What was I thinking.
I was 13 years old. It was New Years Day. My folks always went to my Uncles for a party that evening. I loved these occasions, I got to stay up late, talk to my older cousins (which instantly made me feel cool and erudite) and take some records to play.

But this year was to be different. SHE was there. A neighbour's daughter. My Uncle immediately sensed my awkward fascination and kindly introduced me to the warmest most beautiful smile in the universe. I was in love. For hours we talked and laughed, oblivious to the dull grey world around us. She was incredible. A teen Aphrodite. A wildfire had been lit. We had everything in common. Where had she been all my 13 years? It turned out she was 15 (older woman, I could handle that) and a teen model no less who’d been on the cover of magazines! My head was swimming. I felt like I had pulled Heidi Klum. Still trying to impress I was working my way through the few crappy records I had brought, then I pulled out my ace card… Relax by Frankie Goes to Hollywood, oh yes! Now to be fair this requires some backstory...

I had first seen Frankie Goes to Hollywood perform Relax on the Tube earlier that year. I loved it. When the single was first released it didn’t do much but for months I had been championing this track as THE BEST THING EVER RECORDED. This was long before the ensuing controversy and radio ban. As far as I was concerned it was underground, I was a visionary, an auteur. I alone had made them.

She loved it, we bonded even further, I was dizzy, discombobulated. We would be together forever. A love like ours would never ever die. But, eventually she had to leave. Like a gleaming knight I rose to the challenge to walk her (the few hundred yards) to her house. We kissed, the stars shone brighter, angels sang. I took her number and called the following day. We arranged to meet that Saturday at midday, outside the Virgin record store on Renfield Street in Glasgow.

After a few millennia Saturday came. Like most teenagers I was going through a phase of trying to look 'different'. I had planned my outfit days before. To make matter worse this was also the early eighties and styles were, well, a bit shit. To put the tin lid on it, my Mum had also sprung it on me I had to look after my 8 year old sister that day.

Never-the-less I arrived on time. The January sales were in full swing, the street rammed with shoppers. There I stood resolute, proud, erect (yes quite possibly that way too) being jostled by shoppers on that fateful, crisp winter's day. She was 15 minutes late. No worries. Then an hour passed. Still I stood there expectantly, full of hope and joy and dreams of our future.

Now, I don’t know if this proposed mother to be of my children simply stood me up, but looking back, I reckon this is a far more likely scenario…

She got off the bus that stopped right outside the store, took one look at this spotty teen (with bored a 8 year old girl in tow) sporting a wispy bum fluff moustache, a shiny grey suit complete with red leather bow tie and a carnation, yes, a fucking carnation! Then, like any right minded individual quietly slipped back into the crowd and FUCKED RIGHT OFF.

What the fuck was I thinking.
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Tue 8 Jan 2013, 14:45, 19 replies)

When I was 16,
I used to go out with a girl called Nicky. Not for long though, she used to have the occasional cig from the local shop who used to sell them separately for 12p each to kids. Consequently her breath smelt a bit and I used to avoid kissing her and so she dumped me which was disappointing, not least because she would often stick her hand down my pants. Well I say dumped me, she got her best mate to do the dirty work for her. I never liked her best mate anyway, she had a face like a stamped bat, blind in one eye, smelt like unwashed cock and generally had a personality that brought out my inner Sutcliffe.

I tried to find out what was going on, but she avoided me all day. So that night, after drinking heavily all evening I went round her house, broke in through the kitchen window and went to her room and wanked on her face. I then went into her parents' room and then wanked on her mum's face. Nicky came staggering into the room. But because I'd given her a proper Velma she didn't realise who I was.

"Dad!" she cried. "Not again"

But it wasn't her dad, because I had raped him with a rolling pin before beating his face into the shape of a wok and kicking a biro into his ear, because he was a cunt. Even though I'd never met him.

"It's not your dad, it's me! Unghh!" and I tipped my filthy concrete onto her mum's face who orgasmed so hard she jumped off the bed and landed on top of the wardrobe. I then wiped my cock on Nicky's hair, taped over all her DVDs even though they hadn't been invented yet before going home, setting fire to their garden shed on the way. When I got home, my dad was waiting for me. He said "Well done son, here have a bottle of whisky, and a medal." because my dad's ace like that. And my mum is too, but she was in bed because she'd had a hard day inventing the Sega Megadrive.

