Nice guys always something something...
I met a girl at a mutual friend's house a while back. I was instantly attracted to her as was a mate of mine (Lets call him Lucas).

After a quick chat Lucas agreed to let me try my luck. But then made a move at his earliest convenience anyway, successfully I might ad.

I quickly surmised that one: Lucas wasn't that good of a friend to me and two: he was even worse as a boyfriend to her. So using this information, I took to the best course of action and simply one-upped him at everything a boyfriend should be best at.

This was hardly as devious as it might sound. I didn't do it on purpose as such, it just naturally happened.

When he wouldn't buy her a drink, I would.
When he wouldn't listen to her, I did.
Etc...
etc...
etc...

Again, I wasn't doing this to get at him or to get to her.

After 4 months they had broken up and a short while later me and her were on. Still are actually. Nearly 2 years later. Just moved in together. Couldn't be happier. As for Lucas... Don't talk to him much anymore.
(steebus, Tue 2 Sep 2008, 6:45, 4 replies)

.............
Go out with me ?

Chance would be a fine thing.


I'm a ginger.


:-(
(kickstandrich last had sex with your mum/sister/wife/daughter on, Tue 2 Sep 2008, 3:22, 14 replies)

Love's twisted path
I met my wife the night she got engaged to someone else. At least, that's what her new fiance told me - she maintains she simply went outside to vomit.

After many weeks of playing hard to get (me, not her), she finally "got" me with the corniest line imaginable - by inviting me up to her hotel room for a coffee.

I was telling a friend this down the pub the other day, and how it eventually led to us getting married in the Caribbean.

"Jamaica?"

"Nah, she wanted to."
( argyleblanket The man on the roof works for me, Tue 2 Sep 2008, 0:54, 3 replies)

school and beyond (it's a long one)
This story is your basic and bog standard love story, nothing compared to a few posts i've read on here, so read on if you will.

It all started when i was in school. I became friends with a couple of people on my school bus who were a few years below me. One of these people, is called K (name withheld for obvious reasons, she doesn't know i'm posting this)

As time passed we grew quite fond of each other, but at that age i was more interested in girls the same age as me and with less morals. We were good friends though, we made each other laugh on the school bus and we talked about anything and everything, it was great. After my GCSE's though, i left to go to college, i promised i would stay in touch with her. To an extent i did, but only for a month or so before my e-mail contact list was wiped (fresh start, i kept telling myself)

But... There was always a pang of guilt, some thoughts creeping in and whispering into my conscience "What if?" I thought i had lost her for good, i didn't know how to find out where/what she was doing and so, i conceeded defeat and carried on with life.

My last relationship wasn't too good, i was more work orientated and lacked motivation. People around me knew that there was something up, but they couldn't quite tell what was up. After a year and a half, we broke up. It was nasty as the trust had just gone out the relationship. So....there i was, jobless, pennyless, single and with no qualifications except Average (albeit quite high average) GCSE's and parts of a HND which i failed 3 times.

One day, i was on MSN, and i noticed a contact, Katy (not K, who this story is about), who went to my old school. I decided to strike up a conversation with her to see how life was treating her. After a while, dutch courage got the best of me and i asked the inevitable question "does K still go to school?" I was over the moon when she said yes

It was then i decided not to be a follower but this time act, seize the day and all that. I passed on my e-mail address and asked Katy, can you pass that on to K and ask if she would like to talk to me?

I waited a few days before logging on and finding out someone wants to talk to me, it was K's full name, i still remembered it. I froze, i can honestly say i froze on the spot as i tried to calm myself down. The first talk was the rockiest, we said our hello's, and "is this Jinx" etc. When it came to asking how she was, she replied "not good, my dog got put down the other day"

Some people say, you can tell how the relationship will pan out from the start. This didn't look good.

"Sod it" I thought. "Lets see what happens, if anything, we're talking, i never thought this would happen again"

And so we got chatting, she was doing her a-levels in Business, French and German while i was thinking of applying for an electricians course in my old college, thinking thats where the money is.

The more we talked, the more i realised the fondness for her was still there, only now i realised this was more than fondness, it was love. I kept the flame going for her for 4 years and it never faded completely. I was determined and eventually i told her how i felt, and expected to be blocked momentarily. But that didn't happen, instead, she told me that she fancied me too. My Flabber had been Gasted and i didn't know how to Carry on. Eventually, she told me to change my relationship status on Myspace (i'm no emo, it's good to get news from bands) to "in a relationship" to see what her friends would say. That was when we started going out.

