I shat onto my her out of a hotel window in Bracknell
I had accidentally locked myself inside a second-floor chair-storage cupboard on my way to a conference being held at the hotel, I shouted and banged but nobody heard me. Eventually nature took over and for some reason I decided to make a mess out of the window and onto the plant beds below. I hadn't realised that this was sometimes used by hotel staff for impromptu fag breaks and in the time between checking the coast was clear and getting into the right position she'd leant against the wall to enjoy a quick B&H. She was horrified of course and furiously marched upstairs to find the culprit, obviously I was pleased to be free and very apologetic as you can imagine. I offered to pay for new clothes, a hair-cut and to buy her dinner as an apology, somehow she accepted - we hit it off and have been together for 17 years, married for 14 with two kids.
(Chopper3, Wed 3 Sep 2008, 18:31, 4 replies)

actually
While I remember. For all you single chaps out there - stumbled across this one by accident.

Camping with the boys at Glen Etive - my good self and some of the usual suspects from the digital team (I was given honorary membership given I could cook and the fire NEVER goes out when I’m around).

On the second day after an EPIC night's drinking, pills and fireworks we are steadily drinking through the day - White Russians for breakfast though. We’re not savages.

Suddenly, quite bizarrely a white van stops in the single-track road a hundred yards or so behind us. Door is flung open...

"Lads! Party tonight at the old boathouse at down the end of the loch road"

We all look blankly at each other and the van full of blokes screeches away

As sun sets we hear a low thudding beat drifting along the loch

doof doof doof doof

Erm, maybe we should check this out.

as we meander along the track I spot a really pretty flower and pick it - then another. I start lagging behind.

"for fucksake spimf what the fuck are you doing - hurry up"

by the time we get to the old boathouse I have by complete accident a really nice bunch of Scottish wild flowers

turns out there are a bunch of 20 folks there with a generator, decks, a cobbled together PA and a huge bonfire - all raving away.

I ambled straight up to the prettiest girl there and said "hi these are for you". To be honest i suddenly i felt a bit of a tit standing there with a bunch of handpicked flowers while 'Smack my bitch up' was battering my lobes - I just wanted rid of them. Now i should also say I am quite happily ensconced with Mrs. spimf and was therefor only mucking around.

fuck. me.

boy did it work though. I guess the added aspect of not trying helped, but damn it had an effect.

I didn't know women could actually swoon. she turned to her friends and said..

"look what this lovely guy has done, he picked them for me"

within minutes I had three really cute girls - considerably younger than me literally sitting at my feet giggling and laughing as I regaled them with my usual pish. My mates seemed to think i had suddenly turned into as darren put it "James Bastard Bond"

soon I was enjoying a rather splendid neck massage while I ran my fingers through another girls hair (I was pilled up again by this point) I think this is the only thing that saved me from a good shoeing from the boyfriend of the one whose hair I was stoking.

I wasn't looking for any action but if I had been, damn those flowers did the trick!
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Wed 3 Sep 2008, 17:31, 8 replies)

Blast from the Past
Years ago, in school I had a good friend, we will call her H. we used to do loads together, sit next to each other in classes, mess around in school and out and generally were great friends. We sort of had the odd little kiss and cuddle, but never got together, mostly because we were such good friends, and it seemed like we had an awesome relationship without the need for all that soppy nonsense.

We remained friends throughout school and into university, going to colleges on opposite sides of the country but stayed in touch through text messages and phone calls. We used to make jokes about getting married and so on, and then we ended spending a half term together, just cruising around the country in her car and having a great time. On the last night, one thing led to another - we were a bit drunk - and we ended sleeping with each other.

Next day was like nothing had happened, and we were still great mates and she left to go back to her uni. It was then I realised how much I missed her, and how we had such an awesome relationship, and what I'd been feeling all these years was love! So I did what emotionally stunted boys do in that situation and got drunk and wrote her a letter proffessing my love, and how I was going to wait for her until after we finished university and that I thought we were totally made for each other.