Anyway, when Nicky came into class the next day, I was in the middle of a mass orgy shagging all of her mates; even her best mate, the cycloptic fucking ogre that she was. She called for the teacher, but I kicked him so hard in the tangerines that it lifted him off the floor. Apparently at the hospital later that day, his bollocks were hanging out of his arsehole because I'd kicked them so hard.

Within five minutes, I had been expelled from the school and was being escorted off the premises by special forces who had been called earlier just in case, so I nicked the headmaster's car, converted it into a rocket and blasted off into space and nuked Nicky's house from orbit. I then fell out of space and crashed into the school turning it into a big crater, and then the world exploded and my head fell off.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Fri 4 Jan 2013, 12:35, 30 replies)

I had a 2-year relationship
with the most beautiful, charming woman I've ever known. She was smart, witty and into all the same stuff as me. When we broke up it was funny. Wait. Not funny. The other one. Harrowing.
( Ambegris likes his tea stirred anti-clockwise, Tue 8 Jan 2013, 16:03, 13 replies)

It's not something I like talking about
But BraynDedd stole my Woman.

I wouldn't have minded only I hadn't finished reading it
(Brigadier an old boot sitting on a man's face - forever, Thu 10 Jan 2013, 12:42, 10 replies)

Not what she was expecting...
After the beginnings of the recession, my girlfriend and I had to leave our flat and move in with our respective parents again. Unfortunately, my girlfriend of 3 years couldn't get a job in the barren wasteland that was oop north, whereas I quickly found agency work with long hours and shit pay.

We made occasional trips to places, she came down for a couple of weeks at a time, only returning north to sign on again. I only went to her place once in our entire relationship - her family were not normal, but that's not for this qotw.

Anyway, I soon found my eye wandering, she was out of sight and mind for weeks at a time, apart from the the odd telephone call, there was little preventing me from seeing this lovely lady round the corner. After a kiss, things got a little serious, I weighed up the options and decided to do the honourable thing and go up to see the soon-to-be ex.

I needed to do it now, 'cos next weekend it will be her birthday and you don't want to be a douche and break-up with her on her birthday.

What I missed completely was that it was the middle of February, the only day I could go up was Saturday. The 14th.

I've got a pretty good memory with public transport, so even though I'd only taken that trip once, I knew which bus and vaguely the right stop. I saw the Chinese take-away place we went to on the corner and remembered how grim everything was up north. This was her road alright.

What I'm useless with are door numbers.

So that's how I ended up outside my girlfriend's window on Valentine's evening, break-up flowers at the ready and called her asking her to look out her bedroom window.

(Not only did this help confirm it was her house, but also checked if she was actually home so I didn't have to talk to her parents at the door)

Oh man. She was so happy for like 2 minutes tops.
(MrTeapot hasn't played with himself since, Thu 3 Jan 2013, 21:46, 6 replies)

Another tenuous - if not completely unconnected - connection, so fuck you:
When they were courting, my dad took my mum to the cinema to see The Girl On A Motorcycle.

My dad absolutely hated it.

Eventually, at one point in the film, the girl says crossly "Well I'm going for a drink!" and my dad go up in the cinema and stormed "AND SO AM I!" and walked out, with my mum scuttling after him.

With that, the lady was his.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Tue 8 Jan 2013, 8:18, 11 replies)

It doesn’t matter how you dump someone. The thoughtless dump by text message gives the dumpee something to focus on, other than the fact that you don’t think they’re good enough to be in your life anymore. I dumped my first girlfriend by visiting her at work and slipping a tenner in her g-string with the words “I’m not sure this is working for me” written on it.

If I ever dump The Lovely Mrs Ring of Fire, I’ll feed the dog a length of plastic tape with the message written on it, so it’ll emerge from the animals arse like an old fashioned news ticker.
( Ring Of Fire A petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Thu 3 Jan 2013, 16:28, 4 replies)

First date.
I'd just passed my driving test and a girl at work asked me if I wanted to take her to the cinema. Keen to get my end away I obliged and the following Friday tried my best to clean out the bashed up Fiesta and off we went.

