short but sweet and honestly not me (i'd be proud if it were)
a former coworker told the story of how she and her husband first knew they were for each other. he asked her out and told her to meet her in front of a pretty fancy spot in soho. she was shocked because no one had ever taken her anywhere so fancy before. she proceeded to get gussied up excitedly. the night came, she wandered on down to the spot and found him standing there smiling with two brown bags. handed her one and then they both had a couple roadies to drink as they went a few blocks around and hung out in a dive bar for the night.... that is true love to me.
(jessekillerkay, Sat 30 Aug 2008, 2:31, Reply)

Tis a sad and sordid story that ends happily with lesbian lust!
I split up with my Ex some time before, not because we hated each other, but because I think I wanted it more than him. He was lovely, but alas not The One. You see, my Mother read my Tarot and told me, you are going to meet a guy, but he will not stay and then you will meet the one.

I turned to Gaydar Girls, a lovely sight of a site where lots of beautiful elegant ladies all ignored me or told me that they just wanted to be friends.

Then I had a message from out of the blue. "Sat here sulking, scanning profiles, thought you looked like the sort of person I would get on with so thought I would say hi."

Hmm I think, sulking, sounds like my kind of girl so I replied and said that I was still a bit heart sore being freshly single by a couple of months. Then ping, a new message arrives. "Being just out of a relationship then we are both in the same situation, maybe we could 'not settle down' together sometime?"

We ended up swapping messages for ages and in the end even Gaydar Girls got fed up with us and we turned to e-mail and then phone calls. I missed her first call, I was doing something private, being recently post op TS (Oh the shock, I am admitting that I am Transsexual and a lesbian all in one post! Trans and proud me...)I needed to catch up with my physio. She left me a profane and ear splitting message on my answer phone that had me in fits of giggles.
I phoned her back and we talked non stop for an hour, exhausted we wished each other good night.

Then I was attacked in work by a group of school kids in a trans-phobic attack. I mention this because it is important. I left the area rapidly for the house of a good friend, who lived an hour and a half away from who shall for now call the one. The time away was just what I needed, but my heart ached to be so close to the one and yet so far away, also my friend, although a wonderful artist was experimenting with house dust and spider webs and I have a dust allergy.

The one met me at the railway station and I saw her right away, long leather coat, dark glasses and all in black. Very Matrix... I got through the gates and we met each other for the first time, but no words passed between us...

Well they couldn't, you see the world had faded away and all that existed was our first kiss, it was one of the most beautiful moments in my life, even beating the moment I woke up as a girl for the first time. I was to stay with her for two days, but this turned into a week and I had missed my train home again. So she popped me in her car and drove me home so I could go back to work...

I made it through half a day before I could stand it no more, four years of trans-phobic abuse by the kids at work had left me feeling hunted and miserable. Nothing happened to the kids who assaulted me and I felt like a target waiting to be attacked again. I phoned The One and said please come and get me and she did. She drove me to my Doctor and my Doctor told me I was too ill to be in work due to stress and fear. I was already taking huge amounts of antidepressants to cope with the abuse in the school. I cried a lot.

The one is called Carol and she is beautiful, red hair, eyes to drown in and a smile that can bring me to tears of joy. I love her with all of my heart, she rescued me and helped me get off of the drugs I was taking for depression, she got me out of a town where I was so unhappy and even bullied. She made me realise that I am a lovely woman and I do not have to be ashamed of my past anymore. She helped me start again and then she...


Proposed to me.

Carol, with all of my heart, I love you. How could I say no to the woman who taught me to be free?

