Desperate Times
Stranded in a hotel in an African war zone with no internet access for two weeks, I was forced to resort to desperate measures. Possessing only my passport and the clothes I stood up in; and the warning "You can catch it shaking hands with a vicar out there" ringing in my ears, I had to draw my own porn in order to preserve my sanity.
Alas, it all came out looking like Coronation Street's Audrey Roberts, but, as they say, any port in a storm.
What have you done in times of great desperation?
( , Thu 15 Nov 2007, 10:10)
Stranded in a hotel in an African war zone with no internet access for two weeks, I was forced to resort to desperate measures. Possessing only my passport and the clothes I stood up in; and the warning "You can catch it shaking hands with a vicar out there" ringing in my ears, I had to draw my own porn in order to preserve my sanity.
Alas, it all came out looking like Coronation Street's Audrey Roberts, but, as they say, any port in a storm.
What have you done in times of great desperation?
( , Thu 15 Nov 2007, 10:10)
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In a time of great desperation not very long ago, I signed up to... *gulp* an internet dating-site.
Not, I hasten to add, a site for dating internets; a site on the internet for meeting similarly desperate wastrels as myself.
Anyhow, soon after I joined up I encountered a beautiful lass about the same age as me (let's call her K, for that was her initial), who was not only good-looking (and had full-length pics to prove it) but had a similiar sense of humour and was absolutely filthy on the inside with a shy, quietly-spoken exterior. My kind of lass indeed! Soon after we started talking (and making each other laugh a lot), we met up for a drink in a nearby town (she lived about five miles up the road from me.)
The occasion was no disappointment, even though it was slightly awkward - until we'd got a few drinks down us. She was everything she said she was, and then some. She was a self-appellated freak, albeit a beautiful one (like that song by the Eels.) And so far, she's been the only person I've met who can make two entire armfuls of tattoos look sexy. Although not a roaring success, I regarded that date as an honourable draw. The only real occasions on which alarm-bells sounded were when she let slip that she'd given her number to two different blokes on a drunken night out a couple of days before, and when she was discussing the attractiveness of her male colleagues. Oops.
Not long afterwards, I suggested going out for another drink. Her enthusiasm seemed to have waned somewhat, as she initally agreed readily, then kept putting it off - i.e. blowing hot and cold, so I'd no idea of what exactly was going on between us. The second time this happened, I lost my rag a bit, a heated exchange occurred, and we never spoke again.
And now when I hear that song "Beautiful Freak", it just reminds me of my own capacity for acting like a twat, and my lack of faith in the opposite sex.
Sorry this story's not funny, I just had to get it off my chest.
( , Fri 16 Nov 2007, 14:05, 3 replies)
Not, I hasten to add, a site for dating internets; a site on the internet for meeting similarly desperate wastrels as myself.
Anyhow, soon after I joined up I encountered a beautiful lass about the same age as me (let's call her K, for that was her initial), who was not only good-looking (and had full-length pics to prove it) but had a similiar sense of humour and was absolutely filthy on the inside with a shy, quietly-spoken exterior. My kind of lass indeed! Soon after we started talking (and making each other laugh a lot), we met up for a drink in a nearby town (she lived about five miles up the road from me.)
The occasion was no disappointment, even though it was slightly awkward - until we'd got a few drinks down us. She was everything she said she was, and then some. She was a self-appellated freak, albeit a beautiful one (like that song by the Eels.) And so far, she's been the only person I've met who can make two entire armfuls of tattoos look sexy. Although not a roaring success, I regarded that date as an honourable draw. The only real occasions on which alarm-bells sounded were when she let slip that she'd given her number to two different blokes on a drunken night out a couple of days before, and when she was discussing the attractiveness of her male colleagues. Oops.
Not long afterwards, I suggested going out for another drink. Her enthusiasm seemed to have waned somewhat, as she initally agreed readily, then kept putting it off - i.e. blowing hot and cold, so I'd no idea of what exactly was going on between us. The second time this happened, I lost my rag a bit, a heated exchange occurred, and we never spoke again.
And now when I hear that song "Beautiful Freak", it just reminds me of my own capacity for acting like a twat, and my lack of faith in the opposite sex.
Sorry this story's not funny, I just had to get it off my chest.
( , Fri 16 Nov 2007, 14:05, 3 replies)
So basically...
You disappointed her IRL, and she wasn't really as keen after that. Sounds like a bit of a whore too, and you still failed. Or perhaps just accidentally succeeded by evading the AIDS. Who knows.
( , Fri 16 Nov 2007, 14:50, closed)
You disappointed her IRL, and she wasn't really as keen after that. Sounds like a bit of a whore too, and you still failed. Or perhaps just accidentally succeeded by evading the AIDS. Who knows.
( , Fri 16 Nov 2007, 14:50, closed)
No consolation
but keep well aWAy from them sort old bean,although pitty you didnt get a shag out of it.
( , Fri 16 Nov 2007, 15:12, closed)
but keep well aWAy from them sort old bean,although pitty you didnt get a shag out of it.
( , Fri 16 Nov 2007, 15:12, closed)
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