We arrived late, got some popcorn and drinks and headed into the screen where the film had already started (lights dimmed, trailers running). It was pretty packed but I spotted two seats near the back and began climbing the steps as quickly as I could... Unfortunately, in my haste my foot got caught on the step and I tripped, throwing popcorn and a full cup of Fanta all over a woman in the middle row.

The audience erupted with laughter as I tried my best to apologise to the drenched woman and her scary husband and my date offered to go to the toilets to retrieve some paper to dab the poor lady dry.

After about 45 minutes of stifled laughter and stares from the other cinema goers it was pretty clear that she wasn't coming back...

I still asked a member of staff to check the toilets before I left, just to make sure she hadn't actually been shunting out a particularly troublesome arse cactus throughout the film (which was wank).

Cheers.
(TheHunchback, Sat 5 Jan 2013, 13:16, 2 replies)

I was in hospital for 12 days recovering from a nasty leg operation/penis bleeding to death incident.
Everyday my girlfriend came to visit me for hours and was a real comfort. Everyday she told me how she couldn't wait until I came home. 12 days later I hobbled through the door on my crutches, with my top to toe plaster cast and catheter bag strapped to my leg (see Blood QOTW from 2008) and found out why she couldn't wait for me to get home.

She had moved out.
( Peej, Thu 3 Jan 2013, 16:25, 1 reply)

Masterclass Dumping

A long time ago I had a girlfriend who was, technically, still married - though separated.

They had got married on Valentine's day, ahhh, how romantic. Even more romantic, it just so happened that that day was not just his birthday, but hers too. Wow, a combined valentine / wedding anniversary / double birthday - this is getting into Jennifer Anniston RomCom territory! I'm not sure that even Hallmark make a card that soppy.

So. Guess which day she chose to dump him and move out?

.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Thu 3 Jan 2013, 15:33, 44 replies)

How would you make films better? Here is my list for how I would make Star Wars better.
1) Change the title back to 'Opal Wars'

2) The gold robot can transform into an F-15 jet and fire missiles out of his fists

3) The Death Star has David Bowie's face and sings 'Starman'

4) To make his lightsword come out Luke has to shout thunder, Thunder, THUNDERJEDI! HOOOOOO!

5) Hans finds Leah being molested by a wooky and shouts "GET YOUR STINKING PENIS OUT OF HER YOU DAMNED DIRTY APE"

6) Luke finds out that Artoo is his robot son that he made by accident when he tried to get a free curly wurly by sticking his winky in a vending machine.
( 2 Can Chunder Word to your mums, I came to prod bums, Thu 3 Jan 2013, 13:57, 4 replies)

I went down the dump yesterday afternoon.
As a twenty-something I still get as excited about going to the dump as I did when I was five. "Why?" you may ask.... Because the dump has fucking DIGGERS. Do I really need to say any more?
(The Oscillating Gibbon is eating curried squid, Fri 4 Jan 2013, 20:22, 4 replies)

Warning- Story contains most romantic gift ever:
a crate of whine.
b3ta.com/links/916247
( Tab Hunter Make this useless process end and so, begin again, Thu 3 Jan 2013, 16:47, 7 replies)

Duck (Scary) vs Wonder (Stevie)
I spent a small fortune pursuing a girl called Debbie (the same Debbie to whom I once sent an ill-adivsed mix tape). She had a bit of class, worked in a bank and I quite liked her brother. A small fortune, not to mention the (temporary) loss of my best friend, with whom I came to blows over her affections. Eventually, after a number of chaperoned pub nights and knackering walks in the countryside (also chaperoned), I finally hit pay-dirt when she agreed to come to a concert with me. Fuck, yeah - Ultravox, the cutting edge of early 80s electro-pop, and I got a peck on the cheek at the end of the night after delivering her safely home.

Then came the killer blow - she invited me into her bedroom one afternoon, and instead of the expected squirm on her floor, Debbie treated me to a note-perfect tiddly-plonk rendition of Stevie Wonder's "I Just Called To Say I Love You" on her Bontempi organ, before telling me that she wanted to spend more time learning middle-of-the-road Bomtempi organ classics and less time going out with me. No time at all going out with me, it turned out.

