Best mate's girlfriend
I agreed to take my best mate's girlfriend out for a drink while he went off to a jazz club. On the way to the pub I managed to crash my car so we went back to their place. My mate was still out so we sat talking and ended up kissing, but nothing else. I thought nothing more of it, but she felt guilty and told my mate so after having a go at me he didn't talk to me for a couple of months; which was difficult because we worked in the same office.
(stellarpioneer Beware the fanny-ferret and spaff-badger!, Wed 27 Oct 2004, 13:21, Reply)

dr. evil...
was it bella vista or cioa bellina?

bella vista kicks ass
(notjustahatrack peeling a sausage..., Wed 27 Oct 2004, 12:08, Reply)

Room project reminded me of this
A very early date, I took her to a pleasant Italian restaurant in Blackheath.
Whilst distracted by lovely conversation, and choosing what to eat, I let the menu droop in front of me, forgetting that there is a tea light on the table.
Cue horrid smell of burning and melting plastic and frantic beating out of flames as well as my total and utter loss of any dignity whatsoever.
She is now Mrs. Evil I'm happy to say!
(Doctor Evil, Wed 27 Oct 2004, 11:36, Reply)

Never let your dad set you up on a blind date
Me dad told me about this girl at his workplace who was keen to meet me, he portrayed a picture of beauty, a girl with immense intelligence and humour. Curious, i began to text her and we arranged to go and meet at the nearby cinema. When i saw her i nearly screamed inside, my dad set me up with the dumb elephant man. I spent the whole afternoon with her, myself doing all the talking. When she dropped me home i went upstairs and cried, i was seen out with her in public. Next day i called my dad a cunt. She still texts me now,I SEEN HER BLOODY FOUR MONTHS AGO, ARRRRRRRRGHHHHHHH!


p.s. She was ginger
(graemesdog, Wed 27 Oct 2004, 10:49, Reply)

Most of them are bad
most of my first date memories involve thinking of how I could get a kiss. Then it changed to how I could get some shagging action. This thought process distracted me from things like decent conversation and witty comments.

Eventually i learned that women are more then sex objects, and when you meet the right woman the date goes like clockwork. Sorry to be a sap at the end.
(manny fagnet, Wed 27 Oct 2004, 10:05, Reply)

Hi Mum
Oh dear inactionman, you've reminded me.

Teenager. Living at home. Parents out. Girlfriend in my single bed, I'm busy showing off my fancy tongue-work a bit further south. As I'm a tall guy, I'm kneeling on the floor at the foot of my bed, leaning in under the blankets.

Cue return of mother, who decided she really needed to find me. Bursts into my room to be faced with my hairy arse poking out of the bottom of my bed and my girlfriend's smiling face poking out the top.

Mum: "Oh." Shuts door, never to be spoken of again.
( Udderbelly A tale of four titties, Wed 27 Oct 2004, 9:45, Reply)

Can't remember the name of the bloke but...
Met a guy at local Birmingham rock club (well, it was back in the day...) Snobs, where the foulest vodka in the world is served for 50p a shot which quite obviously leads to embarrasing and awkward situations. Arranged to meet him in my local that week as it was a few days to Valentine's day and I was a bit desperate. Didn't recognise him at first (always a good start) then proceeded to have the worst conversations with him ever. Started with him saying how he didn't usually drink beer because it gave him wind, but that he was going to do it anyway (didn't I feel honoured?). Conversations then ranged awkwardly the only theme being our complete lack of ability to agree on any subject mainly because I found him really annoying...at one stage I found myself defending Matthew Kelly against the peadophilia accusations (why? Just beacuse I felt compelled to disagree with him on every subject...), and the evening culminated in me saying i had to leave (about 30 minutes after I'd arrived) beacuse I had really bad period pains. He was so concerned I felt quite bad about it. But obviously not bad enough to actually stay...
(n1na1sapunk, Wed 27 Oct 2004, 9:43, Reply)

2 stories- i wirite this as i am drunk atm
tonight was my schools unofficial sixth form social.

this means lower and upper sixths under the influence of alcohol. You get the picture. A great night.

Well not for my mate. Hes into this girl, and shes into him. Cept she keeps going away and gettin off with other guys. me, being the nice guy i am try to play cupid and get these fuckers together. No fucking way, if they see each other they have an arguement, and if i try to get them to come over is ends up costing me money. eg "buy me a drink and i'll go talk to him" They do, but she blows him off saying "its not my fucking loss". *NB*Shes my art teachers daughter!!

end of that story then, we're plannin revenge on the bitch atm. Shame that Q's already bin asked

I had a brilliant night tho.

