two of the girls form the dream together) and through the school gates - and wake up again!

WTF! At this point i'm a nervous wreck. I check with my mother that i'm really awake - get several strange looks - and go to school. I've got History first that day. Still with this episode fresh in my head, I go straight up to Vicky and, for some yet-to-be-ascertained reason, feel obliged to ask her out. I found it difficult not to mention the dream, or to ask if she was actually pregnant.

Fortunately, she said no.
( Another_tragic_case wished he hadn't eaten all the cake, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 8:51, Reply)

Squeaky Voice
One night (five years ago or so) at a nightclub just off Oxford Street, I was dancing with this girl. She seemed keen, and I wasn't even that put off by her odd squeaky high-pitched voice.

However, her mate told my mate to tell me that she was married, and that I shouldn't expect too much. Anything in fact.

But she genuinely seemed keen. She did. She DID. She even asked for my mobile number.

She even said she'd be coming back to the same nightclub the following week.

A week later, plus an unwise number of beers on top of that, in she walks, along with a coterie of pals, both male and female. Squeaky-voice goes to the bar. Alone.

I amble over and explain that she's right fit and she obviously had fun last week, and my mate was clearly confused about some whole marriage thing he was blabbing on about.

"Oh no" she squeaked, "my husband is sitting just over there!"
I looked in the direction that Squeaky-voice was pointing in, possibly putting a hand over one eye to aid focusing.
"Him?"
"Yes."
"But, he'sh ugly... I'm betterr looken than im an I ain't all that."

I then proceeded to badger the poor squeakyvoiced lady for a further 5-10 minutes, along the lines of "But he's ugly. I am almost certainly cleverer than him. And better company." All slurred to fuck.

And the odd thing was, she put up with it. No drink poured over me. No pithy piss off. Not even a polite "Well it's been nice to meet you again but..."

I eventually gave up. I have the distinct feeling that that was one of those nights where I woke up the next morning without the slightest clue as to how I got home.

For your patience, Squeakyvoiced lady, I salute you. You seem like an excellent wife, and if I wasn't now married, I'd have another pop at you. You champ.
(theremin put the lotion in the basket on, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 8:48, 1 reply)

Well not exactly my story...
But a friend of mine of well-limited I.Q. and well below average looks, (tested 88 in high school and 10-scales about a 3-4 when he pulls in his gut) had the highest pull percentage of anyone I ever knew...and I was in the army and knew many and their exploits. Now he was a simple guy and absolutely sincere and never acted like he cared about the women in any intensive way and, in fact he had no concern about the looks of the women or anything about her.

What mystical strategy got him 98%+ results? He would wait about one hour after the clubs open, well before women were even showing effects, then, when the music was really loud would always go to the VERY FIRST GIRL at the end of the bar and say "Wanna Fuck"? Upon failure would go to the very next girl "Wanna Fuck?". No set-up, no nothing, no banter AT ALL. Now as you can imagine each following girl saw the reaction of the previous girls and he would be wiping drinks off with napkins but HE NEVER STOPPED.

Nearly every time the sixth or seventh girl (we used to take bets which one), who by now KNEW the punch line even though they could not hear it, would accept and out of the club they would go.

I saw him get the most random assortment of girls you could imagine, from two-ton crane hoisters to models and I witnessed him do this successfully for TEN YEARS.

MORAL: Every 6th or 7th girl (on average) has the same opinion about looks, sex, and spending 4 hours in a club as he had.

Supplemental: He never worked a lick, never spent more than the cost of getting in and one drink (99% of the time that was borrowed from us), and never felt even the tiniest bit embarrassed about the process. Every time this guy went with us was hilarious, embarrassing and occasionally humiliating, all for us...he wasn't worried what we thought either.
(OMG-Hilarious, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 8:48, 2 replies)

Nearly got sent to the salt mines for this one
As I'm so old, this occurred way way back in the early 80s, when there was still a country called Yugoslavia, which was still in its own way part of the Communist Bloc. When I say "in its own way", well being on the Adriatic coast it encouraged tourists from Europe to visit and was of course dirt cheap. So naturally my family went there for two weeks and stayed at a coastal resort called Porec. So far, so boring.