Dumped, and back to the wanking and crying.

I look back on this experience with my words at the time still going through my head: "Fuck you, Wonder. Fuck you."
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 3 Jan 2013, 13:10, 4 replies)

Another kind of dumped, but it still ended the relationship
Way back when I was a spotty teen at college, there was a very attractive Iranian girl who I liked. I wasn't much use at chatting up, and to be frank I reckoned she was waaaaay out of my league, but amazingly I seemed to be making some progress. She was interested in the fact that I rode a motorcycle, so I plucked up the courage and asked her if she'd like to go for a ride. I couldn't believe it when she said yes!

I had visions of a gentle ride through the countryside, perhaps stopping at a pub for lunch. I also had other kinds of visions, which were threatening to poke holes in the fuel tank. This could be the start of something, I thought, as she swung her long legs over the seat and her arms snaked around my chest - she actually seems keen on me.

She wasn't so keen when I hit a patch of gravel leaving the college car-park and dumped the bike, simultaneously cutting her leg and burning it on the exhaust...

Shortest date I ever had, I reckon.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Mon 7 Jan 2013, 16:41, 5 replies)

“What’s the worst that could happen?”
I replied, to EVERY single person a spoke to. Because every single person I spoke to asked the same question:

“Don’t you think it’s a bit soon?”

I met the girl just after my birthday at the beginning of June. We met in a bar and she was in a relationship at the time. She initiated the whole thing by discreetly slipping me her number. From that point it was all a whirlwind. Meeting up secretly in supermarket car parks etc.

About 2 weeks later she finished her chap and began a relationship with me. Now I had heard all the jokes about bunny boilers and always told myself that I would see the signs. The reality is that the really mental ones are so mental that they seem totally normal until one day they just pull the rug from under you and you end up in twelve pieces inside a bin liner.

And so it came to be that after 2 months together, I had booked a holiday with her. A whole week on the island of Kos. Just me and her. Departing on our 3 month ‘anniversary’

Digressing slightly, she had chronic asthma. One of her lungs had collapsed during a serious asthma attack and she apparently only had partial capacity in one lung. She had tablets to take every day, plus inhalers and a machine that connected to a mask that people in hospital have when they need oxygen. I don’t really have any knowledge of things medical, so I was a little concerned about what to do if she should have an attack whilst we are abroad. She explained that she would be bringing all the medical equipment so it was ok.

What got me worried was that within 2 hours of arriving she had decided to buy a pack of cigarettes and started smoking around 20 a day. I expressed my concerns and in her defence I suppose I did get on her case about it, but I’m sure you can appreciate my anxiety.

The first 3 days were great and I was completely head over heels in love.

The next morning after a night of heavy drinking and filthy sex, the love of my life and I went down to the pool to relax. It wasn’t long after that she began feeling ill. Going through her symptoms it was clear that she had sun stroke. I sent her off to bed and went out in search of water and lucozade – the internationally recognised cure for such an ailment.

I administered the treatment and decided to read a book on the balcony in case she needed anything. A few hours later she felt better, but seemed to be angry with me. “What the fuck have I done?” I politely enquired. “You’re smothering me, I need space” was the response.

And with that, she got dressed and went.

Rather than chase after her I decided to send a text, again enquiring as to what the fuck was going on. Her reply was basically that she had decided that she had made a mistake and she didn’t want to be with me. But that she wanted to stay friends.

At the time I blamed myself. And I was upset. I can’t explain what happened to me, but I genuinely believed that I was at fault. She had befriended some people who were working there over the summer. For the remaining 4 nights and 3 days my holiday followed the same pattern:

5am. Wake up to the sound of banging on my door. Open to let pissed up psycho in who promptly went to bed.

11am. Psycho wakes up, gets showered and goes out for the day. Regrettably, I was still trying to win her over, and spent the day by the pool or in my room.

7pm. Psycho comes back to room, gets showered, tarted up, and goes out for the night.