Now I'm sure you know where this is going. I instantly felt like a complete idiot, having sobered up and realising what I'd posted the night before. So I wasn't really suprised when the response came back where H said that she didn't love me in that way, and that she couldn't be my one true love and so on and so on. So we never spoke again, much to my dismay and eternal regret.

The years passed and I tried to track her down to apologise and hopefully rekindle our friendship which was the best one I've ever had, but I couldn't find her. So I just resigned myself to the fact that she was gone from my life and I should stop pining and get on with things.

Now, just recently (nearly ten years later), she got back in touch with me. We have talked, and we have got a lot off our chests. But the upshot is that she didn't really mean what she wrote in her letter back to me, she just felt as though she was undeserving of my love and didn't know how to deal with it. She felt exactly the same about me, but didn't know how to admit it, and because she thought I hated her for turning me down, she had been too scared to get back in touch all these years. But now she has, and I haven't felt happier in all my days.

However, I am now married and with two children, all of whom I love dearly and unequivocally. But I'm completely torn apart by the feelings that have resurfaced. Obviously, because I'm not a cunt, I wont be doing anything reprehensible but seeing H again has stirred up a lot of forgotten emotion, and made me realise what's been missing in my life. But I am also very aware of the mind's ability to rose tint everything, and that I'm probably romanticizing everything I remember. But still, I'm in an impossible situation, torn between loyalty, love and security with my family, and the burn of my first true love back to haunt me, and wondering how things could be, or could have been.

And that's really the end of my story. This has been both the best, and the worst thing that has happened to me, and I write this to serve as a warning to all you quiet romantics out there pining over your unrequited feelings - Make sure you take every opportunity in love, and don't lie to your lover, don't hide from your feelings and most of all don't wait forever to tell someone how you feel, if you're sure about your feelings then dive in.

A broken heart will heal, but there's nothing worse than wondering how things could have been if you'd just taken that chance.
( BlueHaze Chutney. All good., Wed 3 Sep 2008, 17:24, 2 replies)

Beer was involved...
A friend and I sat down at the Ashton Court festival in Bristol with 24 cans of Blackthorn for a solid days drinking. 2 young ladies were sat in front of us with 24 cans of Stella, one of them turned around and said "Snakebite?"

9 years on and I marry her on October the 4th, yay!
(clowns_pocket, Wed 3 Sep 2008, 16:51, 2 replies)

Like you
I noticed her first because of her car. It was great. But every day, something would go wrong with it. She was always like "grrrr" and I was all "whats up with it today?". I used to have one of them, so I said I'd have a look. When I got round I thought she'd changed her hair, and she liked my cut - you know, sort of choppy. We looked pretty cool.

We both worked in restaurants, as wait staff, like, well until something else comes along. She told me she was in a band, I'd never heard them, but I'd heard they were pretty good. I told her to come on over to my place, well 'Gastro pub' after she got off shift and I'd get the cook to make something that I know she'd love. She was all, you know.

I went to her place - some guy was actually sleeping on the couch. She said it was fine. He pays rent. I'm sure theres some unresolved issues there between them. I'll have to get rid of him. She said it was all, you know, stuff.

I'd really like to keep this cool, casual, and she's so, so, just, 'earthly'. Do you know what I mean? I dig bohemian chicks but you know?

But I did like her. Its just that she never fucking washes and her place is a fucking tip.

Fucking hippy chicks.

And whats with the being naked all the time?
( I have run out of coke is a little sweaty, Wed 3 Sep 2008, 16:44, 7 replies)

Not me...
but a good friend who we can call C. This now classic line was delivered to a mutual friend, called L. Everyone except L knew that C liked her but obviously everyone being a quite a close group it could make things a bit awkward. He didn't mind, he really liked L. So he got some Dutch courage, walked up to her, and said...

"I'm a one hit wonder and you're the hit!"