After a while, we agreed that our anniversary was on the 14th april and it was weird as both of us couldn't believe we turned out like we did.

So...Where are we now?

Well...I told her about the electricians course, she kept drilling it into my head that i was so much more than that but i failed to see that due to a VERY low self esteem. She told me about a college course to get a-levels and go to uni. Something which i had always wanted to do.

We've been together now for, coming up, a year and 5 months. Some people on here have been with their significant other for longer than that, but this is my story and she is the only one that matters to me. She helped me change my life around, she made me promise to try the college course. I've passed and i'm now off to uni. We have never been stronger, we had a point last year where we nearly broke up, but we rode through it.

I honestly can say that i would never change a thing about the circumstances in which we met, who knows how they would have padded out otherwise. She is the one and only reason why i'm looking forward to the future rather than resigning to it.

And as i type this bleary and watery eyed with a huge smile on my face, i cannot help but think about how she's helped me
- Pushing me on a course to improve grades and life
- Welcome me into her family
- Confide in me
- Improve my confidence by an impressive amount
- Motivate me to improve my guitar playing and general skills
- Show that i'm more than what i think i am

She's the love of my life, she's my one and only and she's my soulmate.
( Jinxy13 is hating the S key, right about now., Tue 2 Sep 2008, 0:43, 2 replies)

Off topic slightly, but several others have been...
Not quite asking out, but wishing now that I should have... After a monumentally shit year, I had been disowned by half my family, and thrown out of my childhood home, simply for siding with my father after my parents divorced, had a spectacularly messy split up with my then girlfriend of 2 years, as she just couldn't keep her pants up, and failed my college course, I just stopped caring. I hardly went out, lost contact with most of my friends, life barely seemed living any more.

After being like this for nearly 18 months, I was chatting to one of my few remaining friends on MSN, and he invites me to join in a group conversation with a girl he was interested in. We all chat away, things are going well, although I have most of my attention on the TV, and a private window pops up from this girl, who I shall call ‘B’.

She says that my friend, ‘D’ is starting to bore her, amongst other things, but as we seem to have a lot in common, she’d like to keep the conversation going without him. I agree, purely at the time because she is incredibly smart, and we have a similar sense of humour, despite being in totally different social groups (i.e., whilst I’m lurking in a darkened room most of the time, in true Quasimodo style, minus the hump, she is more akin to Isabella, beautiful and never short of male attention.)

Weeks become months, MSN moves on to texting, and we get closer and closer. I start to look forward to waking up, so that we can talk again. Eventually, to my surprise; she asks if I’d like to meet up, as we live less than a mile apart. I stare at the message, reading and re-reading, wondering if I’m asleep, or if this is a joke of some kind. I reply to her message, agreeing that I’d like to meet up. We decide to just go for a walk the following day, and enjoy the quiet autumn evening together. Our plans made, I call it a night, wish her sweet dreams, and head to bed.

The morning comes, and when I wake, the first thing that surprises me is that it’s still rather dark outside. For the first time in almost 2 years, I’ve woken up at a nearly sensible time, without my dad jokingly throwing water over me! I get some breakfast, and eat it watching the sun rise over the fields to the back of my dad’s house. The day drags on and on, the sun slowly rises, and just as slowly starts to set, until finally, it’s time to set off to meet B.

I dig out my favourite coat, and head off down the road, actually starting to feel nervous. As I round the corner of B’s road, my heart sinks. She’s not there. I’ve been stood up. Part of me is not surprised, as if deep down, I was expecting it. I decide to wait, just in case, even though I’m mocking myself for actually daring to think things could turn out right for once.

After what seems like hours, although my watch insists it’s just minutes, my phone goes off with a text message, B’s parents have gone out, and her sister doesn’t want her going far, although we can just hang around the corner near her house. I agree, I mean, just to see her and talk would be more than enough.
I get a reply back saying she’ll be out in a minute or two, these drag by, until B appears from the side of her house. As she passes under the streetlight, time literally seems to stop. All my senses stop caring about the world and everything in it, except for this vision of beauty walking towards me. Godzilla could be fisting King Kong behind me, and I wouldn’t have noticed.

Unfortunately, time decided it couldn’t hang around forever, and B continued walking towards me. We awkwardly greeted each other, and as it wasn’t the warmest of nights, I offered my coat to keep her that bit warmer. We started talking like old friends reunited, and deep down, I felt a connection like nothing I’d ever felt, and will never feel again. Even now, 4 years after that night, I still would gladly offer my life to keep her safe, without hesitation.