Length:- none at all, it's an inny now!
( Rev. Jayneflakes Buy my book, I need the cash for drugs and hookers, Sat 30 Aug 2008, 1:33, 8 replies)

my boyfriend...
is an inch shorter than me, 15 years older than me (i'm 25 and he's 40), has been married, has done too much acid, can't cook anything other than fish with steamed vegetables, owns 148 black band t-shirts but just one pair of jeans and he earns less than me.
when i was ill he brought me softcore porn to watch- this was about a week before we started dating. a brave move i thought.
it then took him a year or so to get drunk enough to tell me he fancied me... which consisted of him knocking on my door at around 1am, slurring something about my smile and making me laugh...
i woke up in his bed the next day (i was sober by the way, and can't entirely explain how he seduced me) and have woken up with him every other day or so for about 6 months now, and the bastard is making me fall in love with him.

he said he knew i was the girl for him when i quoted Brasseye as i poured him a pint (i was a barmaid you see.) and later called him a 'silly c*nt' whilst wearing a very tight skirt. this apparently is a magical combination for some men. or one man at least...

he isn't the man i pictured being with, and i tried not to like him that way for ages, being shallow enough to let his height bother me, but he's pretty amazing. very amazing.

silly cunt that he is.
(missmissy, Sat 30 Aug 2008, 1:18, 2 replies)

Redhead
.
I went out with a redhead once.

No body. Just this big, red, head.


Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Sat 30 Aug 2008, 1:16, 4 replies)

Upon meeting my lover to be for the first time I'd had alot to drink...
A-fucking-lot.

So much so, that when the club closed and we headed off to a little secluded club to chill at a table and have a drink, I got down on one knee and asked her to marry me whilst pulling out my keys to put on her finger.

Twice.

Other snippets from past adventures with my penis...

Telling a girl she looked just like the girl I watched on a bongo movie the night previous (again, pissed).

There are more, but my minds gone blank.
(billybobbean is still trying to make it QOTW's best of the week, Sat 30 Aug 2008, 0:52, Reply)

Current
I met my current girlfriend about six weeks ago at a friends party. It was a bit of a shitfest but things started looking up as I got more inebriated. I saw a good looking redhead and wandered over for a chat. Things were going well, she was single and seemed to like me, so I got her to come for a walk outside. Just as we reached the driveway a police car pulled up and stopped 20 metres ahead of us. My brain in it's drink addled state told me to fucking leg it. Obviously this would not make the police suspicious in any way. I grabbed Sarah, for that is her name, and ran for it. I ran to the bottom of the garden with Sarah and we hopped the fence and bolted into next doors garden. Thinking quick I made the executive decision that we would hide in the shed, which was unlocked and empty. After waiting it out for half an hour I decided the coast would be clear. We crept out of the shed and around the large garden until we reached the road. Sarah asked me to walk her back to her house which was about a mile down the road. I obliged and although she didn't invite me in we swapped numbers and she said she would call when she was more sober.

As I was walking back to the party I heard people shouting and when I got nearer I realised they were calling my name. A few of my mates had come looking for me after they saw me run for it, and thought I might have fallen down a ditch or something. They then explained the police presence. A burnt out car had been abandoned near the house and the police wanted to know if it belonged to one of us. They weren't trying to arrest us as I had thought, they even came inside and watched some of the lads playing guitar hero before going off to catch some real criminals.

Sarah phoned me the next day and I decided to leave out the real reason behind the police 'raid'. I told her it was due to reports of drug use and disturbing the peace. When I asked her out she said yes, 'How can I turn the guy who saved me from a criminal record down?' She still doesn't know.

Length? She seems satisfied.
(InGear Slipped this one in on, Sat 30 Aug 2008, 0:44, Reply)

Brought up this question in the pub earlier
"Can I guff in your chuff?"

Yes I know I'm sad and that I'm home early.
( Captain V, Fri 29 Aug 2008, 23:58, Reply)

they put a chip in my brain

( SkUG >_O i got a couple of stitches in my eyeball... ow, Fri 29 Aug 2008, 23:22, Reply)

Current and some previous
Well, the current squeeze....First I asked him round for a cuppa...then told him 'I'd like to get to know you better' . Been two weeks since that time n all seems good. Sex is great.