I can't even think about it myself without cringing. I want to say something else but I don't think I can. There is no way to follow those words.

I'm sure he'd apologise for length but if he's anything like his dad it's small and ginger.
(Martin1337 was trying and failing to be funny at, Wed 3 Sep 2008, 16:25, Reply)

Kick back
The young me was working in a clothes shop and saw a stunning tall willowy brunette girl walk past and immediately fell in love. One of the girls that worked there egged me on to go chase her and say hello, I argued that it was a waste of time but their insistence boosted my confidence. 'Women love impulsive men' sez she.

Right I will do it.

Run out the front door. Fuck! Where is she? Run left down the street. See daffodils growing by side of road grab a handful and keep running.

Eventually see her and chase her down.

She turns and looks even more beautiful than I thought she was.

I hold out the flowers, smile and say 'these are for you'.

She looks me in the eye and says with such venom "fuck off you smarmy wanker".

So I did, tail between legs back to the inevitable 'what happened...' at work.

Now if you look at how I met my other half (posted below) I was a total drunken twat yet ended up with her; but when I behaved in what I thought was a romantic way I get full on abuse and my ego-bollocks crushed.

Years later still none the wiser - if any of you young people want advise don't ask me.
(Tugnut I got them all..., Wed 3 Sep 2008, 16:11, Reply)

blown out by a bird because of a bird!!!
When I was but a boy I asked Vicky if I could 'kiss her like JR* does'

She said no because she was going to be on the Emu show the next day.

I bet she would have let Emu give her a JR kiss.

*Being little I didn't know that it was called french kiss but I knew that JR kissed girls in a certain way hence the term 'JR kiss'.

The real truth is I asked her if she wanted a 'JR special' but I'm cringing just thinking about that.
( SpikeyPickle wishes he was mabazaritchie, Wed 3 Sep 2008, 16:09, 1 reply)

quantum raspberry's post reminded me
Years ago at a club, a conversation between me (a very skint and stoned student), and a girl I'd somehow managed to pull.

her: Shall we go to the bar?
me: Ok.

We stand at the bar for what seemed like aeons.

her: Well, aren't you going to buy me a drink?
me: I haven't got any money.
her: You're a twat.

And then she turned on her heels and walked off.

Girls are cunts smell.
( rofl harris, Wed 3 Sep 2008, 16:00, 5 replies)

Left for another woman
You would've thought having a bisexual girlfriend would be, well, let's just assume that every bloke this side of Saudi Arabia would want to shake your hand and buy you pints on nights out. The only problem being that they're now open to twice as many opportunities to stab you in the back.

I'll call her C, for that was the first letter in her name, and we'd been generally enjoying each other's company and gyrating movements for a few weeks. Then she went to my mate's party and pulled his sister in a lesbian moment so aweseome it got 50,000 views on Youtube before it was deleted. Feeling devastated, C had the decency to come forward about the whole affair.

"Foxy, it's over. I've found someone else and I'm really clicking with her"
"Her? Fair enough. Can I watch?"

Christ I'm smooth.
(FoxyBadger (try saying it backwards), Wed 3 Sep 2008, 15:58, 4 replies)

a pissed up knacker, how could she say no?
I met Mrs Tugnut in a club. I had been to a wedding earlier in the day and got totally smashed. Apparently I staggered over to her and said "fuck me, your trousers are the trippiest thing Ive seen all day and I have seen a lot of trippy things today AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!" I then looked around very puzzled as though I had suddenly realised I was in a club and not my kitchen and said "You are lovely, I wish I met you earlier. Byeeeeee" and danced my way across the club to the exit like a special olympics triple jumper.

A week or so later I met a beautiful girl and started talking to her and all was going well until she told me the above story about my shoddy behaviour and trouser insults. Twas her. I apologised and yet she agreed to go out with me.

Her version is she only went out with me because I had a copy of The Wasp Factory under my arm and she wanted to borrow it.