As the night wound on, we found ourselves holding each other, talking about our past and present, something that even now I find extremely difficult to do. As I stared down at her, held tightly in my arms, bathed in the moon’s silvery glow, her beautiful brown eyes looking back up at me, I had an overwhelming urge to kiss her. Even though I was unsure if I should, what B would think of me if I did, the urge was so strong, I just had to.

Slowly, I lifted my hand up, and brushed several loose strands of hair away from her face, feeling the warmth of her soft skin, and tentatively lowered my head to gently kiss her, amazed at how right even such brief contact felt, on such a basic level. Pulling back slightly, our eyes locked, and after just a second, I went to kiss her again, with B mirroring my movements to my surprise, starting a slow, but passionate kiss. I could feel her breath lightly on my face, her heartbeat quickening, and every point of contact between us, no matter how small.

After a long moment of bliss, we separated, and went back to holding each other, just enjoying the closeness, not saying anything for a while.

After several long hours, and well into the next morning, we reluctantly parted. When I got home, and climbed into bed, I slept fitfully, my sleep filled with dreams of B. I realised I’d fallen madly in love with her, but as I knew that things in her life were awkward, didn’t tell her. We continued to text, and talk on MSN whenever possible, and met a couple more times since then, still very close, but I still hadn’t admitted the depth of my feelings for her.

As time passed, we lost contact, I’m not sure how, and I met the woman I’m now married to. I have never told her anything about B, as far as she knows, B doesn’t exist. My memories of B have never faded; I can still remember the scent of her skin today. After several years of no contact, whilst checking an old, defunct email account, I found an email from B in amongst the Spam emails, apologising for the lack of contact, but hoping to start talking again. I replied, explaining that I was now married, but I would be more than happy to start talking again.

We met up one night, and went for a drive, as whilst we had been talking, we had both noticed the tension between us, and decided to meet to talk face-to-face, and clear the air. Unfortunately, rather than clearing the air, it increased the tension, so much so you’d need a chainsaw to cut it, as I admitted my feelings for her, how they had only got stronger as time passed, but I didn’t want to tell her, as I didn’t want to add more confusion to her life back then.

B then admitted that she felt the same, but didn’t want to say anything for the same reasons, I was having a lot of family trouble, and that she was still nursing strong feelings for me. Through sheer force of will, it was all I could do not to kiss her there and then, and promise that things would work out fine, as I knew they wouldn’t. I would drive her home, and she would go back to her life, and I would go home to my marriage, knowing that although I love my wife, the feelings will never come close to the feelings I have for B. I have never cheated in my life, but help me God; I have never been so tempted to just pack a bag and runaway with B to start a new life...

Sorry for the lack of humour, and/or sense... Alcohol does this to me.
(AQ, Mon 1 Sep 2008, 23:51, 4 replies)

Never take no...
At Uni I had a diastrous spell of asking girls out and being roundly rejected, it almost began to seem routine. I was at a real low point in my confidence. Ironically that actually made it easier to ask other girls out. What's the worst they could say? No? Well I'd already heard that five times before so really had nothing to lose.

Cue Chloe, a cute little brunette who I shared lectures with and had had a handful of work related chats with. At the end of one class she left some of her worksheets. I was sitting behind so I ran after her to return them.

The next thing. I swear I had an out of body experience as I actually remember watching myself and her from about 5 feet away. This may explain what happened.

I handed her the sheets, she said thanks.
I made some crap joke about the lecturer and she actually laughed!
me: "So er Chloe, would you like to go out sometime, you know for a drink?
her: "yeah OK."
me: "Oh well, no worries, sorry, see you around."
Then I ran away from the humiliation.

After about 30 seconds I'm back in my body and suddenly stop, a huge "what the frick am I doing?" looms into view and I do the biggest cringe of my life. But it's too late. She's dissapeared and never meets my eye again.

Luckily I managed to find a shred of pride somewhere and did much better the next time out.
(Bo Nidle Coming back in from the cold., Mon 1 Sep 2008, 23:22, Reply)

It all started...
When I was 16. I was in a club with a strict 'over 18 only' policy, but I knew one of the doorman.

One of my friends decides to introduce me to a Czech girl he'd just met. We'll call her K. He then takes me over to the most glorious figure of womanhood I'd ever seen before (or since)

K told me she was 19 years old. I obviously couldn't tell her that I was only 16, but wanting to sound at least slightly believable, told her I was 18.