Previous boyf...he did he running..just happened. 3 month thing. No spark there.

Him before that....In a club asked him 'Have you got any pills mate'. A soul mate who I was with just over a year....before splitting..as I was going into Rehab. Sex was electric.

One before that.....I challenged him to a game of pool. Cant remember the sex bit.

That takes me back till the age of 21. Anything before that is just embarrasing!

Nope, not funny....but there we are.
(Oops....did I say that out loud cos I really bloody want to., Fri 29 Aug 2008, 23:12, 1 reply)

I think alot of the male B3tans will empathise with this
picturesforsadchildren.com/index.php?comicID=171
( willenium Fist bump for verification, Fri 29 Aug 2008, 21:54, 3 replies)

My laptop came to the rescue
Well, I was a sad, lifeless fat lump. I'd just been turbodumped by the (extremely) ex. I spent my long, lonely, evenings slumped at my computers, hoping that somewhere out there was a beautiful, sweet, sexy, smart, intelligent and wonderful woman, who for some bizarre reason would throw her normal caution to the wind and go out with me.

I tried visiting the local wishing well, and that didn't work (although DemiGod got a new teddy and some trains - what's that about?!?)

I tried joining a dating agency, but I was turned down because I didn't own a car(!!!)

So I went Internet dating. That... well... was interesting. In the same way that a half pint of castor oil is interesting. I couldn't take it any more.

Late one night, I decided to end it all. Oh, not *that*, just to give up on this whole Internet dating lark. And so I signed on to the dating site for the last ever time. Who'd have guessed that the 'search for eligible beauties in your local vicinity' button was right next to the 'delete my profile, I've decided I'll die lonely and unwanted, and be eaten by my pet cats' button?

I clicked the wrong one. Then, to be fair, in a beer-fuelled haze, I clicked a few other wrong buttons. The usual profiles passed before my eyes... then one caught my eye. Who on earth would describe themselves as being like "Princess Fiona (Shrek 2 version)"?

And that, dear reader, was the question I couldn't leave alone. I'd always admired Princess Fiona, and thought that she was the woman for me (OK, she'd never leave Shrek, but hey, I can dream).

Slowly, I extended a nervous, trembling finger. Followed by 7 more, and two thumbs. I sent this woman a message... Could this be it? Could my long, lonely, dark existence finally be over? Was that finally a crack (ooer) in the darkness?

She replied... I replied...

Soon, I was racing home from work to get on my laptop and chat on messenger to my Princess Fiona. Hours would pass, as we typed back and forth (her in pink, me in purple, naturally).

One day, we decided to meet up. When we found each other in Birmingham, she turned to face me, and smiled an intoxicating, beautiful, wonderful, astonishing, breathtaking, perfect smile. And she had great tits.

That was four years and more than a million kisses ago. As I type, still on the same laptop, she's leaning on my shoulder, and I'm still the happiest person in the world.

My own personal fairy tale, and it's all true.
(purplegod counting down for Christmas!, Fri 29 Aug 2008, 21:51, 4 replies)

The Neverending Story*
* which ends just below.

When I was nine years old, there was a girl in my year at school called Christina. She was blonde, confident and pretty; I was aiming high. She reminded me of The Childlike Empress from kidflick "The Neverending Story," and she had me captivated the moment I layed eyes on her.

I hatched a plan to express my undying, nine-year old love to this fantastical girl of my dreams. I spent days rehearsing what I was going to say, how I was going to say it, preparing a small gift for her and my reaction when she fell into my arms.

The day of reckoning was upon me, and I arrived at school almost shaking with anticipation of First Break, when my efforts would come to fruition. I sat nervously through the first two lessons, checking the gift was safe in my pocket, and looking through the window to check the weather was just right for my moment, our moment.