Hows that for romance?
(Tugnut I got them all..., Wed 3 Sep 2008, 15:55, Reply)

Burned
Me: 'Hi, can I buy you a drink?'

Her: 'I would lick my own liquified turds off Rick Waller's testicles before I let you buy me a drink'

Bit harsh.
(quantum raspberry quizzically quashing Quebecans, Wed 3 Sep 2008, 15:32, 8 replies)

My Side
Animanga has already posted her side of things, about how I supposedly stole her email address from a Data Protected Database (for that read opened Outlook and looked in Volunteer Contacts) then sent her some lovely emails which led, after a bit of stuff and things, to a house together and a beautiful son.

But what got me to go out with her, although I was very very smitten, was this text after we had both been out for the night in different places,

"I'm a scruffy hungover chick today, sitting in bed in a vest top eating something very greasy and reading graphic novels."

Now you'll fall into one of two camps, those that find that frankly a bit weird, and those who see exactly what I mean about falling in love that wee bit more after getting that text. Being B3tans I bet more of you think it's very sweet.


Then she sent me, "DS9 is gay: Discuss" which undid all her good work.
( Cheeses of Nazareth Where's Captain Kirk? www.whereiskirk.com, Wed 3 Sep 2008, 15:21, 2 replies)

I still look back on this and cringe
I have never been good with women, I’m a very confident guy, but when I fancy someone, I lock up and become silly. One story I remember from school goes like so:

When i was about 15/16, i was besotted by a girl called Gemma. She was amazing, had an amazing figure, an amazing laugh, and was a great flirt.

I looked forward to the classes we would be in together, and would hate the days she was off. We became good friends, and ended up sharing the same science course. We would regularly go to the library after school. She would study, but as i saw it as a chance to look at her (not in a pervy way - well, perhaps a bit, but mainly because just to look at her sent waves of pleasure throughout me) I hardly ever got any studying done because of this, but she never knew that.

One day, she invited me and another friend to her grandma’s house to help study. She said we could stay over as her Nan was away and she was house sitting. I arrived and found she already had a friend there. She left soon after, leaving me and Gemma alone. She then explained that our other friend wouldn’t be coming. so it would be just us two, alone. My hormone filled mind starts racing on possibilities, why HAS she invited me here.. ?

So... we begin by getting out books to read.

we realise after about 10 minutes this was boring, instead we cook some food and spend the next 3 hrs watching Titanic. Then Bed time.

I had not made any advance on Gemma, but i wanted her so bad. My mind was shouting all sorts of things at me:

Should i make a pass? nah, she doesnt fancy me... or does she? she invited me here - on our own... nah - she just wants to study.

Then bedtime, she wondered off to her nans bedroom and i walked over to the sofa, fluffed up a pillow and closed my eyes. Gemma then popped her head around the door and invited me to her nans bedroom

"im not going to bite you know" she giggled

i was confused.

"this beds big enough for two people" she squeaked in her amazingly sexy voice.

and so i followed her, clenching my fists shouting yes, yes! Secretly to myself...

we lay down either side of the bed.

Then the questions in my head started, i didn’t want to risk loosing her i was a close friend, and being that close wasn’t worth risking.

my adrenalin level had never been so high.

Just to be that close when i more or less love her would be too much to risk. Should i put my arm on her? should i hug her? NO i cant, i could loose everything!!


and there i lay, not even making a pass at her my eyes wide awake, she slept. and i just watched her. Even though i could not kiss her, or hug her for fear i would loose her forever, i was content (to an extent) with what i had. 6hrs later she woke up. I left. Cursing my self all the way home.

My Nieve brain clouding my judgment.

I look back and wonder what could have been. She was my princess, my heart, my everything, and she never knew.

a few years passed and i went to Uni, and got that call.

"Russ!"

"oh Hi Gem - what’s up?"