I don't remember what we talked about, only that the time from us being introduced at 9pm until the club closed at 2am seemed to only be 5 minutes.

We agreed to share a cab home as my place was on the way back to hers. In the cab she wrote down her phone number on the back of a train ticket and told me to call her the next day.

I called her, we arranged to meet at a pub near to her house and we had an absolutely amazing time. For the next week we were seeing each other every spare moment.

I learnt that she was an au pair who'd only just arrived in the UK on a 1 year work permit. And then she told me her real age - she was 23.

I admitted that I'd also lied about my age and told her that I was 7 years younger than her, but it didn't seem to matter, we spent the whole of that year blissfully happy together.

And then her visa expired.

She tried to get it renewed, but the Home Office were having none of it. K was given 7 days to leave the country. We were both devestated.

I went out to the Czech Republic to visit her a month after she left. I was supposed to be there for 2 weeks, but after 2 years I was forced to come home by the Czech government. We promised that we would stay in touch, but for a variety of reasons that I won't go into here, that became impossible.

I haven't spoken to K since the summer of 1997, but I'm still totally in love with her. I haven't had a 'good' relationship since her, and I'm not sure I ever will.

The worst bit?

In a pub in Guildford last year, I bumped into our next door neighbour from the Czech Republic. He wouldn't say anything about her, but he did give me a phone number for her mother. I'm too scared to call
(SarcasticBarSteward wants to be good at Photoshop when he grows up, Mon 1 Sep 2008, 23:05, 12 replies)

No more
Said lassie was married but wanted out or so i thought,turns out she was taking the piss BIG time and saw me coming

Turns out she tried it on with a few other guys for her amusement

Bitch
(shug, Mon 1 Sep 2008, 22:21, 1 reply)

Rumors at work
We had worked together for about two weeks and got on really well. So well in fact everyone was convinced we where "getting it on".

So well in fact they stopped us working the same shifts , after i complained and quite forwardly told the boss that nothing was going on and she "wasn't my type in the slightest", and i "would rather do him then her" ( i not that way inclined ) he put us back on shift together.

After explaining the situation to her she reaplied " why not show them a thing or two eh"

HEy i thought it would be a laugh and maybe i'd get a easy shag as well .

That "easy shag" will be a year on the 9th yay!

And i still havn't bedded my boss ..
(shake'n'bake Tally Ho, Biatch!, Mon 1 Sep 2008, 21:43, 1 reply)

I don't have a current flame
Any single women want to go for a drink?
(meat2veg hello!, Mon 1 Sep 2008, 20:44, 3 replies)

A tale of friendship, lust, and ill-timed feelings.
Get comfy, this could be a long one. Might I also suggest kleenex, I know I need them.

I met my current squeeze at college, about 7 years ago. For the purpose of this story, we shall call him Al, for that is his name. It was pure friendship at first, I had a fella, he was just a dude I got stoned with. We had the same mates and drank in the same pub and he quickly became a really good friend.

Anyway, about 2/3 years later, after a string of rubbish boyfriends, I found myself single. I had a small gathering one night, just a couple of college mates, and after getting suitably mullered, everyone bar Al left. We stayed up til sunrise talking, the inevitable kiss happened, and I went to work the next day very tired but very happy.

The next few weeks were a bit of a disaster. Thanks to one of the aforementioned rubbish boyfriends I had a few "issues", mainly with the more intimate side of things, and I ended up having a wobbler and running away. And so begins the last 4 years of my romantic life - Al and I went on and off with various issues on both sides, each time would be "the absolute, definite, 100% end", but we'd always end up back together.

This went on, and intensified over the last year and a half... the last 6 months in particular. Because that's about the time I applied to university...

When I applied, I didn't think much of our little situation. While I knew he meant a lot to me, it seemed it would never really go anywhere. We had never been "serious" as such, for various reasons and doubts it just seemed like it would never work. So when I decided to leave Al didn't play a huge part in my decision. And everything was fine, but then...the past 5/6 months have been so intense, it's like as soon as we knew there was a defining end point for all this, we realised just how little we wanted it to be over. And I've only gone and fallen in love with him before leaving. And while I know I'll always have a best friend in him, without question (yay), it breaks my heart to know I'll never get to find out if it could have been more.

