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This is a question What was I thinking?

CactusZack tells us: "I stopped dating a girl AFTER she got breast implants. For what reason I do not know, and I still kick myself for this." Tell us about inexplicable decisions that still haunt you.

(, Thu 23 Sep 2010, 11:58)
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what was I thinking........replying in support of a post that denigrated obesity.......on the INTERNET?
(, Thu 30 Sep 2010, 11:57, 1 reply)
Choose your University wisely.
I was an ok student at school, like most b3tans I was intelligent but didn't put in the effort required for top marks in all subjects. I was predicted 3 B's and a C at A-Level.

When we heard that we could take time off school if we were going to a Uni open day my mates and I leapt at the chance and promptly organised a jolly to Essex University in Colchester. After a 4 hour journey from Kent we arrived in Colchester town centre, waited for an hour for a bus that never arrived (we were standing in the wrong place), had a brief look around town, grabbed a Maccy D's for lunch and agreed to lie to our parents and say we had a good look round and it was incredibly worthwhile.

Here's my mistake though... for some inexplicable reason I then selected that University as my first choice.

I promptly received an A, 2 B's and a C which would have seen me scrape into Warwick or York at the time.

My CV says I stayed for 18 months and left due to financial constraints, I actually lasted about 6 weeks before I shacked up with the girl next door in the dorms and got a job in The Link.

What was I thinking?
(, Thu 30 Sep 2010, 11:18, 1 reply)
Water and Gentlemens Gel.
Whenever I have either been pleasured, or pleasured myself in the bath/shower, how come my baby paste congeals in to the most disgusting, glue that has ever existed and takes a significant amount of washing to get out. Usually I end up with crusty pubes for a couple of hours.

And every time I do...I realise why I don't do it that often.

Length joke, or time joke. Both substantial.
(, Thu 30 Sep 2010, 9:29, 10 replies)
financial f*** up
Back in 1994 when the internet was still in its infancy, I had just been made redundant from my now privatised government department.
So I decided to do some contract work for a while till I could find another job, met some really good guys who were in the same position as me and we got chatting about business opportunities.
These guys were going to set themselves up as an ISP provider, they proposed that if I had £10,000.00 to hand I could become a full partner in the business I said I'd have a think about it.
End result I said no "too risky" they said fine, in 2002 they were bought out by a Canadian coms company and each of the founding partners walked away with £10,000,000.00 and would never have to work again.
What the fuck was going through my head!!!!!
(, Thu 30 Sep 2010, 8:58, 2 replies)
I can fly!!!
When I was tiny, and I mean VERY tiny, I was obsessed with Mary Poppins. My mother tells me I watched it at least once a day every day the entire year I was four. One windy day I remember thinking how delightful it would be to fly just like Mary Poppins. I put on my loveliest, flounciest gown (the blue one with little flowers and lots of lace), stole my dad's umbrella and made my way out to the "cliff" which was fortunately neither very tall nor very steep. Actually, it was a small hill. Standing at the top I opened my umbrella, looked out with a smile of perfect faith, and hurled myself forward. For just one glorious moment I WAS flying, with my lace fluttering around me and the wind whipping through my hair! And then suddenly I was sprawled at the bottom of the hill, the umbrella crushed beneath me, my lace smeared with mud and grass, and a huge red triangle missing from my knee where I had struck a rock. I still have the scar.

I can't imagine what my unformed mushy little brain was thinking, but I do remember what it felt like when I thought I was flying. Inexplicable but almost worth it.
(, Thu 30 Sep 2010, 8:57, 3 replies)
Her name is Becky and she's amazing
She was the love of my life and I lost her because of my stupidity and selfishness.
What was I thinking by smoking that shit?
I'm still so sad and I wish I could meet her for the first time again tomorrow.
(, Wed 29 Sep 2010, 23:56, 16 replies)
When you have a wife/husband...what are you thinking?
When you are copping off with someone else...are you thinking how this could end your marriage, therefore causing you financial woes due to divorce [most likely to happen to guys] and rob you of a happy life with someone who used to love you?