"I’m going to be a mummy"

"Great!" i said in the best possible convincing voice, when in reality i had just been shot with a bowling ball to the stomach. she had got preganant to a lad she had been seeing for a few months.

I have seen her once since, this was about 8 yrs ago. I still love her.
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Wed 3 Sep 2008, 14:50, 5 replies)

Mrs BOF
walked up to me and said "Hello"... 5 years ago. That's all it took. Bofkin due in January.
(bof, Wed 3 Sep 2008, 14:47, 1 reply)

Hot Dogs for Sara with an H
She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen as a 6 year old boy, her every move captivated me and I would do almost anything to hold her hand or be close to her. I would sit next to her cross legged so that my knees would touch hers in assembly, I would always partner up with her in country dancing lessons and she was the only girl I would play kiss chase with. I was even brilliant at skipping (jump rope)by the time I finished primary school.

Then came the day I had to confess my feelings to her, I grabbed my favourite colouring pencils and penned a letter so colourful and carefully crafted it was a beautiful and true reflection of my feelings towards her. It Read…

Sara I love you.

I was too shy to reveal my name however, just witnessing her face burst into a radiant smile because someone had a crush on her would have left me happy for the rest of the day. So I left the letter in her work tray during play time and waited with baited anticipation.

When she found the letter she was more peeved that someone had spelt her name wrong (SARA'H') than happy that someone felt warm snuggly feelings towards her (women complicated creatures). She made it her mission to test everyone in the class about how to spell her name correctly, only I got it wrong.

Then she invited me over to her house to eat hot dogs. She was a good kisser though. – feels proper pervy being 30 yrs old and reliving that memory.
(TwinkleFuckingToes Has a ingrown toe nail, Wed 3 Sep 2008, 14:37, Reply)

Don't forget chaps
when a woman gets married there are three things on her mind.

Aisle, Altar, Hymn.

(say it out loud)




My coat? Why thank you
( Mrs Entity is in hiding., Wed 3 Sep 2008, 14:22, 6 replies)

Id like to reccomned:
bigmeuprudeboy

my darling wife and I got together on the reccomendation of a friend of ours who'd been regularly sampling my 'delights' but who I'd got bored of. The PRECISE recommedation that I overheard was:

'Hes not massive by any means but he fúcks like a train and his tongue made me wet enough to slide off the bed'

a charming introduction and a unique insight into the sort of calibre of women I used to knock about with
( bigmeuprudeboy is using powerpoint or paint...have MERCY, Wed 3 Sep 2008, 12:55, Reply)

Threesome anyone...?

The temptation to turn this into a full-on stinking stonking joke post was almost overpowering, but in the interest of ‘keeping it real’, I’ll tell it how it actually happened… for a change. Who cares about clicks anyway?

This was one of the only times I can (currently) remember being properly propositioned in ‘open play’ (I don’t count times when I was in the band…). Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite as glamorous, romantic or even erotic as I thought it would be.

A while ago, I was with a few friends getting arseholingly squiffy on a Saturday night in my local. It was late, and the smell of stale smoke, strong lager and weak bladders hung in the air like the antichrist of ‘Febreeze’…

I noticed a woman across the room doing her best impression of a ‘pouting diva’…or as good an impression as is possible to do when you’re shitfaced on Bacardi Breezers.

Our eyes met… (accidentally in my case) and straight away she approached me and sat down by my side.

“Hello” she chirped.

Oozing charm and radiating an almost heroic ‘studmuffin-ness’* I stuttered back:”Erm…hello”.

She then nodded her head in the direction of her giggling companion and fawned: “Me and my friend were just wondering if you would like to come back to my place for a…..’

At this point I watched her take something out of her purse and felt her press it into the palm of my hand. I looked down to see what 'it' was…

It was……a screw.

‘Awww’ I thought for a second…before the mongtoid hamster snoozing in my head finally understood what was going on, and the reality of the situation hit home like a breezeblock nailed to an Exorcet Missile…

‘Hang on a minute!’ I thought.