* at the end i got a lift home off some friend of a friend. my mate was in the front seat, where i was in the back. My mate blew chunks. out the window. At 60 mph. I got covered. But as i handle my alcohol so well, i thought it was hilarious and threw some of the chunks back at the fucker. My mate in the other side of the car started laughing then threw up as he did so. Im just on the comp after runnin round my mams looking toilet roll and plastic bags to try and clean up the vom. *

good shit! second post! WOO
EDIT- In hindsight i realise this is my 12th post and this post was mostly about some other guy... enjoy it anyway people!
(istoleapig, Wed 27 Oct 2004, 2:22, Reply)

I had been going out with this girl for a few weeks
but i decided it was time to end it. I texted her and asked if she would meet me on a bridge in an isolated part of the countryside. When I broke the news, she started crying, so I beat her brains out with a rock and fucked her corpse.

apologies for length
(Sir Tomalot: Don't look at my profile, you'll go blind, Wed 27 Oct 2004, 1:27, Reply)

not happened to me...
but it sucks when you have a blind date and they come in see you and leave
(nigger kid, Wed 27 Oct 2004, 1:17, Reply)

met a woman
at a party, got on really well, got her number, arranged to meet up for a drink. I turn up to the pub early, start warming to the dutch courage, chatting b*ll*cks to the barstaff, waiting for this woman to turn up.. I'm stood there, well into my third pint when someone taps me on the shoulder and says 'Are you ....?'. There's this woman stood there, not the one I'd arranged to meet, so I cagily say 'yeeees...'

She says 'well come and sit down then'. A little bemused by this, I follow her over to a table where another woman and a bloke are sat. She interrupts their conversation and says 'this is ... and by the way, X sent us along tonight to meet you.'

Scarily I thought 'f*ck this' and sat down, had a damn good laugh with them, but funnily enough never saw X or her mates again....
(noodledoodle really shouldn't share his humour, Wed 27 Oct 2004, 0:11, Reply)

Bad dates have consequences...
I met a really beautiful girl whilst out for a drink with an ex at a jazz bar (she was an ex when these events happened).

Saw her across the room and had all the soppy stuff I'm not going to discuss. Suffice it to say I employed the tactic of talking to her mates. After a while of continued exchanged glances etc. she stood in the middle of the dance floor, look at me and gestured me over.

Obliging (of course) we dance away and she tells me I'm a really good dancer. At the end of the first song I do the 'throw' (where you hold them and they throw the head and shoulders back). Sadly, I hadn't factored in the big metal chair she banged her head on into the equation.

Feeling mortified, even though she was laughing through the tears, I begged her for one more dance. She said yes and we danced really well together, until I span her and got her hair caught in the sleeve buttons on my jacket. It literally took us a few minutes to extricate ourselves and shortly afterwards she took my number and left.

Suffice it to say, she's made my life a living hell for the last year or so and continues to make me pay for that crap first evening by nagging me, dragging me round shops and insisting that I cook for her every now and then.
(Mattyboy, Tue 26 Oct 2004, 20:47, Reply)

suppose it wasnt my worst date, but it might have been hers
There was this girl from where i was working at the time thinking she was a witch with common quotes of "i'm real goffic rite" so i decide one day i had enough of it and invited her out on a date to one of my regular haunts... A club renound for its alternative crowd from emo-kids to full blown romantic goths with music to match. Within half an hour of arriving shes hiding in a corner, after another half an hour shes begging to go making random excuses, she heads off and i stay to the end.
Next time i see her at work shes back in full townie clothing and actually whimpers every time me or my mates talk to her, i heard from one of her friends that i had taken her to some kind of brothel/rave/slaughter house/shit scary place full of weirdos and freaks that wanted to kill her.
*sigh* i love scaring wannabies
(Voidedge, Tue 26 Oct 2004, 19:42, Reply)

The Art of Dry Paint
Was drunk when I met a girl in a club, had a dance, a kiss and exchanged numbers. Speak to her next day and agree to go to the pub. Remembered her as being a lovely hot blonde, but the beer goggles effect was on full - she turned up kinda scruffy lookin', unfortunate facial moles/spots and not as trim as I remembered. Thought "OK, Let's just see how it goes."

She found out I worked in Computers and spent the whole evening talking about them with me nodding in a docile fashion (I don't talk about my programming job because I know it'll bore people to death). Turns out she was 33 (I was 23 at the time and thought she was about 21 on the night) and had been in a car crash that affected her short term memory - she could only remember people if they told her their full name. Spent the whole night absolutely bored s**tless and amazed that she started going out with her ex-boyfriend 13 years a go (ie probably before my balls had dropped).

