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This is a question Dates Gone Wrong

Ever gone on a date when "she" turned out to be a male university lecturer in his 50s who tucked his shirt into his Y-fronts? No, me neither. Tell us how it all went shit-faced.

(, Thu 4 Sep 2014, 13:13)
Pages: Popular, 4, 3, 2, 1

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Summer loving had me a blast. Summer loving happened so fast. I met a girl crazy for me
Then I gave her genital warts around the anus
(, Mon 8 Sep 2014, 9:28, 1 reply)
My trouble and...
The date that is still going...
(, Sun 7 Sep 2014, 19:32, Reply)
Everything that could go wrong DID go wrong
Let me take you back through the mists of time to 1992. I was still living in Essex, as someone had to do, and was at the time employed by the Essex Water Company. I also did a little bit of work in a local boozer for some extra beer money. One day, while working at the pub we are introduced to our newest bar maid, her name is Jenny, she is stunning. Small, petite, a brunette, intelligent, pretty and we get on like a house on fire. Now, I get on with a lot of women, but I am not God's gift when it comes to looks and I never normally get up the bravery to ask someone out as I can pretty much predict the answer without having to resort to asking Mystic Meg. Anyway, Jenny and I continue to get on during our regular shifts at the pub and then one evening I sort of mumbled a "wouldyouliketogooutfordinnersometimeitsfineifyousaynowhichyouprobablywillasIamsuchafatuglycunt.." But quite amazingly, she said yes. I was completely spazonkled by this outcome and delighted. We arranged the following Thursday, when we were both off work for the evening we would go out.

I finish work as early as possible, get home and shower and shave and preen my grotty plumage for all its worth, desperate to make myself look presentable and even slightly attractive. I go outside and get in my car. The battery is stone dead. The car is going nowhere. My only other possible vehicle to use was my works Essex Water Company van - a rather soiled shitty Ford Escort. Not really the image I was hoping to portray, but it would have to do. So I drive over to Brentwood where she lived, windows open the whole way hoping the smell of water company tools, fags and sweat would not be too overpowering when my little darling climbs in. The road she lived in had speed humps all the way down it, which I wasn't aware of, and as I turned into it I went over the first one a bit too fast and there was an alarming metallic crunching noise from under the van and the exhaust started growling like Tom Waits with a chest infection. The roaring van arrives at her front door. I knock and she appears. A vision of total loveliness. My heart genuinely skipped a beat and I mumbled something like "youlookgorgeousyouarebeautiful" etc etc. Her smile was dazzling, but it receded somewhat when she saw her carriage for the evening - a shitty mud caked Essex Water Company van. I apologised and explained about my car. She seemed OK. So off we went. I drove over the first speed bump and the entire exhaust system dropped off the undercarriage of my van. I stopped and apologised. I climbed out and ran back behind the van to pick up the mangled wreckage and threw it in the back of the van, my hands now covered in black filth. Her smile had gone, and in her hands were a big bundle of grot mags. And not just Razzle or Escort, but the sort of grot mags you need to order under a plain brown cover. Total and utter filth. Mostly nothing to do with me. One of my co-workers of the name Nigel was a complete pornoholic and collected this sort of scuff on a monumental level. I had no idea he had left some in my van which he sometimes used, and in the glove compartment as well, which Jenny had innocently opened while waiting for me to retrieve the exhaust system. I made some sort of bleating claims of innocence and threw the filth in the back of the van, but the gleaming smile had gone and she looked like she did not believe me at all. I re-started the van, but the deafening roar of the now completely fucked exhaust system was enough to induce nose bleeds, so Jenny kindly offered to drive us in her car. As I helped her into her car I managed to get a big black smudgy hand print on her pristine white top. I had booked a table at what had once been a very nice Italian restaurant in Chelmsford. When we got there it was clear things had changed. It was shit. The music was deafening and of the Italian brand of electro pop where everyone seems to go "Bingi-bangi-bongi!" a lot. The waitress had horrendous BO and kept leaning over both of us, letting us enjoy her aroma to it's full extent. The food was shit and the whole place was populated by gurning teenage fuckwits eating pizza and shouting at each other. We drove back to Jenny's house in stony silence. She did invite me in for a coffee, and then proceeded to sit and talk to me, like I was a five year old, explaining how sometimes you can like someone, but you can only ever be friends. Understand? Hmmmm? Friends? Almost like a social worker explaining housing benefit to a client not playing with a full deck.