Being scrote-strokingly proud of my powers of intuition, three things immediately sprang to my attention, making me realise this was not the ‘dream come-on’ I had at first suspected.

1. I was married – and was wearing the ring and everything. She saw this, understood…and just didn’t care. This meant she was of highly questionable morals (and not just in the good way either.)

2. The women just weren’t my type. Neither of them. I mean, they were attractive enough, but they just didn’t ‘tazer me in the nad department’. Call me ‘more old fashioned than Joan of Arc’s panty liner’, but there’s always time for a modicum of class (even I have standards you know). Overly forward slappers just don’t make the cream rise to the surface of my milk bottle if you know what I mean.

3. I realised the only reason somebody would actually carry a screw in their purse would be either a) because they were being ever vigilant for any fiendish 'picture-hanging emergency', or b) it was a well used prop for a no doubt equally well used chat up line. I deduced from this that collectively, they probably would have had more 'dongs' and 'wangs' than a Chinese phonebook. Their flanges would have no doubt been so capacious that I may as well have had to reach my hand inside and tug off my own custard-coughing cucumber mid-session…should I accept their (admittedly generous) offer.

Looking for guidance, I glanced over to my mates, who were still reeling from the collective state of shock of witnessing that not only had I been propositioned (and they hadn’t), but it was also a potential threesome situation. CODE RED!

Their unanimous decision as to my course of action was swift, and they motioned towards me in the usual timeless, mature, gentlemanly way…

They each placed their left hand palms in their right arm elbow pits, before bending and raising said right arms…whilst shaking their right fists at me exclaiming “Phwoooar! – Get in there boy!” etc., en chorus with enthusiastic, yet sensitive overtones.

I looked back at my potential ‘conquest’…who by this point was eying me up and down as if she was mentally marking out the best cuts of meat for herself…and I replied:

“Erm…sorry…but no thank you” I muttered before gazing sheepishly back into my pint.

She got up despondently and wiggled back to her friend. I was then subjected to the kind of ritualistic, arse-tearing abuse from my mates that they seem to spend years researching before storing in stasis for occasions such as these.

It may go down in my life history as the one (or two) that got away…but at least it’s something for the wank-bank**…

And I’ll always have something interesting to tell my grandchildren whilst I sit there dribbling over my Werthers Originals and prune juice...



*ok, that bit was a lie

** besides, I’ve had threesomes before…but that’s something for another QotW
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Wed 3 Sep 2008, 10:14, 19 replies)

Lunar Jim's Exploits - the early years
1. Beverley
A 'She-man' from Castleford and the daughter of a local scrap metal merchant, she had hairy toes and boss-eyes. I admired her ample thighs from afar before asking her out through the medium of dance. A couple of pas-de-deux and a dying swan later and she was ensnared.

2. Mercedes.
A passionate Latino with a chest like a dead heat in a zeppelin race and vaginal muscles that could milk a prize cow, we spent a sultry summer in Capri before I gingerly ventured that she might like to go out on a date with me to see the lights of naples.
She bellowed and gesticulated in what I could only believe to be a declaration of war, before embracing me deeply and forcing her tongue into the very bottom of my aesophagus.

3. Hilary
The daughter of an undertaker, and with a constant streak of maudlin in her, she wore black and only black. I suppose I saw her as a sort of plump morticia adams, and had visions of us making out in the chapel of rest.
She spurned my overtures and instead went out with a gangly creature from the nearby independant school called Jeremy.

4. Sandra
The barmaid in a local hostelry, she had lips like a fresh trout and wore only the sluttiest clothes, barely covering her shame.
I easily asked her out, but was shocked and dismayed on removing her panties to realise she was actually a transexual called Philip.
(Vic Flange, Wed 3 Sep 2008, 9:51, 1 reply)

My sweetheart
I was posting to a humour group on Usenet (that's what we used to use before message boards, kids) and she liked my sense of humour. She followed the link in my signature to my webpage (that's what we used to have before FaceSpace, kids) where I had a few short stories I'd written. She emailed me (that's what we used to use before instant messaging, kids - okay, maybe people still use that one) suggesting that as a creative writing teacher, she could maybe review my stuff and give me some pointers?