Needless to say, left it at "I'll call you" and fled into the night - luckily I never told her my full name...
(Ludokan, Tue 26 Oct 2004, 19:38, Reply)

for a worst date, you've sure
made the most out of it!!
( stevierar, Tue 26 Oct 2004, 18:51, Reply)

My worst date
9/11/2001
(G W Bush, The White House, Tue 26 Oct 2004, 18:29, Reply)

50 First and Last Dates from Hell!
Never internet date, and never date anyone from work. I've had to learn the hard way. 42 year old, fat, nerdy, awkward married men will tell you they're hot, young, athletically fit single studs. And guys from work will stab you in the back later.

I've also had my share of losers, first dates that never turned into second ones. There's the bonehead Sven from Germany who was 6'4" and built like a toothpick and had the personality of one. Then there was the fatass middle aged loser who lied to me about basically everything. I get trapped into going out to dinner with fatass, then we go to a bar where good ol' Sven is sitting two people down from us. I chat up a nice English guy and Sven stomps over and says, "You never called!" I say, "that's because your'e a LOSER!" Sven scowls at me and skulks out, the door hitting his flat ass on the way before I could issue the cliched warning. Pudgy married guy(who I didn't know was married till some other girl told me weeks later) patiently waits for me to finish my conversation so I can go to another nightclub and try to get some of the HOT, YOUNG CUTE guys, unbeknownst to him.

Last but not least, there was the 200 lb plus tobacco chewing bully with bipolar disorder. He only lasted one date too. He thought it was sexy to slobber his spit and tobacco juice all over my privates and RUB it in! It took a week to clear up the infection, from both his hellspawn spit and his presence.

Gah, where have all the GOOD ones gone? I'd be happy just to have a mentally stable one.
(moonfire38, Tue 26 Oct 2004, 17:42, Reply)

El Flambé!
As a precursor to an actual date, I was having a meal with my now current girlfriend Hannah and her mate Matt at a Lloyd's Bar.

Being the easily amused students that we were, we had ganked a quantity of free boxes of matches. This factor of free matches plus a simple nightlight on the table added to our amusement. Many matches later, and the whole thing was a bit worryingly firey.

Being the safety whizz that I was, I tried blowing out the candle, only to knock it over sending a stream of fire and wax shooting across the table, and unto the shirt of her friend. Luckily he was able to put out said fire, but I got burns to my hands trying to pick up what remained of the nightlight case.

As he didn't hold being set on fire against me, Matt is (and will remain) the nicest person in the world. I did eventually sleep with Hannah, after weeks of horrible blistering burned fingers. So it all worked out in the end. Huzzah!

Ps, don't play with matches. It's not down with the kids, yo!
(roomproject, Tue 26 Oct 2004, 17:12, Reply)

oh... bumbletrumps
A couple of years ago I'd managed to snag myself my first boyfriend and was quite pleased with myself. One night, while at his house, parents out and all, we were kissing as couples of our tender age often do. He slides his hand to my 'feminine place' or 'front bum', if you will. I stop him and say 'no', because I was experiencing the monthly joys of period..ism. However, he didn't seem to quite snag this concept and proceeded to cry. Yes indeedy.. How he cried. I explained that I was on and that was the reason, but he insisted I was lying and making excuses. I denied this again, so he asked to see evidence.

Taxi!
(iheartyourmum, Tue 26 Oct 2004, 17:08, Reply)

Why do they do it to me?
I have a thing about Art Girls. I hate them, but I am also generally enraptured by them and their "different" ways. I end up with them. In fact, as I sit here in uni, I am wearing a (home-made) T-shirt that simply states: "Art girls". I think that it says it all.

Anyway, as the summer of 2004 rolled slowly on, I started a new job in a bar/club in Leeds. There was a girl there that I fancied, and we seemed to get on well and share quite a few interests. As the weeks progressed I seriously began considering asking her out - a big thing for me because I get really nervous around girls even though I'm generally loud and outspoken at most other times. I never had to do this because she got my number off one of my friends from work and began to text me.

To cut this short, things evolved and SHE asked me out (if I'm honest, I slackly refused the first request; an almost cheeky test to see how far I could actaully push her) and she actually texted again and said "PLEASE come to the pub now, THOM!" so I said yes and ran there as fast as I could.