First Break broke, and I rushed out to the playground to find Christina, and offer my heart to her. She was there, with her friends across the playground, and I approached with all the grace of a nervous sealion in the midst of an epileptic fit. I wiped my brow as I approached the group, one of her friends nodded towards me and the shining beauty turned around to face me. All the noises of the playground seemed to quiet, the wind dropped, and everything, everything came to this:

"I think I love you. Will you marry me?" I asked, and thrust my hand into my pocket, pulling out the gift I'd spent hours preparing, and offered it to her.

It was a Lego man, on a bed of cotton-wool, in a matchbox.

She took it from me, opened it, and stifled a giggle. She looked at me... looked through me, and said "No."
( Noeli overtheshoulderboulderholderthingstraplatchboobs, Fri 29 Aug 2008, 20:28, 6 replies)

Not sure if this is on topic, but anyhow ...
Roughly a million years ago, I worked for the same company as Mrs Onefish's sister & best friend.
Mrs Onefish worked for a printing company just down the road and often used to pop round for post-work drinks, so I got to know her to a degree.
Her printy employers owned a subsidiary which specialised in the finishing of the toppest of top shelf magazines, presumably enabling her to have some access to such paper based delights.
I arrived at work one morning to find a torn out magazine image of (in balmy pre-internet days) quite startling obscenity stuck to my monitor, with a note attached saying "Shall we go out for a drink?"
We've just celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary, and I love her more dearly every day.
Thank the Lord for Gutenburg.
(onefishtwofish Redfishbluefish, Fri 29 Aug 2008, 20:24, 2 replies)

Nothing you can say, can take me away from my guy...
The Story of Creepy Dave

Creepy Dave is, as his name suggests, creepy. 22 years of age, never had a girlfriend, V-plates very much intact and frankly a little too keen to rip them up. I got to know of him, unsurprisingly, through Stalker Girl, who at one time fancied her chances with him (and was rebuffed - apparently Creepy Dave wasn't that keen to pop his man-cherry).

In addition to his irritating habit of referring to me and Stalker Girl as his "hobbit friends" (okay, so we are both pretty tiny, as anyone who saw me at the Finsbury Park bash will testify, but that's frankly offensive, only slightly less likely to make me cunt you in the fuck than the M-word and I seriously go postal if anyone calls me that) and generally considering us as one person, Creepy Dave has an annoying habit of latching on to girls he's interested in and either coming on to them in really overblown, disturbing ways, or else writing long and emo poems about the despair of unrequited love. There were a couple of girls he was friends with that I knew of that he decided to try it on with, and from what I could gather failed miserably.

Creepy Dave did, however, leave me alone until the end of our final year of uni. I found myself waiting around to take my French oral exam a couple of months ago and was unfortunate enough to find myself in the company of Creepy Dave, who offered to send me some music. I gave him my email address, not thinking he'd do me any harm as he was ostensibly chasing some poor girl he'd known for ages (much of the conversation consisted of how badly he failed with women).

Sure enough, Creepy Dave adds me to MSN within the next couple of weeks, and at first behaves pretty much normally. However, a couple of weeks of normal conversation later, the alarm bells begin to ring. At this time, I had neither a job nor a flat down here and was facing the prospect of living with my parents again. I mentioned this in passing to Creepy Dave, to receive the following response:

"Well babe I don't know what to suggest other than you fall in love with me and share my bed."
"Dave, you know I have a boyfriend and you know I'm moving in with him."
"Sorry babe but your boyfriend's a cock and I think you'd be better off with me."
"..."

This continued on and off for some time until he said "well having stalked this man on Facebook, I can honestly say that I am prettier than him and I am a gentleman. I am not like other men for I do not think with my penis. Sometimes I am ashamed to be male."

First of all I was slightly perturbed that he'd gone to the effort of looking Mr Maladicta up on Facebook, and by this time had let him know Creepy Dave was harassing me from time to time. Mr Maladicta promptly returns the favour, looks Creepy Dave (and his lovely emo poetry) up on Facebook, before bursting into hysterics "This berk thinks he has a chance with my girl? He looks like a mole! He tries it on again, you send him to me."