I drove back to my place with an exhaust system that sounded like 15 Concordes all taking off at the same time and my heart sinking to the soles of my boots. To cap a fine evening off I got stopped by the Police on the way home due to the loud roaring sound of my fucked exhaust. I was surprised to find when I got home that my house hadn't been hit by an asteroid.
(, Sun 7 Sep 2014, 16:50, 50 replies)
Before eating them, always check the surface of fruits from the Phoenix dactylifera palm, poor storage conditions may be conducive to fungal growth.

(, Sun 7 Sep 2014, 16:41, Reply)
Trying to rescue the saved
At first I thought she was a sweet young thing but then she started on about the orgasmic rapture of having recently taken on Jesus as her personal savior.
I was trying to explain how it was possible to worship Him on a carnal plane, but she wouldn't listen. "Sometimes," I said, "Jesus asks me to reach out and touch people in a certain way in certain places. Does He ask that of you?"
"Anyway," I said as she ran out, "Jesus isn't your personal savior, He's mine."
(, Sun 7 Sep 2014, 13:51, Reply)
Up shit roof without a ladder.
Wavy Lines.
I used to work as a chippie in years gone by. For those of the soft-handed variety a chippie is a carpenter, often a roofing carpenter. Being part of a team of 3 meant that frequently fun and frivolity ensued.

One of the blokes I worked with was a gap-toothed charmer named Terry or Tez for short. To say that Tez was a bit different was a gross understatement. We knew Tez by two names - "Night-Tez" and "Day-Tez". At work he was an easy-going joker who could be relied upon to mostly get on with the job. The worst of his practical jokes involved "gorning" (don't ask about the name - I've got no fucking idea) which essentially entailed him surreptitiously hitting you in the testes. If he achieved this without you getting out of the way or hitting you hard enough that you couldn't retaliate then you had been "GORNED!" according to Tez. Top kek, as the kids these days say.
Night Tez was a whole other fucking story. Imagine the most racist, homophobic politically incorrect person you know. Combine them with Nigel Farage, Marie Le Pen and Tony Abbott. That was Night Tez after only a couple of beers at the pub after work. Mussolini and Franco would have seemed like a nice amiable fellows by closing time.

Anyhow. One particular job springs to mind. We were retiling a slippery moss covered clay-tile roof (both Tez and our offsider Daz were roofies - people who specialize in roofing carpentry, as you might imagine many prefer to be called "chippies" now) and whilst Daz was up on the roof pulling tiles, Tez was on the ladder being handed the tiles and ditching them in skip.
All of a sudden I hear a "whack-thump-yelp" from around the corner. As I'm hands full I shout out to the boys "Alright?"
I get back an answer from Daz, it seems that Tez has slipped on the ladder - "Day-Tez GORNED 't rung!"
(, Sun 7 Sep 2014, 8:13, 15 replies)
Grill, Interrupted
Early 90s, on a Sunday afternoon train from Manchester to London, I paid the extra tenner to stretch my legs out in First Class and found myself sitting opposite a very attractive Asian girl. I fancied the pants off her the minute I saw her but didn't rate my chances.

Anyway, we got chatting and got on like the proverbial house on fire. Same sense of humour, same books, films, music - you name it, we bonded on it. Quickest three hours of my life and I was genuinely sorry when the train pulled in to Euston. But it was a foregone conclusion that we would exchange phone numbers and so she arranged to come over to Greenwich and we'd go out for dinner.

She worked somewhere in the City - can't remember what she did but I knew that refolded Mexican food wouldn't work and I'd definitely have to pull the stops out on this one. So I got a table at a new place that had just opened and was certainly not cheap.

She arrives, it's lovely. I have champagne chilled in the fridge, we go for dinner and... fuck me - it's like I'm being interviewed for a job. Actually, worse - it was an interrogation. Over dinner I am grilled (no pun intended but I mean grilled) about my job, my prospects, my salary, my finances, my pension - you name it, she went through it with a fine toothcomb. It was one of the most off-putting experiences I've ever had and by the end of the meal I just couldn't wait to get rid of her. All my erotic dreams of moustache-twirling seduction evaporated into a Money Box Live-type impotence. I walked her to the station and saw her onto her train home. Never called her again.

(She told me over dinner that her ex had just moved out one day and only told her by answerphone, which was by any standards a cunt's trick. Part of me wanted to excuse her undoubted paranoia and understand her need for security. The rest of me wasn't at all surprised.)
(, Sun 7 Sep 2014, 2:27, 12 replies)
I've got a newish girlfriend over for dinner tonight.
We had a lovely meal and I figured we could watch a film, have a drink and later I'd subjugate her bush. I stick the telly on only to find there's some sort of God awful Dr skagra fanfic on, and it's taking forever to change the damned channel.