This is more of a confession than an answer. Sorry. But it's sort of a mixture of romance AND rejection. So shush, it's made me feel better to get it off my chest. And a final word of advice: Never let any opportunity pass you by. It might hurt, then again it might just be the best thing in the world, and that's a stupid thing to throw away.
( SugarSpunSister Yeah, whatever, Mon 1 Sep 2008, 20:21, 7 replies)

Worst. Reply. Ever.
I was sitting on a kitchen counter during a party in 1981 when a handsome man came up to me. He looked me over and after a bit of chit-chat, said "Would you like to go out for coffee or something?"
I was surprised because I never get asked out. (I think I must send out "Fuck off!" vibes) I stammered, "Why, why do you want to go out with-with me?"

He grinned ear to ear and said, "Well, you're just so ...HUGE!"

We'll be married 22 years on the 13th.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Mon 1 Sep 2008, 20:19, 3 replies)

love bites
Post-conference drinks, sitting on a sunshiny wall in Pisa, Italy. It's a popular past-time in Pisa, sitting on a wall. About 200 other people were doing so too.

"These damn mosquitoes," I was telling friend-on-my-left, "I must be really tasty as they won't stop biting me."

Bloke-on-my-right lent over and bit my shoulder. "Yup, you are," he replied.

Bloke-on-my-right and I sat on the wall 'til the sun went down, the bars closed, and we were the last people talking by the river. Then he put me on the handlebars of his bike and drunkenly wove his way past the Leaning Tower and on to the campsite where he showed me what else he could do with his mouth.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Mon 1 Sep 2008, 20:10, 4 replies)

lovely, but one thing
YOU CLIFFHANGING FUCK :(
(Tyraen, Mon 1 Sep 2008, 20:09, 4 replies)

The Bearded Whumpus
reminded me of this.

Some time ago now, I rather fancied the local barmaid - screw the fact that she was 16 years younger than me, I really did have a bit of a schoolboy crush on her.

One night, somehow, we ended up going out for a drink together, but with friends so that it wasn't 'awkward'!

She came round to mine, and, and I'm ashamed to admit it, asked her to iron a shirt for me as I really am that hopeless that I'd probably use the plug end and wonder why there were little dents all over the shirt and the floor was getting wet.

To her credit, she actually did iron the shirt (and fine job she did too). I popped to the local Tesco for some fags while she was doing it.

I also came back with some pretty cheesy, half dead roses, complete with the £3.99 sticker on them.

That night, after the 'drink'*, she stayed at my house.

Believe it or not that was over 2 years ago and we're still living together.


*may have been several.
(dchurch bah, Mon 1 Sep 2008, 19:52, Reply)

Oh the humiliation (repost)
So, there's this bloke at work that i liked for quite sometime.

Inevitably i was drunk after the works outing at christmas and i made the fatal mistake of asking him out. Usually there would not be enough alcohol on the planet to make me do something like this (very very shy) so i don't know what came over me.

After an agonising 3 day wait for him to receive the text message it took him about a nanosecond to say err... no.

Actually what he said was that there would be no season when he would be daft enough to go for a drink with me. Yay me.

I'm pretty much over him now but it was awkward at work for a while. It's hard to do anything constructive when all the blood in my body is in my cheeks. At least i'm nearly done with the phd then i never have to see him ever again. Yay!

Met a lovely bloke on match.com tho so am now getting lot's of sex which is always a good thing :)
(The Ginger Penguin la la la la la la, Mon 1 Sep 2008, 19:34, 4 replies)

Once again, sort of off topic
but see if I care.

My now-ex-girlfriend was remarkably tolerant of me wandering off to the pub to watch the footy. No, I don't know why. Often on the way back, slightly plastered*
(*actual level of plasteredness may sometimes be really quite plastered indeed), I would get lured in by the rack of dying flowers outside Tesco, or equivalent, and grab a bunch, like the awesomely romantic soul that I am. Don't tut, you've all done it.

Anyway, on one occasion at the end of the match a rather interesting brainstorm occurred, and remembering that she liked proper plants too I staggered off to the ASDA near the pub to obtain a pot plant. Why, I have no idea. I wandered around ASDA for a short while looking ever so pleased with myself, and probably worrying a fair few customers.
Eventually I remembered that shops like you to give them money and then fuck off and stop looking like a random twat with a plant, and did so.

And so I staggered happily up the road with my plant ("It's a really good plant" I told a tramp) ready to present it to my young lady.
She was quite pleased, but some some reason a tiny bit confused.

However, she was nowhere near as confused as the owners of the kebab shop I wandered into on the way back for a nice dose of greasy salmonella. They didn't have a fucking clue why I had brought in this plant. Marvellous.
(Bearded Whumpus In chav Britain, schoolgirl offers sweets to YOU!, Mon 1 Sep 2008, 19:11, 3 replies)

I asked Jake Johnson out when we were 9
He gave me a funny look then ran away.