For a 14 year old lad there was absolutely nothing to do 95% of the time, the 5% of the time that was slightly worthwhile was the "entertainment" every evening, which consisted of a local band doing covers of fairly naff music whilst wearing an approximation of Western clothing.

Every evening, whilst my parents were probably getting pissed somewhere else, I would sit on my own and watch the band, idly wondering which of all the females in front of me would get it, given the chance. Ladies, you don't know how horny a 14 year boy old is. It's beyond funny, beyond tragic. The sexual urge at that age has elements of monomania that Hitler would dismiss as being over the top; combined of course with zero chance of fulfilment involving another human being - plus at that time there was no Internet p0rn and not even Channel 4 and their naughty films.

Finally after 10 nights of sitting alone every night, nursing an erection beneath the plastic table, not even with the prospect of a good tug to look forward to later as I was sharing a room with my little sister, I plucked up enough courage to walk over to the table of the German Goddess.

I had been mooning over her every night. She was just...well, female, and pretty, and sat every night with her mother who was obviously in retirement from the Waffen SS. She sat there, the antithesis of my good self as she was confident that every night, she would be approached and would have the delights of dancing to music which made Black Lace sound like the Philharmonic.

"Plucking up courage to ask her" makes it sound like a spur of the moment decision. In fact, planning this approach and building up the psychological momentum to do it was akin in my hormone-addled mind to base-jumping off Everest with a parasol; failure was almost guaranteed, the cost of failure - the walk of shame back to my table - incomprehensibly high. Never in my life has the expression "like a moth to a flame" been so apt.

And when the sweating, stammering me finally walked over to her table, I didn't even get the honour of a personal rejection. I don't think she even looked at me. No, her mother, Himmler in disguise, looked at me with unconcealed loathing and shook her head. She probably started shaking her head the second I left my table and started the 20 yard walk to their table (this all took place in an outside patio area in the hot Croatian night). Hell, a satellite-mounted thermal imaging system would have seen me approach, blushing so hard it's a wonder the heat seeking missiles in nearby army bases didn't go off.

That night I learnt two things - what the walk of shame felt like, which seemed to go on for slightly longer than the Long March of the Chinese (look it up) and also how quickly lust and desire turns to bitter ashes once it has been thwarted. I'm not a violent man but all the passion inside me turned to rage in a second. Typing this out I now see where my anti-German sentiments which I held for a good 20 years after this incident spring from.

On the table I returned to was a glass Coke bottle, a glass, and an ashtray made of foil. Fuming, steam probably coming out of my ears, I sat down and crushed the ashtray in my impotent fist.

Within moments, a Slavic waiter loomed in front of me. In cold fury, he asked me what I had done with the ashtray. I couldn't understand what the issue was - it was nothing more than a mince pie holder with grooves on it to hold a cigarette, value approximately 0.02 pence. I offered to pay for a replacement, holding out around £1 in dinars, but this was not apparently the correct response. As well as being a vandal, I was now trying to use my filthy Western wealth to bribe a decent Socialist worker.

I was then marched through the audience by the waiter, just in case my recent humiliation had not been enough. Brought in front of the manager, I was told that destroying hotel property was a crime, and my parents would be informed on the morrow.

Eventually, the situation was resolved with of course a good old English handshake between myself and the manager, and frequent promises never to do such a dreadful deed again.

That was my last family holiday.

I went on to be fervently anti German and anti Yugoslavian for some years.

I lost my virginity somewhat late.

Apologies for length, but I haven't contributed for ages - so on average, it's not that long a post.
( I_Was_Mordred, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 8:17, 3 replies)