It's completely ruined the mood
(, Sat 6 Sep 2014, 19:50, 2 replies)
a so-called mate once set me up with a colleague. he sounded ok by text. we arranged to meet and he was running early. i could see three possibilities all lined up against the wall. a grossly overweight guy who looked like a turd in a brown suit and shirt; an offensively ginger dood with a sk8rboi vibe; and a gimpy looking bloke in a hoodie. i hoped it was the gimp. and it was.

just as we were saying hello, it started to rain. we therefore dived into the nearest cafe before the hordes of scavenging tourists. it was a slightly odd looking place, but they had diet coke, so i was easily pleased. oddly enough, despite the downpour, nobody followed us inside. after about an hour of ok but underwhelming conversation, he excused himself to go to the toilet. i picked up the menu, and all became clear. we had landed in a bible bashing heavy christian cafe. i wondered uncomfortably if i had sworn at all (probably, let's fucking face it).

when he came back, i pointed it out to him. and i swear i saw the evangelical gleam light up his face from the inside. "i know! i thought it must be fate when you picked it!" he said excitedly. and proceeded to tell me at great length how he had found god at age 28 and how much he now loved being a christian. now, i firmly believe that everyone should be able to believe in what they want, but when it comes to dating, my personal preference is that i couldn't date anyone who was heavily religious. just as i was thinking this, and how christians always try to convert you, he clasped my hands and said beseechingly,


i told him i didn't.

it seemed like the most humane thing to do.
(, Sat 6 Sep 2014, 16:26, 11 replies)
I once asked a girl to an Ethiopian restaurant, no doubt thinking my eclectic taste would result in us having sex
I made a last minute decision to change my trousers with ones that didn't have stains on the front. Unfortunately, the new ones didn't have my wallet in them. She was polite and gracious about having to pay for dinner, but this didn't extend to coming back to my place for a spot of fucking, or in fact, speaking to me again.
(, Sat 6 Sep 2014, 14:18, Reply)
Tell ya wots a date gone wrong. Two fucking blokes together. Wots that all about.
God made adam n eve not fucknig adam n steve. Send the fuckers to prison and away from my kids, pedos
(, Sat 6 Sep 2014, 11:35, 19 replies)
Not proud of this one.
Going back about 20 odd years. I was young, single, lived alone and had a fairly fluid financial situation. Due to this I *sometimes* found myself in predicaments where I might meet a partner in one evening and end up bedding them before sun-up. Don't you judge me you filthy cunts! I am a man of good moral fiber. Now.

One such evening I met Marion. She and I hit it off and after much libations we strolled/staggered back to my humble abode.
The following morning after some slightly less strenuous than the night before's drunken effort, morning delight and a warm breakfast (I lived above a cafe and knew the owners well) we exchanged numbers and promised to call, when she did mention that she was living with her mum who could be a bit chatty so beware of that if I called. We both knew I wouldn't.
Ahh, the 90's. Remember when you could give someone a phone no. and they couldn't get your life history based on that?

A few weeks later I was at a party held by my mum's next door neighbors for their musician son - celebrating his first album launch. I was enjoying the cold imported beers from the cooler when I came across an attractive older woman called Nina (my mums neighbor's son agent - maybe 20 odd years older than me). She was well shaped in all the right places and was wearing a fitted red dress and very nice black stockings. As I was by then living in a shared house with 3 other blokes, when she sensually purred into my ear that we could get going I got the the cab to head to her place. That night my Mrs Robinson and I pretty much explored as much of the sexual spectrum that we both felt comfortable with. Suffice to say not an orifice was left untouched and both parties fell into a drunken slumber well satisfied.

The following morning after a slightly more gentle bout of rumpy-pumpy I got up in the nick and availed myself of the ablutionary amenities. As I was siphoning the python the bathroom door opened and in strolled Marion from a few weeks before. I tried to shout and cover my shame and she fucking bolted. Moments later I was dressed and in the kitchen headed to the door with my polite but hasty goodbyes when Nina had to introduce me to her daughter Marion.
We locked eyes, I turned and left and never saw either of them again.