Even though I'd showed him my thing when we were 7.

Cunt.
( Madam Marlboro wonders if you've found her yet, Mon 1 Sep 2008, 18:15, 6 replies)

I've been known to pull.
The thing is, that I've never asked a girl out. I mean, after you've had an evening of gymnastic sex that wrecks the bed and trashes the room there isn't a lot of point in asking is there? You both already know if it's an experience you want to repeat...

It's asking for directions home that's embarrassing.
(Shimrod, Mon 1 Sep 2008, 17:33, Reply)

My bi-curious phase...
Guy comes round to my house. He tries it on with both my housemates, who aren't interested. I go into the kitchen to make a brew, and he comes in and starts kissing me.

5 minutes later I'm sucking him off (I'd had a bit to drink).

5 minutes after that, he buggered off never to be seen again.

And that's why I turned straight.
(Half of Stephen Fry's right buttock pissed on your dog on, Mon 1 Sep 2008, 17:21, Reply)

Getting to the point
Man at conference with whom I'd been drinking: "Do you fancy coming back to my hotel room?"
Me: "Aye."
Man at conference with whom I'd been drinking: "For sex, I mean?"
Me: "Aye."
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Mon 1 Sep 2008, 17:11, 11 replies)

Actually, she begged me to go out with her
after I showed her this and these.

She immediately knew me to be a man of discriminating taste and a purveyor of fine collectibles.

She wasn't wrong.

EDIT: She, of course, being our very own crackhousecelidhband...
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Mon 1 Sep 2008, 17:06, 4 replies)

"You know, ah..."

"This was named after me."
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Mon 1 Sep 2008, 16:54, 3 replies)

My Childhood Sweetheart
She had large brown eyes and long wavy hair worn in plaits tied with navy blue ribbons.

When she smiled the room lit up and when we all played kiss-chase she never ran from me.

We were both five when I proposed and from that day on for two years each morning we could be found sitting on the steps outside our classroom repeating the same words to each other –
“I’m going to marry you when I grow up”


When we were seven and the allure of an older woman who owned her own jumbo sized pencil-sharpener became too great I faltered.

My lovely brown-eyed fiancée was told that I was going out with Clare H now and I no longer loved her in her pencil-sharpenerless state.

She cried and I felt like a heel.

Even stories of Little Black Sambo who outwitted the tigers and ate pancakes for tea couldn’t cheer me up.

Each time I glanced around the classroom her large brown eyes would find me and silently plead with me but my hand was held fast in a sweaty embrace with Clare and our love was sealed by her placing her pencil-sharpener into my pencil case.

Young love is a fickle beast and soon my relationship with the sweaty-handed Clare was over and I was once again single and sharpener-free.



I was always one of the lads and my days were taken up with football and playing Superheroes.

All of the girls refused our pleas to be our Wonder Woman or Bat Girl.
The girls wanted to play house under the rhododendron bushes, collect the fallen blossom or play strange clapping games.
A few fast and loose ones would entice you into a rhododendron house, lie on the beaten earth and lift their skirts so you could see their knickers.
None of us lads were interested in their cotton undies with the days of the week printed upon them – these could not match our pants with ThunderCats emblazoned upon them.

One girl finally accepted our offer to be Wonderwoman, to eschew the draw of flowers, house and other girl games, one girl saw how good the Superhero game was - the girl with the large brown eyes and wavy hair; she would be Wonder Woman for me.


Soon we were nearing the end of our long days in Primary school. We had all been split up, girls no longer talking to or sitting with boys, separate games lessons, boys smelled and girls were bitchy.

One girl was always in trouble with the teachers.
One girl was to be punished for her constant chattering to other girls.
She was to be sat next to a boy as surely the conversations would cease.

And so it came to pass that my wavy haired, brown eyed girl sat next to me.

Each Monday morning would be spent in giggles as I re-enacted Saturday night’s ‘Jim’ll Fix It’ for her with the aid of my novelty cigar biro pen.


Each Monday afternoon would be spent in detention – each of us smiling gently at the other.


And then the end came – off we went in separate directions to different schools – she to an all-girls’ grammar and I to a mixed comp.


I had been at my new school for a few weeks when I saw Diana – she was fifteen, blonde and stunning.

I found out that she lived in my village and I began a determined effort of stalking her. I followed her each Friday evening when she went to the youth club. I played pool with my friends and Diana, lovely Diana disappeared behind the back of the youth club hut and smoked with the local bad lads.


