Partying! Drinking! Failing miserably!
It was a while ago now, and I regret to say I've not got much better in the flirting department. Someone else here mentioned they were all easy conversation, jokes, urbane musings and general pleasantness with a pretty girl, until receiving word the girl though he was a bit of all right. Then he turned into a gabbling, blushing, awkward pile of nervous sweating and inappropriateness. That describes me rather well.

Anyway, I was at a survey party for a radio network I used to work for. Twice a year, surveys would go out to listeners all over the country and the results pretty much dictated the viability of your product. Good results and the sales reptiles would sell a shitload of ads, meaning loads of revenue for the station and fat bonuses and golf club memberships for them. Bad results and revenue would be down, fewer ads would be sold and the reps would have to take up ping pong or something. It meant very little for a newsmonkey like me, apart from a twice-yearly free pissup at a local bar. Do well and celebrate - do badly and we'd drown our sorrows. Win win.

I'd collected one of my female colleagues along the way and we'd arrived as the party was in full swing. We sauntered to the bar and she pointed out one of the fridges behind the bar was full of our favourite brew.

"Whaddaya reckon, can we get through that before the end of the night?"
"Fuck it, let's give it a nudge," I replied.

Now, this isn't going the way you might think.

Time passed. Much beer was drunk. I remember standing at the bar. Actually, standing is being generous. If the bar hadn't been there I doubt I'd have been vertical. A Girl brushed past me on her way to the bathroom. The bar was crowded so I thought nothing of it. She brushed past me again on her way back and this time I paid her some attention. I can't remember exactly what she looked like - dark hair, big brown eyes and slim, I remember that much. My type. Lovely.

As is often the case when you're properly, teeth-floatingly wankered, my brain quickly switched onto another, completely unrelated topic. Lego, or Metallica, or Famous Grouse - something like that. The Girl brushed past me again - only this time, she took her sweet time. I clearly remember feeling her breasts pushing into the back of my arm as she trailed her hand suggestively across my lower back.

"Hmm," said Rational Brain. "I think she's into you."
"Fugginshuddupcunt, whatever, more whissssshky, she's just an ordinary girl trying to make her way to the bathrooms in a crowded pub you pissed fucker," said Drunk Brain.
"You know, you really should listen to me," said Rational Brain.
"...I've got nothing, but you haven't finished your drink..."

The Girl slid her way past me a fourth time, this time squeezing my hand as she did so. I followed her across the room with my eyes and she turned and stared at me as she reached the door. She gave a sort of half-smile before turning and walking out.

"Fucking get after her, you dozy wanksock!" cried both my brains in unison.

I left the safety and support of the nice solid wooden bar and pinballed my way across to the door and half-stumbled, half-fell down the stairs to the street, where the Girl was sitting on a bench with a couple of her friends. She watched with horror as I proudly regained my feet and stood there, swaying like a pendulum, looking for all the world like standing upright and unassisted would be my Greatest Achievement Ever.

Her and her friends scuttled off down the road towards the taxi stands while I stood there feeling like, well, that drunk bloke who's just seen what he thought was a sure thing leg it.

Shitwitches.

*Edit - I've removed the previous stuff because I've had enough of being made to feel a cunt for something stupid I did eleven years ago. Shouldn't have posted it in the first place and I will think rather more carefully about the content of any future posts.
(dhroadie, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 22:22, 7 replies)

you
are a very lucky monkey
(iamjthearmeroar, Fri 19 Feb 2010, 3:39, closed)

Erm,
I'm afraid this story does not paint you in a good light. At all.
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Fri 19 Feb 2010, 9:15, closed)

"so I did what any sane pissed-up 22-year-old bloke would have done"
I think not. But I shall leave the public lynching to others.
(Vice Admiral Sir Charles Cockbrush KCB MBE DSO, who is finding it increasingly difficult to log into b3ta.com wants to duck your aunt and kick your puppy, Fri 19 Feb 2010, 9:59, closed)

In his defence he's a Kiwi
they don't have many people in their country so if you drive home drunk, since you're in the car, there isn't likely to be anyone else within a 50 mile radius so the only thing likely to die is a wandering sheep.
(Bazongaloid, Sat 20 Feb 2010, 17:58, closed)

Yeah...
It certainly wasn't my finest hour and remains to this day something I look back on and regret. It does serve as a reminder - nearly 10 years later and I've had a few, I consider how to get home and always remember that night and how fucking daft it was.
(dhroadie, Sun 21 Feb 2010, 22:49, closed)

you realise he is taking the piss right?
driving home drunk, especially that drunk, is fucking stupid.

you dumb cunt.
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Mon 22 Feb 2010, 9:36, closed)

Coming to this late
and didn't read the original. And yes, pisstake as per off-topic.

But that is the attitude in some places, like one lovely Scottish island of my acquaintance. There is one pub (not really a pub, it's a bar at a hotel). Some of the houses are 10 miles away. So people occasionally get shitfaced and drive. If they have an accident, it involves ending up in a ditch and writing their car off.

The population of the island is 110, of which probably 50 live in the village where the hotel is anyway. Your chances of hitting anyone at 11pm are infinitesimally small, especially given that the islanders know that anyone driving at that time is quite likely to be drunk and will walk out of the way. The (part time) policeman gives people a telling off when they trash their cars. That's it.
(Guy Debord cette mauvaise réputation..., Tue 23 Feb 2010, 19:49, closed)

You're a fucking idiot
and have no originality.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Mon 22 Feb 2010, 7:53, closed)

Oh, he was taking the piss? Thanks for pointing that out, Captain Fucking Obvious. I await with interest your next pearl of wisdom.

I bet none of you have ever got drunk and done something you regret which turns into a life lesson. So get off your high horses, you judgemental, supercilious pricks.

Yes it was stupid. Yes I learned a valuable lesson. No I have never done anything of the sort since. We learn more from failures than we do from successes - and this is the best example of this I have.
(dhroadie, Mon 22 Feb 2010, 21:36, closed)

Don't get huffy
Mr Original...
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Wed 24 Feb 2010, 9:50, closed)

I was going to do a mini-flame for the driving thing....
... but that seems to have been pretty well covered. Rest of story was good to be fair. Funny, well written, if painfully familiar.
( kappynitty doubled your entendre on, Mon 22 Feb 2010, 15:35, closed)