This continued until we left for the airport. She barely spoke 2 words to me all the way home. It was only once I had got back into my house that reality set in and I realised how angry I should have been.

In the end she got back with her ex, and then once she got bored began trying to get back with me, only to be told to go fuck herself.

Apols for length. The story is 100% true and it’s the 1st time I have ever shared it. The events above happened 3 years ago and I haven’t seen her in a year or so.
(Frample Tromwibbler climbs an obstacle like old people fuck, Sat 5 Jan 2013, 20:55, 21 replies)

colin
aged 13, i was dumped by a boy called colin. it was very public, he stormed up to me in the playground and shouted "that's it! i can't put up with you any more! you treat me like dirt and i'm sick of your games, we're through!"
after treating him like that, you may think i deserved to be dumped. thing was, as colin was usually very shy, he'd never spoken more than 2 words to me before. he'd certainly never asked me out. it's quite bizarre to get dumped by someone you didn't know you were going out with.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Fri 4 Jan 2013, 14:07, 5 replies)

I told your mum.
'I'll never get over you'.
So I got up and went round.
( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Thu 3 Jan 2013, 22:58, 17 replies)

"It's not you, it's me",
She said just after she'd dropped the bombshell that she was leaving. This was around midnight, after I'd turned down a night out with some mates and stayed off the beer all night in order to go and pick her up from her friends house.

Turned out she was right; it wasn't me who'd been shagging someone else for six months. So at least she was being honest on that score.

On reflection, my reaction at the time should have transcended the metaphorical kick in the testes I'd just received and instead of begging for reasons why, I should have just said "Well, if I'd have known you were going to come out with that I'd have got pissed and you could have fucking walked home, then".

Still, she died nearly three years ago, so I got the better end of the stick in the end. Plus, the missus has better tits.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Wed 9 Jan 2013, 18:32, 24 replies)

Could be awkward
The following is a conversation between a good mate of mine and a girl who thought they were in a relationship:

Him: Look, I am NOT interested in you. I am NOT going to have a relationship with you!
Her: Why? What have I done? What's wrong with me?
Him: Nothing. But I'm gay.
Her: No you're not!
Him: Err...yes. Yes I am.
Her: How do you know?
Him: Because I'm shagging your brother.

Apparently it cast a pall over Christmas ....
( Undercovercarrot got done for gross misconduct on..., Tue 8 Jan 2013, 21:18, 3 replies)

Oh, Cherie...
Cherie was her name... well, I thought it was, but I'd misheard her. It was Sharon. I saw her every morning on my way to work; she walking, me cycling past. One day I plucked up the courage to stop and talk to her; a few days later (unbelievably), she phoned me! We arranged to go out...

A few more days later, we went to the pub, where we sat and passed a couple of excruciatingly awkward hours with me trying to find things to talk about and her replying with a shrug of the shoulders and "I dunno" - even when I asked her what she wanted to drink... I may have actually manned up for a second and said "You must know what you want to drink!"... but I probably didn't, so scared was I of offending this (quite sexy) lady.

A few days later again, and I invited her round to mine for a few drinks and maybe watch a film or something ("or something", eh? Nudge nudge wink wink, say no more guv'nor!). Sadly, in the afternoon beforehand I made the mistake of eating a whole bag of dried apricots. By the time she arrived my guts were rolling around and grumbling like Gimli in a tumble-drier.
My planned evening of film, drinks, snog and maybe more actually became an evening of film, sweats, running to the toilet for another fizzy apricot bum-gravy episode, hoping it was the last, only to repeat a few minutes later.

She left when the film ended. At the door, I asked "Shall I call you?"

"No, I don't think so" came the predictable answer. I was well and truly dumped.
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Sat 5 Jan 2013, 20:50, 5 replies)

Give it time to sink in.
A couple of years ago I was in a long-distance relationship with a girl who was a gooey centre of kindness coated in a crispy shell of nutter. It wasn't going so well, and we arranged that she'd come down for the weekend so that we could Talk and Sort Things Out. This turned out to be the prelude for some carefully-reasoned dumpage, which she took grumpily but stoically at the restaurant table.