tl;dr - I fucked a mum and a daughter and despite it being a fantasy for many men, it wasn't good.
(, Sat 6 Sep 2014, 10:29, 14 replies)
"You're home early."
"I puked."
"In the cab."
"On his dick."
(, Sat 6 Sep 2014, 9:47, 5 replies)
Red, red wine
Many moons ago I had a silly crush on a boy which, after a disastrous party where we kissed but at which I was whizzing my tits off and wearing a tight, red dress (I'm also male and did drag very, very rarely) he somehow wanted a date! With me!
I had finished work in my loca pub kitchen at 2. Date at 4. Dutch courage required I dodged lager (hadn't got the hang of it), gin (didn't want to be fucked on arrival) and so settled easily on red wine. A large red wine. I'm not used to drinking red wine but it's classy, no...? I had another before going to the large beer garden where we were to meet. I was early so ordered myself a large red wine. He was a smidge late and bought me a large red wine as mine was nearly gone. It's a sunny day.
It's a really sunny day.
He gets back with the drinks and he's funny, I'm funny, we've a connection. Half an hour flies by. I'm hot in all senses. We're now talking about our our childhoods etc. and he's finished his pint so I go and get him one and buy myself a largeredwine. I'm REALLY unused to drinking red wine and suddenly I've a tremendous amount of saliva about my mouth. Ho-hum.
I get back with the drinks and am holding it together when, at the very moment he mentions that he is an atheist, despite being raise a Roman Catholic, as the final 'c' in catholic is sounded I projectile vomit 2 bottles of Claret across the table. It missed him, but over a litre of hot burgundy fluid is rather difficult to style out. I've gone from being cute, witty, charming Garetha into some quasi-demonic Linda Blair cum Carrie at the mere mention of organised religion.
Length? Long enough for me to mutter 'yes, I'm fine to get home' through my spattered, purple face before he walked out of my life forever.
(, Sat 6 Sep 2014, 9:17, 5 replies)

(, Sat 6 Sep 2014, 8:09, 4 replies)
Bad dates?

Star Wars.
(, Fri 5 Sep 2014, 19:58, Reply)
Back when I was about 19 I had a job in a hotel bar in brighton
I had recently been promoted to a position where I would stay late, and discovered this had it's advantages, ie. an hours free unsupervised drinking.

Times with the girlfriend were very turbulant, and we were on an off period (She was fucking crazy, and somehow turned out to be the mother of my child)
Her most recent escapade at the time had involved her telling me she was killing herself (she had a history of self harm) if I didn't go back to her immediately, and as a young dumb naive teenager I dealt with it the only way I knew how, Large consumption of extremely strong alcohol.

So I was shitfaced cashing up, it was probably all wrong, but i'll never find out, here's why.

After cashing up I stumbled off on my way to the staff room to collect my belongings, when who should I bump into but my superior, however a boss of a different department. She was 38-40something in age and I had a schoolboyesque crush upon her to the point where I had masturbated over fantasies of her...anyway.
She noticed me drunk and told me to step into her office, I followed her and sat down ready for a bollocking. She asked if i was alright, I said yeah, but I needed to roll a joint to steady the ship (it definately doesnt work like that) As the words came out, I thought my job was gone forever.But she just told me I was naughty and gave me a cheeky look, but said go ahead. I began to skin up on her desk, all the while we were talking and getting on really well having not had much interaction before. When I had finished she told me she hadn't smoked in years and could she try some. We went round the back of the hotel and smoked it, If I wasn't a mess before, I had positively stepped over the line to the other side now.

I told her I needed to change out of my work clothes and go home, "No you don't" she said, and grabbing my hand she started pulling me out the main entrance of the hotel, "lets go out in to town" she said "it's been such a long time since I had any fun."
Fuck it, i thought, and off we went, still in uniform.

We started off in a cocktail bar in north laine, and ended up on the seafront within 3 hours. we were both absolutely steaming and stumbled arm and arm over the pebbles snogging intensely, I couldn't believe what was happening.
As we laughed and pissed around my keen nose gravitated us towards a large group of hippie types smoking marijuana. having smoked all mine earlier I asked if any of them had any spare, and they shared some joints with us. We lay together on the beach listening to the sea in a boozy smoky sort of coma, but regained our senses about an hour later.
Feeling like I was sobering up a little and feeling a pang of guilt for my mental (currently off) girlfriend I suggested we get some food, go to a taxi rank and head our seperate ways. She agreed.

After collecting our greasy kebabs we walked to the taxi rank, I escorted her into a taxi and bent down to kiss her and say goodbye. As I lent down she grabbed the front scruff of my work shirt and pulled me into the taxi simultaneously telling the driver her address.
Now things started getting really heavy and she went straight in for the blow job, I looked up and caught the driver smirking in the mirror, and decided he'd be ok with it, I was too drunk to feel uncomfortable about him watching. the driver told us we were nearly there and she got off me, and paid the cabby.