Or are you repeatedly telling yourself 'no one will find out'?
(, Wed 29 Sep 2010, 23:24, 8 replies)
It buuuurns, the failure, it buuuuuuurns!
I have a bit of infectedy skin between my little toe and the one next to it. It's a kind of athlete's foot flare-up (ghod knows I'm not particularly athletic, so it's terribly misnamed). It's gone a bit cracked and oozy. Gross.

"I need to do something with that", I thought, "something to clean it up and stop it getting infected."

Hmmm, what have I got that I can put on it? Oh I know, alcohol kills germs, I'll spray it with tape head cleaner.

I hope to fsck it works. It feels like it had better work.
(, Wed 29 Sep 2010, 23:20, 4 replies)
Drunken attempted seduction of a gay man
After my ex hubby and I split up when he fell for someone else , I of course went into the expected "woe is me" mode.
After a week or so of of moping indoors and eating my body weight in comforting carbs, a gay friend of mine dragged me out for a night on the town.
When I say town, I actually mean one gay/drag bar.
After many cocktails and drunken gyrating ( AKA trying to dance in a throng of men) on the dancefloor, I reached the point of 'If I dont go home and lie down soon they wil have to scrape me up off the floor'
After a head spinning giggling taxi ride home, it was decided that he would crash over.
We actually had to help each other brush our teeth.
Wake up in the early hours with something poking into my back
Hmm that nice thinks I , turns over and cops a feel.
There follows a few seconds of drunken fumbling with each other until he fully wakes up and realises its a woman in bed with him.
And he actually fell out of bed in his haste to get away.
After mumbled apologies to each other we go back to sleep
Wake in the morning and do the exact same thing again, this time as we are sober we discuss the possibilities of continuing what we have started, then mutually agree WTF are we thinking!
I did get an honourable mention at his civil partership ceremony a few years later
(, Wed 29 Sep 2010, 23:07, Reply)
Bad day
Many moons ago I was happily working in the stockroom of a shop when I reached a bit too far whilst stacking some boxes on high shelves. During my frantic descent I somehow managed to catch my wedding ring on something hooky, which left me hanging mid-air for a second before I was free-falling again and the bloke who should have been holding the ladder broke my fall. My ring had cut right into the soft tissue at the bottom of my finger, much blood ensued. Being a stoic type at the time I wrapped it up with a cleaning cloth and shortly afterwards headed home. In retrospect a trip to A&E might have been a bit more prudent.

On the way back my ancient Audi's exhaust chucked the latest 'temporary' (8 months) patch on its exhast and I spluttered the last few miles back to Riffjedibaby Villas. One of the very few redeeming features of this former residence was a garage in the back garden with an inspection pit.

After cleaning the finger up a bit and thinking "I should have taken that ring off whilst I had the chance" because the bottom of my finger was starting to swell, I bandaged it up again and put the car in the garage to start working on my latest gun gum/chicken wire/coke can repair.

Half an hour later my latest creation seemed to be holding up but the finger was now swollen and angry and starting to indicate through the medium of acute pain that I should do something fairly quickly to relieve the swelling.

Again, the prudent move would have been A&E but (due to another totally unrelated finger getting trapped in something daft experience) I knew that the fire brigade would inevitably be called to cut the ring off with a grotesque can-opener type device and I couldn't be doing with all the fuss.

So I fetched a hacksaw and secured as much of the ring in a bench vice as I could and started to carefully saw it off.

The ring I mean, not the finger.

Incredibly this did just the trick, not too much self inflicted additional damage and an immense feeling of relief when circulation was restored.

In a giddy whisky and analgesic fuelled mood I stepped back from the bench to admire my home surgery success, straight into the open inspection pit.