We talked, and she drank water (I had to point that out before you all incinuate the obvious) before I walked her home and picked her a red rose on the way. We ended up kissing and hugging on her doorstep for half an hour, as the lights of the city twinkled below us. I would also like to mention, that I popped a finger into her pussy.
She explicitly told me that she really liked me, had done for a while and would definitely like to see me again.

I got in touch a couple of days later, and she said "Sweety, come round to mine this evening."
I was well 'appy, as i obviously began to envisage my dick cummin in 'er cunt that night. I went round, and when she answered the door I attempted to hug/kiss her, which she rejected. Damn, i thought. I had just been cruelly snubbed at the first stage of my proceedings. Now she full knew my intentions, and the ball was in her court.

We did not progress to her room. We sat in the living room with her freinds that I did not know. we smoked skunk that did not lubricate the conversation...it in fact did the opposite. They chatted about people that I did not know amongst themselves and used a strange form of code/made up language to do so. This was weird, i thought. But I did not have the courage to leave. To much attention would have been drawn to me. Eventually conversation dried up completely, and to make matters worse, a crazy french exchange student that was sat with us started laughing at the silence, then proudly proclaimed "It's so funny that you guys are not talking!".

Everyone left, and we sat next to each other. The tension was warm and suffocating. It was probably how I'd imagine being inside a balloon feels. In one last gasp attempt to salvage some form of sex from this ordeal I began to stroke the tattoos of stars she has down her lower spine. This, was wrong. I could feel her gently shudder as I did so, and not with passion: with repulsion. I said something lame that still makes me cringe, like : "Such pretty stars, do they have names?" before cutting my losses and walking home. I tried to kiss her on her doorstep, but she flatly turned her cheek.

Things were very awkward in work, and she ignored me totally. Just as we had begun to patch things up she sends me texts saying "I guess you think I'm after you now" and the like. I was drunk and said

"As if I want to be friends with someone that doesn't fancy me anyway, freak. Beeeatch!!!"

It was over. We never spoke again and she left work.

I do it to myself. I should have known. And now I shall always remember what i already knew:

ART GIRLS.
(Tommy B!, Tue 26 Oct 2004, 16:59, Reply)

Captain Narco.
i was at a party in Turnpike lane. chatted to a girl in the kitchen - Pr type - she nattered on about her travels til i could slide her off for some rudeness.

get her in my mates rank room (mine was occupied at the time).

i manage to get her undressed and manfully whip on a condom...i lean forward...Captain priapic
..and fall asleep.
face first.

i wake up in the morning, with condom hanging limply with a mild notion of asking for some morning rumpy when she pipes up 'this place is a shithole'and promptly leaves after taking 15 quid for a taxi.

the worst thing was that i decided to ring her a few days later. she said that she was watching the football.
forever.
ho hum.
oh, and i had fairly bad 'bachne' at the time which she'd been looking at for most of the morning.
(fistianus, Tue 26 Oct 2004, 16:41, Reply)

Foot In Mouth Syndrome
Had a nice date with someone back in my teen years, it was our second or third I think, and we were snuggled on a sofa. He said he felt 'loved up' and I said i felt the same. Now my adolescent head meant that i felt happy etc. He actually meant in a very roundabout way that he loved me...and to him my agreement meant I loved him back. Argh! Didnt realise until a mutual friend congratulated me the next day as apparently the bloke i was seeing was over the moon about it. I dumped him that afternoon :)
(Mogg Questioned her own sanity on, Tue 26 Oct 2004, 16:22, Reply)

never do the boss
if he is older than you and f'ugly but for some reason you've talked yourself into it.

especially when he commits the following crimes:

1 pulls out a red scented condom
2 can't quite get it in
3 gets it in and puts his hand over your face
4 lasts about 45 seconds
5 pulls out, looks at his own red condom in horror and says "are you on?"
6 gets up and walks out

fantastic fun facing him on the monday morning as well.....
( rachelswipe with a fork, Tue 26 Oct 2004, 15:23, Reply)

It's hard being new
And thank you naive amoeba.
( Brown cow, Tue 26 Oct 2004, 15:02, Reply)