She took my hand and led me to the door of her flat, I was somewhere near the outskirts of the city. We bust through her flat door and immediately jumped onto her bed, as she took her dress off I could have melted, she had an absolutely amazing figure. Feeling more confident know and forgetting completely about the nutcase I showed my first signs of taking control, I teased her for a bit, and eventually penetrated her. She felt fantastic. We were going slowly for about 3 minutes before she came...and didn't she come, I found myself covered in liquid, something I had only ever seen before in porn as a 19 year old boy. She got out of the bed and went to the bathroom. I quickly wiped my hand in the gush and smelled it to double check it wasnt piss, it wasn't. When she came back I finished off, then very hurredly left, with ashamed thoughts of my crazy girlfriend making me feel very uncomfortable. I began to walk but was completely lost, and still rather sozzled. Eventually I got my bearings and walked about 2 miles home.

Upon finding my house I discovered I had left my keys in her flat, so I hailed down a taxi and rode it to my mates, it was getting light now.
As i got out the taxi I closed the door, rather amazingly onto my own head, which was now bleeding profusely, and stumbled to my mates door. I knocked but no answer. So with my bloody hand I reached through the letterbox and undid the latch, as I stepped in I found my freind in the kitchen looking incredibly dishevelled. Turns out he'd been on a wrongun bad trip for the last few hours which had heightened upon seeing the bloody hand reach through the letterbox. However the site of me with blood pouring from my cranium seemed to snap him out of it, the reality that his freind needed his help. He patched me up and we decided we'd just stay up another day as it was already light. We walked up to the hill fort above brighton and smoked all day, sharing our antics of the previous night.

I now have a scar on my head which always serves as a reminder of that random evening, I don't think I will ever forget the rollercoaster ride of lust, shame, pain, luck, joy and secrecy.
I never collected my keys, I never went back to work.
I found out several months later from a member of staff that she had got pregnant, and I shat myself (not quite literally), but I don't think its mine, the timings not quite right thankfully.

Er, apologies for the length, got a bit carried away and lost in memory.

edit: tl;dr ...Havn't really gone with the subject here either have I? whoops.
(, Fri 5 Sep 2014, 17:30, 17 replies)
In which I became her online dating disaster story... Don't date tired.
Oh god, how can I condense this one adequately.

So, I was tired, overworked, over-travelled but managed to cram in a quick coffee with a simply lovely girl I'd been chatting to online.

She was just awesome. Retired catwalk model, recent PhD, now lecturing in her field at Oxford. Sharp, penetrating chat, funny, keenly down to earth, stratospherically beautiful. The perfect 10.

she asked a very leading question about what I thought about Dawkins, which I tried to swerve the populist response by referring to a friend who had him as his tutor and had a bit more insight into his outlook.

Except said friend had died, in the most pointless and tragic way, and I got a bit distracted and ended up, in part through some pent up emotion and part no doubt simple exhaustion, sitting there for about ten minutes in floods of tears.

She was awesome. She held my hand, gazed quietly at me, bathed me in sympathy and understanding and made me feel like everything was OK. Then she stood up, looked me coolly in the eye and said "so what would you like to do now?"

Exhausted, drained, I simply said "honestly, I want to go to bed and get some sleep".

