My Worst Date
I have horrible memories of a blind date where, desperately grabbing something at the last minute, I wore an enormously long scarf so she'd recognise me. I looked like a twat, it was clear she thought so too, and we stood saying nothing for 15 minutes in a pub before running away.
What's your worst date experience?
( , Fri 22 Oct 2004, 9:59)
I have horrible memories of a blind date where, desperately grabbing something at the last minute, I wore an enormously long scarf so she'd recognise me. I looked like a twat, it was clear she thought so too, and we stood saying nothing for 15 minutes in a pub before running away.
What's your worst date experience?
( , Fri 22 Oct 2004, 9:59)
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so very wrong...
Back in the mid-90s heyday of running my old mobile disco, I pulled some girl at a party I was playing at. She made it very clear she was up for some action, but of course at the age of 18, I was still living with my parents, as was she. This problem would normally be solved by going for a little drive in the country in my trusty Talbot Horizon, but the car would be full to the rafters with disco kit at the end of the night. The only thing we could do was go for a little walk after the party.
We end up in the doorway of a village church in the middle of nowhere. I'm attempting to go down on her while she's getting a cold arse from the damp stone floor, but we're both basically having a good time, that is until a bunch of drunken chavs wander through the graveyard and start shouting at us, and we both leg it out of there. We get separated somehow, and the night ends with me spending an hour hiding in somebody's garden, while said chavs spend an hour wandering up and down the road trying to spot me. Fun.
Amazingly, I meet up with party girl about a week later, and this time I am prepared. Dad's a vicar, so I know the house will be empty for a good couple of hours on sunday morning.
Cut to my bedroom, and some quality time spent fumbling around in that inexperienced adolescent way that I'm sure we're all familiar with. It's all good, until I realise to my cost how time flies when you're having fun, and I can hear mum approaching the bedroom door! Party girl hides behind the door, and I attempt to put my trousers on. Mum walks in, and in hindsight I wish she'd spotted the girl, rather than find her son alone in his room, sweaty, red-faced, and attempting to do up his jeans in a hurry. 'Nuff said.
It gets worse. I discover the next day from mates that she's only fifteen. Worse than that, she's only JUST fifteen. *shudder*
Please address any correspondance to the Gary Glitter & R. Kelly fanclub.
( , Tue 26 Oct 2004, 12:33, Reply)
Back in the mid-90s heyday of running my old mobile disco, I pulled some girl at a party I was playing at. She made it very clear she was up for some action, but of course at the age of 18, I was still living with my parents, as was she. This problem would normally be solved by going for a little drive in the country in my trusty Talbot Horizon, but the car would be full to the rafters with disco kit at the end of the night. The only thing we could do was go for a little walk after the party.
We end up in the doorway of a village church in the middle of nowhere. I'm attempting to go down on her while she's getting a cold arse from the damp stone floor, but we're both basically having a good time, that is until a bunch of drunken chavs wander through the graveyard and start shouting at us, and we both leg it out of there. We get separated somehow, and the night ends with me spending an hour hiding in somebody's garden, while said chavs spend an hour wandering up and down the road trying to spot me. Fun.
Amazingly, I meet up with party girl about a week later, and this time I am prepared. Dad's a vicar, so I know the house will be empty for a good couple of hours on sunday morning.
Cut to my bedroom, and some quality time spent fumbling around in that inexperienced adolescent way that I'm sure we're all familiar with. It's all good, until I realise to my cost how time flies when you're having fun, and I can hear mum approaching the bedroom door! Party girl hides behind the door, and I attempt to put my trousers on. Mum walks in, and in hindsight I wish she'd spotted the girl, rather than find her son alone in his room, sweaty, red-faced, and attempting to do up his jeans in a hurry. 'Nuff said.
It gets worse. I discover the next day from mates that she's only fifteen. Worse than that, she's only JUST fifteen. *shudder*
Please address any correspondance to the Gary Glitter & R. Kelly fanclub.
( , Tue 26 Oct 2004, 12:33, Reply)
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