Excuse me, do you need some help with that?
I asked the girl holding a guitar case that was about the same height as her. I had just finished my first ever set at an open mike night, and I was ready to go home and sleep off the low that coming off adrenalin gives you.

She had other plans. She was impressed at my 'gentlemanly' offer, and offered to buy me a drink. My 'gentlemanly' senses noticed that she had an arse you could bounce coins off of, so I obliged.

She seemed very nervous about doing her set, so she had gone for some dutch courage. The more intoxicated we got, she kept telling me quite personal details:

"I have a boyfriend, but the last time we were together he raped me"
(Why the fuck are you telling me this!?)

"I'm so nervous about going onstage. Shall I go on or shall we leave"
(We, huh? That's a good sign. But what's all this about rape?)

"My dad's been really ill with cancer. We never got on because he was a man's man in the army, too rough for us to understand each other"
(by this point, I wasn't sure if she wanted to paint herself as some sort of martyr, or she just wanted to vent her problems, or whether any of this was true or not)

A couple of drinks later (she'd managed to tell me all that over a mere two cocktails!) and she had to go on stage. She was in a rather advanced state of refreshment, and we stopped pulling each other so that she could play her set.

Some people perform better when drunk/high. Hendrix is a fair example. Other people, like this girl, sounded like a cat with down's syndrome.

After a long, pretty embarassing set, she finally finished and we got a cab home to my place.

As we stepped through the door, she asked where the toilet was and could she get a coffee.

At this point, I was about as excited as a ferret in a trouser factory. I was finally going to have some super-happy-funtime. I bolted towards the kitchen, past all my housemates. To their credit, they helped me sort out a tea for me and coffee for her, noticing my trembling at the thought of doing the horinzontal fandango and 'baptising' our student house.

Five minutes had passed, the coffees were ready and I set them down in my room.

"Funny," I mused "she's not here. Must still be on the loo. I'll wait"

Another five minutes passed. I knocked on the door;

"Coffee's ready, it's getting cold"

No answer. My sod's law sense was tingling. Something was amiss. I started pummeling the door, all my housemates behind me sniggering and considering my options.
We decided to peek through the keyhole to check whether she was still there. She was there all right, slumped against the bathroom wall, completely unconcious.

SHIT!

999 was dialled, the paramedics came and we broke the door down. Fortunately, they managed to wake her up and I was guaranteed not to be accused of doing anything dodgy (I was at this point concerned about her safety, and whether I had made the right decision)

She slept in my bed that night, I relegated myself to the floor. I spent the night kicking myself whilst occasionally checking to see if she was still breathing.

The morning after was awkward, especially considering all the personal stuff she had told me the night before. I made her some eggs and toast and we parted ways. I saw her again on the way to my lectures barely two hours later. Her friend asked me if I was "the guy she went home with where she ended up unconcious". Yup, great. That's me then.

So, in conclusion, I have managed to write a QOTW answer where there is no actual sex involved and no food. Oops.
(tarbin tarbis, tarbit, tarbamus, tarbimus, tarbant, Wed 12 Aug 2009, 10:48, 10 replies)

Haha great story though
But why did your flat mates not come to see you perform your first open mike set!? cunts!
( whenanimalsattackhumans clad in global hypercolour, Wed 12 Aug 2009, 11:37, closed)

Nah, not cunts, they were a great bunch
I kept the open mike thing quiet cos I was nervous about it. I preferred not to have anyone I knew there, so that I felt I would be less prone to making a tit of myself. So much for that theory!
(tarbin tarbis, tarbit, tarbamus, tarbimus, tarbant, Wed 12 Aug 2009, 11:45, closed)

Not quite 'no food'
There was some egg-on-toast action at the end there...

Nicely written though! You should marry her, it'd make a great story for your wedding speech :D
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Wed 12 Aug 2009, 12:52, closed)

Cheers prof!
If we ever did get married (unlikely as we haven't spoken since that night and she did sorta raise the mentalist alarm), I think I'd tell a less embarrasing story, like we met via a midget porn site or something.
(tarbin tarbis, tarbit, tarbamus, tarbimus, tarbant, Thu 13 Aug 2009, 13:20, closed)

That's not funny!!!
My cat has Downs Syndrome!
( SpikeyPickle wishes he was mabazaritchie, Wed 12 Aug 2009, 16:15, closed)

O rly?
I'll bet he's an awful singer then, eh?
(tarbin tarbis, tarbit, tarbamus, tarbimus, tarbant, Thu 13 Aug 2009, 13:21, closed)

Clicky
When she asked for eggs in the morning did you manage to ask them how she wanted them?
(Toucan - http://www.titmonday.com, Wed 12 Aug 2009, 18:03, closed)

Fertilized
n'est pas?
(tarbin tarbis, tarbit, tarbamus, tarbimus, tarbant, Thu 13 Aug 2009, 13:08, closed)

Rape?
Her "boyfriend" raped her? Why else would he be with her? Before anyone complains the point of "dating" and marriage in nost cultures is reproduction.
(Me, I'm not... in any way intoxicated, Wed 12 Aug 2009, 19:07, closed)

And the award for the universe's most obvious trolling attempt
goes to you. Congratulations.
(Sloppy Giuseppe, Thu 13 Aug 2009, 8:33, closed)