Never one to turn down free professional advice I eagerly agreed and we started to correspond. Strangely very little reviewing was done - there was rather more idle chit-chat and gradually intensifying flirting.

I guess the point where we crossed the line from chatting to flirting was when she suggested baking me some cookies, and I avowed that I looked forward to someday nibbling on her tasty treats. It started to get intense after that.

Then we moved to ICQ (is that still around?), until finally the first phonecall.

I thought my heart was going to burst from my chest and run around the room like a hyperactive terrier on smack, but I managed to get through it without making a complete tit of myself. I have no idea what either of us said, I just remember the way her voice made me feel - as it still does, ten years on.

Since then we still talk on the phone on a regular basis; she's visited here several times and I've been over there twice (she lives halfway round the world from me). Still talking about one of us moving to the other, but not quite got there yet, as we're both a bit lazy. In a year or two, perhaps...
( The Light in Chains don't touch the Pope's boner, Wed 3 Sep 2008, 7:10, 7 replies)

Rudely awoken by cats and rain so here I go..
Last year I met a guy through a friend who was wonderful, lets call him Mr B. We were both a bit shy probably due to a slight age gap, so it took a while to get going. Had a relationship til about May when we both agreed to put it on hold because we didnt see each other enough. Ironically after that we saw each other a lot more frequently exchanging kisses and I love you's (that bits important later on) over the past few months we grew closer than we'd ever been thus talking a lot about getting back together and making it serious again.

Cut to a few wednesdays ago when I was invited round for a shin dig at his and his bro's. Knowing that alcohol and lack of friends to guide me (I do have them but they were all convieniently away) would be a really bad idea, I politely declined claiming that I wouldnt know any one..

..Somehow talked into going I prepared myself by drinking wine for a bit of dutch courage and set off. Due to alcohol consumption this was in the wrong direction!

Later than planned but a bit less drunk I arrived only to by plied with more alcohol and God knows what else and a few hours later ended up in his bed. I bet you can see where this is going...

Lying there talking I casually slipped in a quick 'I love you' (see) only to have him laugh in my face and be really quite mean about the whole thing and I cried for about half an hour.. However, by this point I was pretty well oiled and it had been a while so we got down to it.

When I woke up feeling immensly pissed off (and rather unfulfilled) he was a complete tw*t so I headed home (in the right direction) and sat in the same t-shirt I wore that night for two days wallowing in my own self pity. My mood only lifted by a close friend of mine wanting to go for a drink because he just found out his lady of 2 years had been sleeping with her ex for 6 months. Happy days!

The day after the party, if you could call it that, he went on holiday and during those 24hrs I didnt have the balls to question him about it and I didnt really know what I wanted to say anyway.

But now I do. He's back this weekend! He shall fear my wrath!!




Apologies as I have lurked but I havn't really had anything worth while to contribute.. And I dont think this counts either.
(i should have joined myspace, Wed 3 Sep 2008, 3:52, 2 replies)

A line that worked on me just a few days ago...
"Come round now. I'll fuck you senseless".

I did, and he did.

Brilliant it was.
(Mary Mandolin still had it on, Tue 2 Sep 2008, 23:24, 5 replies)

Poemetry
I wrote the current love of my life (and mother of my children (and wearer of all my Be Cheeky purchases) a poem in her own language. Four lines, and it rhymed and made sense. (Which is pretty damn good for poetry in any language!)
4 years later the only meaningful sentence I can say in the language is that poem.
Which is a problem when I really want a loaf of bread and a pint (whoops litre) of milk.
(godisdove I like cheese, Tue 2 Sep 2008, 22:59, 3 replies)