SO I walked her home, said goodnight, and went quietly off to a dark corner to kick myself in the arse for about 3 hours straight for being the guy that cried on his first (and last) date...
(, Fri 5 Sep 2014, 17:16, 6 replies)
This WILL be a long one. So, I was living in Glasgow, and was enjoying the local ladies well enough.
Staying in a Georgian townhouse that had been converted into 5 bedroomed apartments. My landlord lived in, but spent most of his time at his girlfriend's, and there were two other blokes living there who were both hardly ever in too, which meant that there was usually no embarrassing encounters in the kitchen or living room the morning after.
Until The landlord's girlfriend Diana decided to take an interest in me. No, not like that. She just thought that it was time I settled down. And she had a 'LOVELY' single friend, who'd I'd be just 'PERFECT' for, because 'She's over her last fiancée now stuj. And she likes nerdy blokes and you know, you're a weatherman and that so it counts, right? Anyway, she's coming over tomorrow night with Ken and me for dinner, so that she can get to meet you. Don't worry, I know you won't be back from work until gone 8, so me and Ken will have everything ready. You just come home, shower and change, and we'll bring Susanne round at 9.'
Now Ken was a bit of a hippy, he'd inherited the apartment and saw letting it out as a way of not having to work, leaving him time for his sculpting. Diana was a fashion designer. Susanne was her best friend since school and modelled for her part time. The rest of her time, I found out, was spent being a nightmare.
The dinner party went ok, Susanne was very pretty, very charming and an enthusiastic drinker. When she suggested we all go on to a club, I saw no reason to say no.
Within twenty minutes of getting into the club she was a mess. I don't mind having a slobbering drunk girl groping me in public, but it's a bit awkward when she's trying to start a fight with her own reflection at the same time.
Still didn't put me off her though. So after we'd poured her out of the club and Diana and Ken 'tactfully' said that they were going back to Diane's we grabbed a taxi back to mine. Where after a bit of a fumble she started snoring.
When I woke up the next morning, she'd gone. And so had my wallet and my keys (not that I knew this at that point). I got in the shower.
As I'm drying off the front door opens, it's Susanne.
"TAH DAH! I didn't have any money so I borrowed your wallet. Here it is, and here's your keys, and HERE (with a big cheeky grin) is a bacon roll and some beer for your poor head" And she hands me 4 tins of Stella and a bap.
So yeah, I fell in love. What bloke wouldn't?
We stayed in all day, She went home mid-afternoon and I went into work that night with a smile on my face and a spring in my step.
And got home the next morning to a flat that looked like a warzone.
Susanne was curled up on my bed crying.
I had no idea what the hell she was on about and said so.
Aileen was my boss. She'd phoned the flat before remembering that I was on nights. This OBVIOUSLY meant that I was fucking her. I never did find out just WHY Susanne had come back to mine after I'd gone to work, but as the bloke I already knew that I WAS WRONG. ALWAYS. AND IT WAS MY FAULT.
So, with the pattern established I STILL went out with Susanne for another 2 months.
Why? Because I'm an idiot. A horny LOVELY idiot.
tl;dr: ALL women are MENTAL. ALL of them.
(, Fri 5 Sep 2014, 15:14, 22 replies)
One for Trip Advisor
One Friday night after work I took my girl to Sydney for a romantic weekend away. We got a discount room at a fancy place overlooking Hyde Park.

Well she got food poisoning from dinner.

So instead of going out, we went back to our room to watch Discovery channel as that's about all she was capable of.

We only saw a little bit of tele when the signal cut out. The front desk was not very helpful and somewhat evasive.

We had trouble getting to sleep because of all the trucks and sirens out the front.

Oh yes, figured that out when a voice announced over the hotel PA that the hotel was not on fire "any more".

The room was a discount because the floor above was being renovated. No need to set an alarm, the demolition hammers are complementary.
(, Fri 5 Sep 2014, 13:33, 3 replies)
Painful memories
Back in the old days, before I grew to look like a discarded mattress, I was quite adept with the ladies. Given that I'd had 19 years of miserable celibacy, I was delighted (and not modest) about this.

So one night, bolstered by several bottles of fine brown ale, I boasted that I could bed the next young lady that I saw, regardless of her attractiveness or boyfriend status.

This was before rohypnol, so I was going to rely on my charms.

The next woman I saw was impressively busty and showed a great deal of interest in my sauciness, as indeed was her friend. For reasons that escape me I introduced her friend to my compatriot, Jamie.

One thing lead to another and before I knew it we were in her place, passions running high. Which is when things took a turn for the worse.

Being 19, I immediately set to work on freeing her impressive bazongas. What I found, to my horror, was that her astounding hourglass shape was only accomplished by the application of an industrial strength corset. After a deft move from yours truly, her body was freed of its constraints and returned to its natural shape.

In the dim light in her room she looked like a vast beige sponge, only less sexy than that sounds. I reached out a trembling hand (I assume she thought I was in the throe of passion) and gingerly touched her, finding out that she had the texture and consistency of a felt bag full of vomit.

What was I to do? Well, as a gentleman and a gentleman of 19 years at that, there was only one option open to me.

The next morning I crept from her room, battered and ashamed. I met Jamie on her landing and together we slunk from that Lovecraftian house of horrors and never spoke of it again.
(, Fri 5 Sep 2014, 13:01, 19 replies)
Noctu's post reminds me:
I took this married girl out on a date once. Don't ask, weird circumstances. It was her choice of venue - some 60s themed diner that I'd never been to before. It was a very nice night out (apart from this girl kept vanishing to the toilets more often than was necessary, sniff sniff, say no more) and we had a great time - the burgers were great and the milkshakes were fantastic (although a bit expensive).
There was actual interesting conversation (which she seemed to like), some dancing, which she seemed VERY keen on (must have been the aforementioned comestibles, eh!?!) but she was surprisingly competent, to be honest - and I'm a bit of a mover myself, so I know what I'm talking about.…
As is the way, one thing led to another, and we ended up back at her place.

Her and her husbands place.

Now, we'd had a great time, she was pretty - witty, slim and had a devilish steak in her a mile wide - I fancied the hell out of her! But she was obviously totally off limits - she was married for Christ's sake…and also quite fried (I was a little hammered myself, to be honest).
Could I curb my temptation?
"Did I WANT to?" was the question…
I had to run off for five minutes to sort my head out. I was in there if I wanted! Totally!! But could I / should I?


