Flirting
Do you flirt with check-out girls just for the heck of it? Are you a check-out girl and flirt with sad-looking middle-aged men for fun? Are you Vernon Kay? Tell us about flirting triumphs and disasters
Thanks to Che Grimsdale for the suggestion
( , Thu 18 Feb 2010, 13:00)
Do you flirt with check-out girls just for the heck of it? Are you a check-out girl and flirt with sad-looking middle-aged men for fun? Are you Vernon Kay? Tell us about flirting triumphs and disasters
Thanks to Che Grimsdale for the suggestion
( , Thu 18 Feb 2010, 13:00)
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bricking it
this is more about someone flirting with me, albeit in a very strange way.
when i was but a wee smash, there was a lad called matt who lived in the same street as me. he would occasionally say hello, then immediately turn crimson with embarrassment. i was fairly sure he liked me, he just didn't have the nerve to really speak to me.
one day, matt's friend - i forget his name - said to me "matt wants you to meet him by the bin sheds." classy, eh?
i went to the bin sheds, where matt was sitting on a stone ledge. i smiled and sat down next to him.
after what seemed like ages, matt looked at me and said "nyurgh." i looked at him. he looked at me. "what the hell was that about?" i asked. matt was by now a deep shade of almost fluorescent maroon. screwing his little eyes up and stammering, he reached down beside him, picked up a brick and hit me in the face with it.
yes, this suave little motherfucker bricked me in the chops.
i sat, too stunned to even cry. not that this mattered, because matt had decided to cry enough for both of us. howling like a soggy banshee, he hopped down off the ledge and ran home. he couldn't even bring himself to look at me after that.
little freak.
( , Mon 22 Feb 2010, 18:15, 5 replies)
this is more about someone flirting with me, albeit in a very strange way.
when i was but a wee smash, there was a lad called matt who lived in the same street as me. he would occasionally say hello, then immediately turn crimson with embarrassment. i was fairly sure he liked me, he just didn't have the nerve to really speak to me.
one day, matt's friend - i forget his name - said to me "matt wants you to meet him by the bin sheds." classy, eh?
i went to the bin sheds, where matt was sitting on a stone ledge. i smiled and sat down next to him.
after what seemed like ages, matt looked at me and said "nyurgh." i looked at him. he looked at me. "what the hell was that about?" i asked. matt was by now a deep shade of almost fluorescent maroon. screwing his little eyes up and stammering, he reached down beside him, picked up a brick and hit me in the face with it.
yes, this suave little motherfucker bricked me in the chops.
i sat, too stunned to even cry. not that this mattered, because matt had decided to cry enough for both of us. howling like a soggy banshee, he hopped down off the ledge and ran home. he couldn't even bring himself to look at me after that.
little freak.
( , Mon 22 Feb 2010, 18:15, 5 replies)
That's beyond bizarre.
I thought flirting when you're a kid was more 'punch on the arm' than 'brick in the face'.
( , Mon 22 Feb 2010, 22:37, closed)
I thought flirting when you're a kid was more 'punch on the arm' than 'brick in the face'.
( , Mon 22 Feb 2010, 22:37, closed)
I wish it was possible to click this more than once
Just for the sheer mental image.
( , Thu 25 Feb 2010, 0:30, closed)
Just for the sheer mental image.
( , Thu 25 Feb 2010, 0:30, closed)
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