As I was seeing her to her train home a short while later, she fainted right in the middle of the concourse, prompting the thousand-or-so bystanders to stare at me as though I had just decked her with my invisible Fist of Doom.
( .Yeti. El amor en los tiempos del cólera, Fri 4 Jan 2013, 11:10, 2 replies)

I went out with a girl from Sunderland once...
...she wasn't actually from Sunderland, but she was going to University there.

As long-distance relationships sometimes do, it all went tits up and I phoned her to tell her it was all over. She was remarkably sanguine about it all, even going so far as to say "Well yeah, I'm a bit disappointed, but I'm not going to let it ruin my life or my degree, so don't worry it's all cool". This from someone who two days previously had been telling me how I was the first person she'd ever loved and how good our life together was going to be once she'd finished Uni.

Anyway, that all went far more easily than I expected so, mightily relieved, I went out for a few beers. The following morning I had a text:

"Ah man, I had a really weird dream last night, that you broke up with me, lol wtf? Hahahaha, love you xxx" (Or words to that effect)

So then I had to ring her and explain that yes, actually I *had* broken up with her and it wasn't a dream. Cue ten minutes of crying, wailing, pleading, recriminations and all the stuff I'd been expecting when I first made the call...
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Thu 3 Jan 2013, 23:41, 4 replies)

Mostly in life so far I've been the dumpee...
... hopelessly sticking it out in relationships that clearly aren't working, usually (but not always) discovering by one means or another that they've been hiding someone else's sausage.

However, my most recent relationship was different. It was long distance, which I could handle, and she was absolutely lovely, which I could very much handle, but she seemed to spend about 40% of the limited time we had together questioning why I would ever want to be with her, telling me it wouldn't work, and assuring me that she had no intentions of ever coming to live near, much less with me and was in fact actively trying to get a job in another country. And for a while, that was fine, because she was funny and gorgeous and kind and incredibly sexy and actually fancied me (which was a major ego boost after an extremely unpleasant and soul-destroying previous couple of years).

But after a while it got to be wearing, and I figured this time I'm not going to stick it out way past the point where it's obviously over, this time I'm not going to sink deep into this thing so when it ends it's hell, THIS time I'm going to cut out early and end it. And she cried. And I left. And she phoned me a bit. And I came back. Then I left for good. And she phoned me a bit more. Nothing stalkery, just wanting it not to be over. But I couldn't speak to her, so all our final communications were just text, until after a few days she said she gave up. And months later I'm still left wondering whether I did the right thing.

One thing I did learn, though, is that while I know from repeated experience that getting dumped sucks, it came as quite a shock that doing the dumping is as painful as it is.

Sorry for lack of teh funneh.
(SonofRojBlake, Thu 3 Jan 2013, 20:13, Reply)

I think she was just looking for an excuse
So way back in college I had my first proper Girlfriend and things were grand. The only thing that I annoyed her about was my hair. It was just above shoulder and curly but hey I was a student.

Then one day after getting off the bus feeling like crap I went to meet mates in the pub. Not having time to shit shower or shave I just pulled my hair into a ponytail and headed to the pub.

After a number of pints she walked in seen me and instantly froze. She headed to the girls room and came out and straight over to me.

"can we talk"

and that was that me putting my hair into a ponytail made a girl break up with me.

Oh well guess it was for the better in the end looking back now, A virgin she claimed yet a fist could fit in quite easily!
(Samantha Bricks Better half done a poo on, Thu 3 Jan 2013, 14:17, Reply)

Here I sit.
Broken hearted.
Wanted to shit.
But only farted.
(ParaSitius is an Optimistic Pessimist, Wed 9 Jan 2013, 13:09, 10 replies)

waste not want not
My 1st long term girlfriend dumped me on the day I had gone to her house with a bottle of champagne.

So I sat in the park next to her house and drank it like a posh tramp
(sittingduck Attention seeking, bullshitting fuck-knuckle, Wed 9 Jan 2013, 11:59, 8 replies)

I was in hospital for a minor operation the other day, and all the different sections were named after English public schools.
I got put into a ward in Eton Wing. Wait. Got that wrong. The other one. Harrow Wing.
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Wed 9 Jan 2013, 8:15, Reply)