I was the "dumper", I had the last laugh and I got to (kinda) roast a pea
but it was not because of something I had done.

I had broken up with my girlfriend whom I shall call Tonia (she was a bitch) and the blokes I had been hanging out with decided that they would rather be friends with her than with me.
That included my former business partner - let's call him Dick. I strongly suspect that a couple of these fellows had sexual relations with Tonia after we had broken up. That may have been uncomfortable for them knowing that her & I had previously had a sexual relationship.

At the time I was looking for a housemate. A young man moved in (I'll call him Dumpster because his surname is similar to that word and he really belongs in one) and then after a few months he moved out having not fully paid his share of rent. He was aided and abetted by my former business partner (Dick) in moving out.
Because of that my best friend (I'll call him Ron, as in "Later Ron ", it's a joke) decided to steal some marijuana plants that Dick (my former business partner) had been growing.
Ron then sold me those dried marijuana plants at a VERY cheap price. Over an extended time frame.
Ron only told me about 6 years after the fact. He died about 2 years ago.
So my final sentence is a hypothetical comment to Dick - I really enjoyed smoking his marijuana, with my friend Ron. & I hope he continued trying to woo my former girlfriend - Tonia, because I know that she wouldn't find him attractive. In any way whatsoever.
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Thu 10 Jan 2013, 8:02, 18 replies)

The very last words I ever said to her were "Well, if that's how you feel then maybe you should fuck off to your mother's."
So she did.
Four days later I got divorce papers through the letterbox.
( blaireau69 , the Cumbrian Travis Bickle., Thu 10 Jan 2013, 1:29, 14 replies)

After a particularly bad argument
over the correct use of her time whilst she wasn't in gainful employment , I was suddenly on the wrong end of a sharp carving knife. I instantly smashed her over the noggin with my pewter tankard.
She was forgiven almost instantly for the almost stabbing but she had to go.
Bitch made me spill my beer.
(shake'n'bake Tally Ho, Biatch!, Thu 10 Jan 2013, 0:57, Reply)

Urban myth number 347 - Or maybe true
There goes a tale in the place I grew up of a young lady who prior to indulging in a bit of horizontal folk dancing would require her partner to take a dump on her chest and then smosh it about between them while they engaged in their rumble of affection.

On one particular day, the young man could not hold on to his steaming load and had to deposit it in the more traditional way at his home in a toilet.

Upon arrival at his lover’s shack of scat, he was encouraged to begin the ritual of love with the traditional shitting on his bird. Unable to fulfil her request due to the vacating his bowels earlier, she burst into tears and exclaimed,

“I knew it, you’ve been cheating on me” then proceeded to dump him on the spot.
(bad_advice QOTW survivor from the first trollocost!, Thu 10 Jan 2013, 0:18, 6 replies)

divorced and loving it!
I took on the whole responsibility thing very early - got together with a single mum when I was 19, got married, had two more kids. People used to tell us we inspired them to be more together in their relationships. As far as I was concerned I was in love and always would be... 18 years on, she ran off with another bloke. I spend the first few months utterly heartbroken, then thought: 'hang on a minute, this is a get out of jail free card!' and have been loving my life ever since. My kids are happy and I'm happy. Not so sure about my ex but hopefully she'll be ok in the long run. Not everything is perfect by any stretch, but a year and a half later I am still so, so glad she did it! I've even thanked her for having the courage to end the relationship when I couldn't see what was wrong with it...
(teasus likes tea, Wed 9 Jan 2013, 23:16, 10 replies)

I once put my winky up a girl but then she said I couldn't put my winky up her anymore so I went and found a new girl who would let me put my winky up her and this cycle repeated a few times and now I put my winky up a girl.