As I lay in the oily gunk of the pit marvelling at how much skin I'd scraped off on my second descent of the day, I realised what the inexplicable decision was that brought me here.


Length? Almost 20 years. Depth, about 5 foot.
(, Wed 29 Sep 2010, 22:53, 1 reply)
No, really, I have no idea...
My relationship had gone from bad to worse. It wasn't really a relationship any more, more of a dirty little secret. We didn't live together,(That had become totally impossible, but it's really not my tale to tell) we slept together, he whined about it, and that was that. So here's the last lap then..

He discovered Facebook, and persuaded me to join in. So I did, and every time I added anyone of the male persuasion he'd grill me as to how I knew them, how long for, and did I "Know them" in the biblical, sweaty sense. So I blocked him, and he went mental, calling me at all hours and crying and whining about it all. Then he called me in tears at 3am, apologising, for guessing my password and reading all of my emails. Any sane woman would have called the Police, or at least told him to leave me alone. I'm sure I did try to get him to leave me alone but it didn't happen, for whatever reason.

He gatecrashed a girls night out (not for the first time) and whispering in my ear about my mates giving him evils (also not for the first time). Finally I grew a pair and got out of my seat, caught up with my friends, bid them a good night and caught a taxi. He got into the taxi with me and kept on for the whole journey about how I'd made a show of him because I was trying to cop off with his mate. At the top of my street, I stopped the cab, paid the driver and ran away off up my street. I could hear running feet behind me, I kicked for home, although knowing that I was competing with an international standard athlete (for real! he still coaches children) made my breath catch in my throat and my legs burn, if I could just.. BANG!

The street had gone sideways, my arm and head exploded with pain. The bastard had caught me up, grabbed my arm and slapped me hard around the head (I think, I'm not sure that I stayed conscious) "You're fucking dumped you bitch!" he yelled at my back as I got up sobbing and limped off home. I fumbled in my bag, the front door was opened by my daughter who held me close, then plied me with hot tea until I felt able to get some sleep. And yet I couldn't shake him off. I started to sleep with him again after a few weeks sulking. I encouraged him to see other women, knowing that he'd finally leave me alone. But he failed to find anyone for ages, until suddenly he found someone through his coaching, and I could walk away, all the way away, even though he kept asking me to sleep with him, saying "What are you thinking, it probably wont last with her?"

He now can't understand why I wont stay friends with him, he even shouted down the street at me the other day, demanding to know why I won't speak to him, when we "Weren't even properly together when I started seeing her." I know what I'm thinking now...
(, Wed 29 Sep 2010, 21:29, 11 replies)
"oh for fucks sake ...I'LL PROVE IT TO YOU"

When I was about 13 I got into a heated argument with my best mate.

Not over a girl or money, something far more important...whether or not it hurts to lick a scaletrix track.

I maintained that i would be fine, the voltage would be too low. He maintained that it would in fact hurt like buggery.

The argument got heated until, well read the title

I bent over and jammed my tounge into the grove* of the track.

He was right it hurts. In fact it felt like eating metal wasps, angry metal wasps. lots of angry metal wasps. Arse.

* heh heh hehe heh
(, Wed 29 Sep 2010, 21:12, 2 replies)
I invented my own haircut
Refusing to get my hair cut as a teenager, I found that my naturally curly hair will puff out into a huge afro. This made it hard to see sometimes as my fluffy fringe obscured my view. Not wanting to lose my look by selling out my hair bear bunch 'style' I opted to just have the front trimmed.

That's right I invented the Afro-mullet (TM)

It could of been written off as a bad memory, but like the fool I was I opted to keep that style for the picture on both my passport AND driving license. Now years later every time I have to show either, I have to explain why I thought that was cool as a teenager.

What was I thinking.

P.S. although my passport will expire soon, my driving license will still show me looking like a prize twunt when I am bloody seventy.
(, Wed 29 Sep 2010, 20:42, 7 replies)

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