Oh God, this digs up bad memories
Some of the most excruciating times of my life have centred around asking girls out.

People who know me now might be surprised, but I was a painfully shy teen - I suspect most of my brash exterior may just be an overcompensating cover-up to make sure some of the 15-year-old tragedies which still haunt my life never re-surface. Until this QoW, of course.

To excise a history which would otherwise have me curled up in a little ball and weeping like Gwynneth Paltrow on Oscars night, I will simply present the story of Asheley.

Asheley (I still remember the oddball spelling to this day) was sex appeal personified. Glorious secretary-specs like those worn by Michelle Pfeiffer in The Witches Of Eastwick, an enticing bob of hair, and a full-length school skirt that she only occasionally allowed to reveal a glimpse of perfectly-rounded calf. She was relaxed, chatty and used to do a pouty thing with her lips that drove me wild. I spent hours talking to her, and it was so easy. Not like talking to other girls that I fancied: conversation with Asheley was so natural, so easy, and we talked through a range of topics beyond most teenagers. Politics, books, theatre, nothing was beyond our expertise. She must have known I was at least interested. With the benefit of my wisdom, I know now I should have just kept up the chatty relationship and - one day - she would have succumbed. Instead, I chose to write...THE LETTER.

Heaven knows why I ever thought it was a good idea, but I asked out an unconscionable number of girls via letter in my teens. As is fairly evident, I have no problems with florid prose and I suspected a few Shakespeare sonnets might be the finishing touch. Obviously, no luck. I'm pretty sure one lass contacted the police about a suspected stalker, and another potential bedmate interpreted my letter as an intention to sleep with her Mum (really, don't ask).

Anyway, I swore things would be different with Asheley. I knew she was bookish, and a big fan of Black Beauty. I painstakingly read swathes of Anna Sewell biographies, cringing horribly as I did so (at the time my reading material of choice was good sturdy thrillers by Alistair MacLean). I carefully composed a letter from Asheley's very own 'Black Beauty', expressing my loneliness and very subtly hinting that I'd like an equestrian-minded female to come and be my stable-mate. It was, if I might say so, a work of genius.

With trembling hands, I sealed the whole thing up in a powder-blue envelope, and casually sauntered around the corner to where Asheley lived. When I was 99% sure that no-one was home, I dashed down the drive, shoved it through the letterbox and ran like Linford Christie with a bulldog biting his goolies.

I sat at home and pined for three days. Every love song on VH1 (I really was a sad child) was devoted, in my mind, to Asheley. I used to lean on the windowsill, stare out and shed tiny tears as I wondered what she was doing. I was willing her to come cautiously up to our drive on tiptoe, powder-blue envelope in hand. Was she undergoing the same agonies I was? Did she have the same feelings of curiosity? Would my sexual experiences carry on being limited to a brief and unerotic fumble with Tracey, the town bike?

Eventually, my father forced me away from the rainy windows and dragged me off to play nine holes of golf. Two pathetically unfulfilling hours later, I dragged my grubby golf shoes over the doorstep, only to put spike-marks and mud all over a delicate, lacy-edged envelope...

Ohmigod! My heart literally leapt. There's no feeling like it when you feel your chest push you up with excitement and anticipation. I could barely breathe. I whisked the envelope up to my bedroom, inhaled deeply of the perfume that coated the letter (trying to ignore the overtones of local grass and dogshit), and - oh so carefully - slit the envelope open.

What Asheley had written turned me upside-down. I've kept it ever since, hidden from all future girlfriends and wives. Every now and then, when I've felt like I can't sink any lower, I've sneaked out this grubby bit of paper from a desk drawer and read through it a few times. It never fails to work. And I am sharing it, with b3ta, for the first ever time.

What did she say to me?

This.

...
( ousgg is not seeking approval, Thu 10 Dec 2009, 20:46, 42 replies)

You bastard
you had me right to the end. You deserve a click for that.
(Madam Cholet, Thu 10 Dec 2009, 21:09, closed)

tinyurl
Good use of the tinyurl. I did check to see if it was an obvious Rick-roll, but you got me too.
(justin(e), Sat 12 Dec 2009, 7:24, closed)

Nicely
.
(ManekiNeko loves horses, Thu 10 Dec 2009, 21:36, closed)

I hate you

(Evilweevil is covered in bees, Thu 10 Dec 2009, 22:01, closed)

I knew it...
I should have gone with my gut feeling and just skipped over it. I'm kinda glad I didn't though, strangely.
(ConanTroutman thought we would free the vulture, Thu 10 Dec 2009, 22:10, closed)

My missus
and three teenage kids didn't know I liked horses until just now.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Thu 10 Dec 2009, 22:12, closed)

you rotten fucker
very nicely written. you got me hook line and sinker
(tuqueboy has been in a medically -induced coma since, Thu 10 Dec 2009, 22:12, closed)

Fuck! You got me!

( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Thu 10 Dec 2009, 22:17, closed)

oh you bastard.
I just laughed out like a loon in the library. Everyone now thinks I'm a mental.

well played.
( Nostrebor can't be everything all the time., Thu 10 Dec 2009, 22:19, closed)

Gah!
Nicely, nicely done!
( Colonel Boris "...a desperate Buzzfeed imitation...", Thu 10 Dec 2009, 22:21, closed)

You are an ankle
Why?

You're lower than a cunt


(clicks)
( ogwen69 has returned from Reddit, Thu 10 Dec 2009, 23:07, closed)

You...
...utter, utter cunt.

*click*
(SonoraAeroClub "OH SWEET HELEN OF BALLS!", Fri 11 Dec 2009, 0:25, closed)

Fuck you right in the cunt.
You fucking fucker.
( idonthaveafunnynickname Drink-Aware? Sure. I'm aware I want another drink., Fri 11 Dec 2009, 1:11, closed)

You utter twat!
Hook, line, sinker!

*clicks*
(ToMeToYou is bumming a Unicorn on, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 1:37, closed)

you absolute bastard
massive click
( Barry the Time Sprout one of your 5-a-day, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 2:07, closed)

aagh
cunthorse ¬_¬
well played, sir, well played *click*
( giftedweasel forgot what he was going to type on, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 2:39, closed)

FUCKING HELL!
Yes, you got me.
(Sir Clitherington Smythe offers him yourself., Fri 11 Dec 2009, 3:03, closed)

Thankyou....
The whole office now knows I love horses.....
(Mental note: turn off sound BEFORE clicking links on this site)
Bahhh!
(Nicka_d, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 5:34, closed)

You bastard
*still clicks though*
(Mensa Reject has gone out, I'll be back on, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 7:37, closed)

Haha!
Well played, sir
(Sivvus trolley collision in the fruit aisle led to a jam, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 8:04, closed)

*doffs cap*
Nicely played, sir. :o)
( bluemeat has been best of all the animals since, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 9:48, closed)

Thank you!
I owe all the inspiration to you...
( ousgg is not seeking approval, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 18:48, closed)

Didn't twig until I saw there was a link at the bottom, then it all fell into place. *click* for effort
(Potedeian, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 12:12, closed)

Click
Twat :)
(Obi wanker nobi Its not a bug, its an unexpected feature, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 12:50, closed)

Genius!
I'm so fucking glad I mute by default in work! *click*
( Sunburn Go on.... It's character building!, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 14:19, closed)

Click
You, sir, are a cunt. Of the highest order. Ha!
( SpankyHanky, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 15:28, closed)

BASTARD.
You utter gibbon's flange, you malodorous shit-whistle and you complete goat-botherer.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Well done.
(_(_(_(_(_(_(_(_(_ =o.o=, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 20:13, closed)

Cunt
I saw that coming (honest!) but still...
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 22:38, closed)

haha a good yarn well spun
have a click
(roadkillontoast, Fri 11 Dec 2009, 23:33, closed)

lol very good - I fell for it as I was a letter writing type at school, and would still be a virgin after leaving university.
( SoBadItsGood Its only a crime if you earn <£100000, Sat 12 Dec 2009, 13:19, closed)

<<And I am sharing it, with b3ta, for the first ever time.>>
really?
Saw it coming, but must admit I jumped from my chair, as it's the first time I have the sound on while opening that page.
Have a click for the beautiful build-up, though.
(Poezestrepe, Sat 12 Dec 2009, 17:45, closed)

Really?
If you saw it coming, smart-arse, why did you click on the link?
( ousgg is not seeking approval, Mon 14 Dec 2009, 19:36, closed)

Holy shit I was horsed
All of that for a horsing. Brilliant
( Furness, Sun 13 Dec 2009, 23:19, closed)

That was lower than whale shit.

(oneinthepink is at your cervix m'lady, Mon 14 Dec 2009, 11:30, closed)

You fucker
I had my headphones on!
(w0rmwood pearl, Mon 14 Dec 2009, 16:25, closed)

Haha
you fucker :)
( DumbMonkey The penis mightier than the sword, Mon 14 Dec 2009, 19:33, closed)

You daft cunt.

( Noeli overtheshoulderboulderholderthingstraplatchboobs, Mon 14 Dec 2009, 19:42, closed)

What
they said.
( stopmeandslapme Cometh the hour, cometh your mum, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 6:37, closed)

Awfully glad I'm not at work

( The Light in Chains don't touch the Pope's boner, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 9:22, closed)

Aaaaaaaarggggh!!
No more can I be smug and laugh at those who've been horsed.

Damn you in the eye for that.
(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, Tue 15 Dec 2009, 13:38, closed)

getting people to look at that is one of my favourite pasttimes
and you managed to get me twice. Twice!

I forgot what it was the second time I read through it and clicked again...
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Thu 17 Dec 2009, 11:01, closed)