Turns out that wasn't a problem - when I went back into the living room she had passed out cold - almost dead - literally.
I drove her to a mates who helped out reviving her - but that utterly ruined the night - completely killed it. Still, saved me from doing something I shouldn't!!

Then Bruce Willis machine gunned me to death in his own toilet.
(, Fri 5 Sep 2014, 11:04, 11 replies)
Well, not necessarily gone wrong, but not the best aphrodisiac.
I used to have a habit of never bothering to check what a film was about before going to see it.

This has led to at least 2 first dates not going where they were supposed to.

First one was a cute girl called Lucy who lived in the flat next door. Chose to take her to see Schindlers list.

Also took my Mrs to the cinema on our first proper date, and chose saving private Ryan. The first 10 minutes are less than romantic.
(, Fri 5 Sep 2014, 10:46, 18 replies)
Its almost as if
The mods want to hear more stories about your dirty mother
(, Fri 5 Sep 2014, 10:38, 9 replies)
took a young lady to see Jurassic Park
back when I was in college. Decided to go for a grope, she was up for it, and we were snogging like horny students do in the cinema (yeah gross I know) and stuck my hand up her top and located her nipple and decided to give it a tweak.

After a few moments of this and no obvious reaction, I asked her 'You not liking this?'

She said 'your twisting my tit wart, my nipples more to the left'
(, Fri 5 Sep 2014, 10:27, 6 replies)
blind date party horror
a few years ago, my friend evie decided that a sailing club was a good way to meet men. happily ignoring the fact that she gets seasick in a bath, she duly crashed a sailing club party and she did indeed meet a man.

the first thing i knew about it, i was being told that i had to host a party, so she could get to pull him. my flat was volunteered because it is a good lay-out for entertaining. the sweetener: he had a hot mate that we could invite too. fair enough. and a party's a party. we decided to have a murder mystery party, as we'd never done that before (or since, come to think of it) and togged the whole flat up like a casino. everyone made a real effort, and the costumes were brilliant.

then there was a knock at the door. i opened it. there was a chav standing there in a ripped t-shirt and a baseball cap. this was evie's potential. he barged in, empty-handed, and helped himself to beer in the kitchen. "ahahaha your fridge says SMEG on it. your fridge has got smegma," he sneered. lovely. what a charmer.

half an hour later, there was still no sign of his hot mate, and we kind of needed to start the party. so we started with the ice-breaker, a pass the parcel drinking forfeits game, rigged to let evie get her first kiss. she slinkily sat next to the chav, and i deliberately stopped the music for her on the layer that said "cheeky snog for the person on your right". i thought she'd be pleased. but her face fell a mile. everyone else was clapping and cheering. i couldn't understand why she looked like thunder. until she headed towards me. yeah.... the chav was on her left, and i was on her right... spastic swipe. we settled for a peck on the cheek and much mockery.

then the door went again. i opened the door. there was a grandad standing there, blinking away under a teatowel. he brandished a half-drunk bottle of red wine at me. he smelled vaguely of vomit. after a minute, it dawned on me that this was the hot mate (his character was a sheikh, hence the amazing costume). w.t.f. i took the wine, murmuring, "you REALLY shouldn't have." and he snatched it back as soon as he had taken off his coat.

the actual party went well after that, apart from the fact that all our friends were wondering who these two dirty old weirdos were. and that the two weirdos drank half the booze between themselves. evie, blissfully oblivious, was getting on famously with the chav. my date was limping around complaining that his knee hurt from walking up two flights of stairs and shovelling pizza in his mouth.

at the end of the night, evie and the chav disappeared onto the balcony for a snog. it seemed to be going well, from what we could see of their frantically groping bottoms. we drew the blinds, and everyone was happy. my date was snoring on the sofa. then evie came back in. she didn't look that thrilled. i asked what the matter was. "nothing," she snapped. it turned out that the conversation had gone like this:

evie: so shall we go somewhere more private?
chav: sure. your place?
evie: what about your place?
chav: weeeeell, my girlfriend will be in bed, and she wouldn't really like that...

the final straw was when we woke up the next morning to start tidying up the carnage, evie announced that she had a tennis match at 9.30, and fucked off! there were no second dates.
(, Fri 5 Sep 2014, 10:23, 34 replies)
I dated a medical student for a while
Really nice girl and I was quite keen. In the end it didn't work out, but anyway...