I like to think...
of myself as a trendy kind of guy. last year I went through a phase of big shirts, big collars and huge cuffs.
Before meeting fit new gf in restaurant I decide I need to have a bit of a clearout. Went to toilet and complely forgot about aforementioned cuffs. Wiped my arse and met gf who went on to ask me "what's that on your shirt?"
You get the picture.
I'm not sure I got off with the excuse of chocolate but she was very polite about it.
Just goes to show some people have just got style.
(I've done it so many times it's boring now..., Tue 26 Oct 2004, 14:52, Reply)

i have great 'good date tales' but only one slightly shit one..
whilst working at a part time job when i was about 17, i really liked this girl, good old manager sets me up with her. my parents were usually out on a friday so i suggest she come round. i cook a huge fuck off meal. i go to meet her, dawdle around on the way back and on arrival it transpires she had not considered for a moment the possibility that i might make the effort and cook her something. it also comes to light that she is meeting some friends in a little while? i walked her back to where she was meeting her mates and decided to get pissed with mine. embarrased? no, FUCKING EMBARRASED.
she was really nice and a couple of years older than me but i was so pissed off i never asked her again.
didnt put me off older women though, mid 30's boys, that's where it's at.
(incredible wrongun, Tue 26 Oct 2004, 14:52, Reply)

Oi, littlerichardmustache (Moustache has an O in it BTW)
The stories aren't necessarily funny, it's just about whether they're interesting or not. Frankly, I find that reading about people who have failed miserably in their love lives rather hilarious! =)


Not forgetting it's also like a soap. MV's story has sadness in it, but it turns out well in the end!
( Naive Amoeba Bored Cig, Tue 26 Oct 2004, 14:45, Reply)

More drunk than sense.
This isn't technically a date, but it's probably the most humiliating romantic experience I've ever had besides my other post (Twelve other people).

Every Saturday me and my mates used to go to Camden Town and hang out. Now, I had this mate there, let's call him Jim. I'm of the bisexual variety for those not in the know. Anyway, me and Jim were a flirtatious pair of eggs. We'd kissed a few times and stuff. But I think we both knew it would go no further.

Anyway, one week he brings along this lass - let's call her Michaela. Me and Michaela flirted outrageously and kissed\felt up one another a lot. But so did her and Jim. It was full-blooded competition as to who could pull who - one of us was going to get left out in any case. Anyway, at the end of Week 1 I was far and away ahead.

Week 2 rolls around. Me and Jim meet again, and he's got no interest in me. Bollocks. I gravitate to Michaela instead, and drink heavily. "You must kiss me for I am lovely!" I proclaimed (says my mate). "I'll kiss you," says Michaela "If you'll eat that ant." This was when all the flying ants were about. I shrugged. I put the ant in my mouth, bit it, and swallowed.

Twelve ants later and I was still waiting for my kiss.

Anyway, a mate of mine is offering me a drink so I go to him and take it. Michaela runs off to Jim, nicks a cigarette, lights it. Pins him and starts making out with him. I feel sick when I see him visibly aroused with who I drunkenly thought of as my woman, so I go up to him and ask where the fuck the toilets are around here. He doesn't answer, as he has a mouthful of her tongue. Nobody else I know is about and these two won't stop making out. I insist, I need to find a toilet and I have no idea where one is. Michaela stretches her arms off to get off of Jim, presumably to help me.

The hand she had the lit cigarette in ends up in my eye, which is, fortunately, closed.

I had a scar for about three weeks. It hurt to blink, but it hurt even more to explain.
( Reid got it going on like Donkey Kong, Tue 26 Oct 2004, 13:55, Reply)

Sairfend
Might as well break the board virginity as it seems to be the topic for it.

This story tags on to the end of a "vomit" story I should've posted on a previous thread. One of those kind of nights where you find several of your own boundaries. Coming from both directions.

Anyways... My mate and I had pulled two girls whilst out in Nylon in London. It turns out one of the main reasons for them coming back with us to perform various lewd acts was because my mate had promised that we'd drive them back to Essex the next day. Sweet girls... I didn't discover this 'til the next morning when he was claiming to be ill and unable to drive. Well there was no way I was letting the cheeky git offload them onto me to sort out so we came to an arrangement that I would drive his car. We'd had some good banter with the girls and I was pleased to see that mine actually looked quite pretty in the cold light of day (unlike my mate's - ho ho!) Anyways, we get into sunny Essex and I'm thinking at this point that she's actually quite a sweet and good looking girl and I might actually ask her for her number. We start to drive through Chav Central. Or Vange as it is called locally where I start pointing at the burnt out cars by the side of the road, rusting washing machines on driveways and the various scrubbers who are plying their trade at the side of the road. "Please can you drop me off here" she says. Oh. She even forced her mobile number upon me but I was so bloody ashamed (and rightly so) that I couldn't bring myself to call her.

On a related note her dad was called Kevin...

Dan
( dan j the filthy bastard, Tue 26 Oct 2004, 13:44, Reply)