Then quite out of the blue I received a telephone call.

It was from the girl with the large brown eyes and wavy hair.

“Hello Richard. I’mgoingtoadisconextFridayeveningwouldyouliketocomewithme?”

“Um….”

“……”

“I’ll have to ask my mum. I’ll ring you back.”

Friday nights were Diana’s.

Diana had big bouncy breasts and smoked cigarettes.

I phoned the girl with the large brown eyes and wavy hair; I told her I had to visit my Aunt on that Friday, but thanks anyway for the invitation.


She never called again.


Another year passed, I grew by six inches and my mates sent me into the Offie for cans of Stella.

I still went to the Youth Club with its twin attractions of Diana and the pool table.

Then one evening Diana invited me around the back for a fag.

She leaned forward and kissed me gently, her lips were damp and her breath was heavy with Silk Cut and cheap cider.

My mates stood and watched, each drawing deeply on their cigarettes and laughing about Diana’s friends in their short skirts and large thighs.

I slid my hand up her white blouse until I could feel the silken smoothness of her bra. I kissed her deeper, my virgin tongue slipping in and probing her warm wet mouth. My hand cupped her lacy clad breast and my engorged cock began to nudge against her thigh. Her tongue began to respond to mine by twisting and circling in a way that I thought was sexy in a HotPoint kind of way. I kneaded and pulled gently at her tit, feeling her hard little nipple dance in my inky fingers. Diana’s fingers were playing with the waistband of my jeans, sharp fingernails were scratching my stomach and I could bear it no longer. I took her hand and shoved it down onto my rock hard pork sword and as her cool fingertips made contact I spluffed into my boxers.

“Will you go out with me?” I groaned to Diana as my brain began its slow journey back up to my skull.

“Nah. You’re cute right. But I like a man who can go all night. Wanna fag?”


Fifteen years passed.

During that time I shagged my way through Uni and across the world.

Diana I found out now had four kids and a loyalty card for IceLand.

That summer I received an invitation to a wedding of an old mate I’d studied with in Uni – a bit of a bastard if I’m being truthful, but it was the opportunity to get drunk at his expense, catch up with old mates and maybe even get laid.


I expect you can guess who the bride was…when I saw the invitation I did a double take – she has a very unusual name the girl with big brown eyes and wavy hair.


I went to the wedding and watched my first love walk up the aisle.

I watched her marry a man whom I know is a bastard.

I watched her marry a man whom I know was unfaithful to her during his stag night – I know because I was there right along side him as we both screwed working girls for £60 each.



After the ceremony I finally got chatting to her, my wavy haired, brown eyed girl.

I reminded her of her promise to marry me when she grew up. She laughed and just as when she’d been a child, her laughter and smiles lit up the room.


And finally I had the courage to say to her what I should have said long ago,

“Will you go out with me?”


She laughed again and told me that if ever things went wrong with her marriage I’d be the first one she’d contact.





Six months later she called me.
(Stiff Richard, Mon 1 Sep 2008, 16:39, 15 replies)

"They call me the record collector,
because I've got 12 inches, and I'm single."
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Mon 1 Sep 2008, 16:29, 3 replies)

Easy
Nothing too special, just a bit of old fashioned blackmail.
(Sahara Desert http://www.twitter.com/thesaharadesert for swears, Mon 1 Sep 2008, 16:27, Reply)

Possibly a lengthy one
I've never been a brave lad, and could never bring myself to ask a girl out. Throughout my teenage and early uni years, I'd be able to talk to girls who I took a shine to, but i'd always be the "pillar to cry on" rather than the "guy to have hot, sweaty primal sex with". I had no confidence with girls at all.

In my final year of uni, I spot a girl at a gig who literally makes me stop in my tracks. I've had a couple of drinks, and finally pluck up the courage to just chat with her. In short, she's beautiful, witty and charming. Her and a couple of friends come back to the B&B that myself and a few friends are staying in, and we chat some more.

Things seemed to go well, but I just couldn't kill my fear of rejection enough to ask her for her number, or a kiss. Her and her friends eventually leave, and I'm summarily (and quite rightly) mocked by my friends for my inaction.

A few weeks later, we meet again, and she remembers me! We spend all of the night chatting, sat on the stairs of a club, but despite her closeness causing all the synapses in my brain to shoot big "kiss her!" messages, I once again bottle it, and we eventually go our separate ways. We had managed to exchange numbers though.