A few dates in, we'd gone back to her house and were getting intimate and she said something complimentary about my wee willy winky. I replied "And I suppose being a doctor you've seen a lot of them?". She said "Yeah, but mostly on dead people".

Bit of a mood killer.
(, Fri 5 Sep 2014, 9:51, 5 replies)
I met this stupid drongo on OKCupid.
He had an awesome swimming pool though.
(, Fri 5 Sep 2014, 7:31, 2 replies)
Two for one. So, about a month after the previous story...
I'd decided that I was being a bit of a cunt, and it was time to lay off the booze a little bit, which meant no more Jagermeister chasers. I was in the pub with my friend Paul, enjoying a soft drink (Strongbow). I hadn't known the guy long, but he was already a good mate; I'm not entirely sure to this day if I was the bad influence on him or if he was on me. He was a bit of a liability at the best of times, and because of that on this particular day he was a bit bruised and tender. He'd tried picking up a mutual friend of ours the day before (in the literal sense), and she'd punched him a few times in various places. It later turned out she'd cracked one of his ribs.

"My cousin Jo's coming down in a few weeks; do you want to shag her?" he asked, out of the blue. I frowned. Even for him this was a little bit unexpected.

"Eh?" I asked.

"Oh, it's alright. I've shown her your picture and she said she's up for it," he told me. "She's down next weekend. I'll tell her you said yes."

Jo came down to visit and was a very pleasant girl. Not quite my type, but good fun and friendly enough. We went to the club that night, and a fun time was had. We got along quite well, and the "deal", such as it was, apparently wasn't needed. She stayed at mine that night, whilst Paul had sloped off with another girl from the club. As all of her stuff was in Paul's flat, the next morning (well, lunchtime) I took her out for breakfast at our local pub. It did a mean all day breakfast. I fired off a text to Paul to let him know where we'd be. He told us he'd just woken up, but would be down in the next half hour.

We made small talk, did the slightly awkward morning-after getting to know each other dance over a couple of actual soft drinks. Everything was going quite well. Both of us were surprised to notice that an hour had passed, and that Paul hadn't turned up. I fired him off another text; he'd fallen asleep standing up in the shower. He'd be down in the next half hour.

My housemate, Bobby, made it to the pub first, having only worked a morning shift. He got a round of drinks in and plonked himself down at the table. He hadn't been out with us the night before, and didn't know that I'd just spent the night with Jo. So, of course, he commenced operation cockblocking bastard, as per usual...

...and told the bacon sandwich story. Then he rounded it off by adding that "Noctu has shit taste in women."

Thanks mate. Thate.

When Paul finally arrived he told us about how the girl he'd taken home had left shortly after getting back to his flat, after having locked herself in the bathroom for half an hour. She'd walked in and seen Jo's clothes strewn all over the floor, a handbag and pair of shoes dead in the middle of the room. Apparently she didn't seem entirely convinced by Paul's explanation of a cousin who'd only come down to visit to fuck his mate and was conveniently nowhere to be seen. She stayed, but when they started to get a little bit frisky and she ran her hands up his back he flinched. Every time she touched him, he flinched, what with the bruises and broken ribs. She excused herself and went into his bathroom, only to find Jo's makeup. She locked herself in for half an hour. Through the door, he could hear her having a frantic phone conversation with her friend about how the guy she'd hooked up with was a "freaky gay transvestite" and she was scared.

Paul never saw her again, and strangely Jo never came to visit again either.
(, Thu 4 Sep 2014, 23:01, Reply)
I sorted a date with nurse.
Day of date:

Several calls saying she was on her way, in 30 min intervals... 3 hours elapsed and i'm sitting in the pub paying my rent in pints. So I get to 6 pints of Tangle foot and just decide wtf i'm in for the long game as people are chatty and just enjoying banter with locals.

She finally arrives, dressed like a hooker from a cheap 80's pron, offer to buy her a drink. She orders a double straight vodka, downs in 1 and vanishes to the bathroom.

5 min later she reappears, with a slight nasal irritation.

rinse and repeat for another 4 rounds, I switched to spirits as the bulk of gods finest was bloating.

Every round, She 'needs a pee', 5 mins and nasal probs.

Get to restaurant, order food. Every 5 mouth mouthfuls 'need a pee' off again to bathroom.

Cutting short as this is as tedious typing as for you reading.

She was bulimic, alcoholic coke fiend.

Back at my flat she was in bathroom on her phone trying to arrange a £250 drop of coke at my address and she asked me if I could lend her some money.

Fuck that...

I recalled her dealer and said I cant pay and neither can she and kicked her out.

Hows that for a first date?
(, Thu 4 Sep 2014, 22:49, 14 replies)

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