( BraynDedd Natasha Kaplinsky's labia majora, Wed 9 Jan 2013, 22:54, 13 replies)

I'm sorry Jenny but we have to split up
I just can't take you seriously when you go cross eyed doing your cum face.
(magic the cat will someone please think of the kittens, Wed 9 Jan 2013, 19:37, 6 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)

Slightly relevant
A dog has just had a massive dump right outside the front door to my place of work, slap bang in the middle as you walk out. It's fucking disgusting.
(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Wed 9 Jan 2013, 15:09, 3 replies)

We broke up
I fucked off to australia.
( epiphany coming live from sweden, Wed 9 Jan 2013, 14:24, 14 replies)

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 live near Harrow.
'tis alright, not much ing going on though.
(ParaSitius is an Optimistic Pessimist, Wed 9 Jan 2013, 11:47, 2 replies)

So we were walking down by the river the other day and saw boats on the water.
My friend was all "look, sculling!" Oh wait, no, the other thing "Hey, rowing!"
( Kroney, Wed 9 Jan 2013, 11:43, 1 reply)

I'm doing a shit as I type this.

(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Wed 9 Jan 2013, 11:13, 1 reply)

I was in a Chinese restaurant,
and told a joke about taxi drivers going to Harrow. The wait staff were a bit frosty with me, after that, and I found the whole experience to be rather, er, oh, fuck it.
( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Wed 9 Jan 2013, 10:00, 2 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)

and another Pea # 2 - The foolishness of youth
The foolishness of youth

It was night and outside, there fore it was also dark, and the teenage bad advice was camping with 100’s of other teenage people. Most satisfyingly, around 30% of them didn’t have willies and where rumoured to be of those mythical beings, TEENAGE GIRLS!!

The young people had travelled from all over the state to attend this bloody great camping extravaganza and much mingling was had. Late on the second night gathered around a random campfire, the very social and horny (that horny feeling only a virgin teenage male can know) bad advice was making friends with a bunch of lads from a place far far away from his home. He had chosen to make friends with this group as they had in their crew girls that where only their friends and from simple observation it appeared no one was attending their crutch caverns.

One talkative spritely young thing made a general announcement that she need to “go wee” but, didn’t want to go by herself as she was scared of the dark. As her dude friends suggested she take a torch or just fuck off in general (they where not nice boys I started to think) she appealed to bad advice to escort her to the camp area set aside for abolutions. And because he was toeyer than a roman sandal and prepared to take any and every possible chance to be in the single company of a female, he agreed.

As they trotted along the darkened bush path she gibbered at a 1000 miles an hour on random and unconnected subjects until arriving at subject of watching people piss (oh, for she was all class). A proposal was made by the bearer of nubile young breasts that if she could watch bad advice drain the vein, she would let him watch her twinkle tinkle.

After a stunned grunt in the affirmative, they stepped off the track into a small clearing and bad advice produced what to this point had only been hand cranked and released the yellow stream.

“It’s too dark” she exclaimed, “I can hear you but, I can’t see you, let me shake it for you” clearly she knew how this process worked. Her arms encircled his waist and gripping the root of the love muscle proceeded to give it a shake that sprayed drops of bladder juice in a 30 meter radius and near detached it from the body but, after a few seconds of shaking, the internal inspector rose to full and glorious attention in her nimble hands to be rewarded with a few fast yet jerky pumps. She stepped out from behind him and her shadowy outline was visible in the dark, the sound of her zip resonated amongst the tree’s and she crouched down and then a whistle of water under pressure through a small opening played like music to his ears but, she was right, it was too dark to see much more than outlines.

“I forgot the paper” she giggled naughtily.

“I have a tissue you can use” offered the iron rigid bad advice.

“I should just wipe it MYSELF?” she asked, with a slight harshness sneaking into her previously light sing song voice.

“well it’s not going to wipe its self now is it” offered the very logical yet very stupid bad advice, while wondering how he could ‘bust a move’ on this possibly interested sweet young thing.

She arose from her crouched position, pushed the now damp tissue back into his hand and strode back to the path and back to the fire, her fear of dark seemingly evaporating in the heat of her, in bad advice’s eyes, unexplained anger.