Well, I've never been one to do the cool thing, so I didn't maintain the 'wait at least three days before texting' discipline. Seemingly not put off by my impatience, she responds, and for a few weeks we communicate through texts and then emails. Then, one beautiful day, she says that she's coming over to my city (she lives an hour or so away) as she has to visit a friend, and would I like to meet up?

Of course, having picked my jaw up off the floor, slowed my heartbeat down to a non life-threatening level, and performed a joyous victory dance, I reply back that I'd love to see her.

We meet up a few days later, and spend the whole time chatting. I invite her back to mine for a bit, and we talk and laugh and listen to music until she notices the time. She's missed her last train home. I was a bit shocked, the heart rate climbed again, but I offered her my bed for the night. She accepts, we chat more, get closer, and then the planets align and we kiss.

That was the beautiful first day of my first proper relationship.

Unfortunately, I'm a complete dickhead. We saw each other every now and again (long distance...), and I realised that she was falling for me. I had managed to convince myself that I was incapable of loving anyone, and whilst there were butterflies in my stomach whenever I was with her, I was sure that I wasn't falling for her. So I called it off, and we agreed to stay friends.

The next year I spent finishing university, and meeting new people, but it's only now that I can look back and see that I had become a total cunt. I cared only for myself, I became easily lead by my genitalia, and I was blissfully unaware of any consequences to my actions.

I don't want to go into details, but I ended up hurting the same beautiful, kind girl who i have been talking about. I hurt her in a way that I thought incapable of doing, and to this day I'm utterly disgusted in myself. I was shocked to my core with realisation of what i'd done, and we arranged to meet up, possibly for the last time.

It must have taken her all the will in the world to meet me, but meet me she did. We talked, cried, and I apologised endlessly. This was a woman who had been nothing but kind and considerate to me, and i caused her unimaginable pain and anguish. We talked until our last trains were about to go, but neither of us wanted to leave. I invited her back to mine, so that we could continue talking. She agreed, and we spent the whole night talking, crying, and occasionally laughing.

She returned home the next day, but we both agreed that we'd keep in contact. Over the next few weeks, thoughts of her occupied every waking thought. I remembered how happy we both had been before, how happy we made each other. I also remembered the look of pain on her face that day, how it was all my doing. True to our promise, we stayed in contact, and thoughts of her were never far from my mind. I was always questioning my feelings for her, whether I just felt incredibly guilty, or whether there was more there.

As much as I hate the term 'soul-searching', I analysed everything I thought I felt, because I had begun to think that maybe there was the possibility that I loved her. I could never be sure, but every time we'd talk and laugh with each other I would feel elated. I felt that she still had feelings for me, but I didn't want to mention any possible feelings I might have for her until I was certain that they were true. She did not deserve to be messed around by anyone ever again, least of all me, so I had to be sure.

We met up again some time later, and any doubts for my true feelings for her were gone. I was in love with her. I tried to be diplomatic in broaching the subject of us getting back together. I promised that I would, and indeed could never be the person I had become before. I always knew that it was asking far more than I was 'entitled' to, I'd abused her trust and hurt her, and here I was asking for a second chance.

I'm glad to say that she took her time to consider things, and spoke to friends about it. Then one day she said we could try again. The next two and a half years were, quite honestly, the best years of my life. I traveled 6 hours most weekends to see her, the other times she'd come to visit me. We had two wonderful holidays together, and I was looking in to moving to her city so that I could be with her. We'd often talked about marriage and kids, and I never once felt the urge to run. I was the happiest I've ever been, and I know that she was as well.

Sadly, there was always the memory of how I hurt her. There always will be. We tried to make things work, we both devoted ourselves to each other, but unfortunately it seems there are some wrongs that no amount of will and effort can right.

We broke up (mutually agreed) before Christmas, and see each other only every few months. We still talk most days, and both of us have had more than our fair share of breakdowns, but we're both adamant that we'd hate to lose the friendship we have. She's the most wonderful person I have ever known, but despite our feelings for each other, we both accept that things just won't work out between us.

It's nine months since we broke up. Not long ago I thought I was beginning to move on, but recently i've come to the crushing realisation that I haven't even started.

The one time I get the courage to approach a girl, and all of this spirals out from it. I've had the best and worst times of my life to date, and if I could live that moment again, I'd still approach her. I just wish I hadn't been such a cunt. She deserves only happiness.
( Labia Majora You keep on talking but it makes no sense at all, Mon 1 Sep 2008, 15:58, 8 replies)