I often think back to that dark night of camping and sometimes I ponder what might have been but, generally, I think to myself, you stupid stupid stupid stupid boy.
(bad_advice QOTW survivor from the first trollocost!, Wed 9 Jan 2013, 4:41, 22 replies)

I was 15. Her name was Myrna.
She was a girl I had never seen before that came up to me in the school library. She knew who I was and thought that we should get to know each other better. I thought she seemed to be a sweet young thing, but she dressed like Sunday school and had a friend who looked like nothing else but a troll.
I tried to politely put her off, but she persisted and suggested we go to a movie, on her dime. I countered with a restricted movie, but somehow she talked her straight laced parents into it. Her father had to be coaxed up from the basement."You think this is a good movie?" he asked me with a sidelong look. I assured him that Easy Rider was critically acclaimed. It certainly was educational. The sex in the graveyard bit saw me through many a lonely night.
On the ride home with my stop was approaching, I thought about seeing her home and having to take another bus back. Not for long though. "This is my stop," I said "it's been peachy."
Sorry Myrna, but you did learn the value of keeping clear of assholes. Some women never do.
(the other guy not the one that gave you coochie warts, Wed 9 Jan 2013, 3:18, 2 replies)

It's time for a pea - #1
Wrong Answer
She was lovely, the type of girl I dreamed about. Smart, sassy, pretty, energetic and loved an extended rumble between the sheets.

Things were progressing well, meeting respective parents, first long weekend away together doing interesting things and having that crazy monkey sex you only get when a relationship is new and fresh.

On the last night of our little sojourn away together, we had dinner in a nice restaurant and had light and funny, yet painfully truthful conversations about funny things from our pasts. Somehow the convo got around to someone having cheated on one of us and the appropriate tut tutting from the other (I can't remember who was the cheated and who was the tutter) when she looked at me wistfully and asked,

"If you cheated on me would you tell me"

"NO WAY!" I replied,

what was I thinking? "I would never cheat on you" or "if I was so stupid to do this I couldn't live with the guilt" or even, "would you tell me".

The relationship sort slowly disintegrated after that, a few weeks later she gently dumped me, said she just didn't think she could trust me.
(bad_advice QOTW survivor from the first trollocost!, Wed 9 Jan 2013, 2:52, 1 reply)

My Norman ancestors went up North for the holiday. Wait. Not holiday. The other one. Harrowing.

(Elephant Balderdash attempting to bottle the absurd, Wed 9 Jan 2013, 2:33, Reply)

I was once breaking up the soil to plant root vegetables. That was ploughing, no wait, harrowing.

( Dr Preference AjcuiVd289, Tue 8 Jan 2013, 23:17, 1 reply)

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)

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)

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)

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)

I dumped her body in the ocean.
Now she sleeps with the fishes, instead of my friends.
(Elephant Balderdash attempting to bottle the absurd, Tue 8 Jan 2013, 2:16, 2 replies)

Stuck in the Scheisse
I once met a german girl who was backpackining around Australia, and we spent a couple of weeks sightseeing and screwing in the southwest.
About a year later I was travelling though Germany on my way to Denmark, and decided to look her up in the town in the hills outside Cologne where she lived.
It's hard to say whether she'd changed in the last year, or with the backpacking I was only seeing one side of her (most likely the bottom half), but this time she seemed both possessive and wierdly paranoid. After a week I'd done the mental arithmetic and decided that the sex wasn't worth the crazy, so I announced that I was leaving, saying it was fun but I needed to take the train to denmark in time for a festival (a lie). She went through this gamut of emotions quite rapidly before my eyes: first shock and disbelief, then crying and moaning in German, then angry yelling at me calling me all sorts of ugly things. You should bear in mind that this is a woman I'd had no more than 3 weeks casual sex with and made no commitments to. After this she suddenly composed herself and was all smily as if nothing had happened.
The next day came and I asked to be driven down to the town (about 10 km away) so I could check timetables and buy my ticket. She said she would do this for me when she went to buy food, but when she returned she said she didn't have time but would do it the next day. The next day came and the same thing happened. I got a bit more insistent, and said I wanted to be taken down the next day. She put me off all day, and when she did take me to the station it was closed.
I was starting to get a bit freaked out, she was acting more and more erratic with a real touch of madness behind the eyes and in her voice. She kept talking about where we could live when she finished her law degree, as if this was the big decision facing us. When the next day came and she claimed her car wasn't working, I realised she wasn't going to let me leave. The next morning, I waited to she was in the shower, quickly packed my bag, and walked out. And walked. And walked. It wasn't until my train was pulling away from the station that I relaxed.
( cumquat may will not be commenting further on the allegations, Mon 7 Jan 2013, 19:22, 26 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)