Not particularly wanting to involve Mr Maladicta and his plastic katana in the situation unless I have to, I decide that if I keep resisting, Creepy Dave has to eventually get bored and ask someone else to read his love poems. Unfortunately, this doesn't happen, and the offers of "you should come and live with me babe, I have a double bed ;)" become more and more frequent, and when he has to go "sorry babe, but I can't stay, you're becoming far too sexy a distraction". All in all, he does his best to charm me away from Mr Maladicta by the various methods of "he's a cock", "I am prettier than him, he's not good enough for my little friend", "I'm a gentleman" and "I have a double bed".

These serve no purpose other than to irritate me, especially the day I told him I wasn't going to the Summer Ball because neither I nor Mr Maladicta could afford it ("for me babe?" "No." "It'll be fun, when am I going to see my little friend again?" "I can't justify two lots of £42, plus suit hire for [Mr Maladicta] for a few hours in the union, NO, Dave, I will not go to the ball with you." "*sulks*") and eventually I tire of Creepy Dave refusing to tire of trying it on and hit my favourite button, the Block button.

All is peaceful for several weeks, until graduation. Having already successfully dodged having to talk to Stalker Girl (although I did have to make small talk with her mum, which was awkward at best) and having had long chats to most of my lecturers punctuated by my dad calling me an idiot in front of them for wanting to stay put (he did put a serious downer on my day and no mistake), I am chatting to a friend of mine when I feel an arm snake around my waist. And rests there like it's known me in the biblical sense for years and so has every right to be there.

My train of thought goes thusly: Mr Maladicta is not here, he is at work, and will be until 6pm. The time now is 4.30pm and if Mr Maladicta comes to campus he has to ring me because he doesn't have a clue where the hell he's going. Therefore, whoever has their arm around my waist is not my boyfriend and is possibly drunk. Therefore again, whoever has their arm around my waist is going to get a kick in the knackers if they don't let go and to hell with ceremony.

As inevitably as the tides, I look up to see Creepy Dave happily grinning down at me and thinking he's finally got a piece of Maladicta. I quickly disentangle myself from his claws and force a smile worthy of a politician.

"Hello hobbit! You coming to the union tonight? Come on, one last pissup!"
"No, I've got a friend coming to stay and I can't sign him in, if anything we'll just go to the pub."
(This was actually true, my friend Bob was coming down to stay and we were going to the pub, plus Bob really isn't a clubbing man, more of a ceilidh type).
"Aww little one, are you sure you can't come? Last Venue ever... for me?"
"No. I've been avoiding the Venue all year for a good reason... it's shit."
"Aww, so I really can't persuade you to come and get drunk and dance with me? Will you let me know if you go to the pub? I'll come join you."
"Yeah, Dave, sure... it'll probably be in town somewhere."
"Ooo. One more thing."

Creepy Dave produces a camera and asks the girl I've been talking to if she'd mind snapping a photo of us "to remind me of the little one". He then grabs my waist again and holds on, before I can say "no, go away" or tell Claire not to take it.

So now there is a photo of me on Facebook pulling the most horrific fake smile you've ever seen and clearly not enjoying being molested by Creepy Dave. I had to untag it just because I was ashamed of it, and I have a horrible mental image of Creepy Dave going round to his mates going "I've had her". Gaz me and I'll link you to the photo.
( Maladicta, Fri 29 Aug 2008, 20:16, 8 replies)

simple
My wife has a longer, more romantic version. But for me the clincher was when she thrust her hand down my pants, grabbed my schlong and dragged me into the bedroom by it, telling me to pork her immediately and not to worry about a condom because she was on the pill.

Who wouldn't marry a girl like that? We've been together for 8 years and this year on holiday in Greece she sucked me dry as we sat at the back of a busy bus.

Yep, she's a keeper.
(frankspencer, Fri 29 Aug 2008, 20:08, 4 replies)

i was sitting in a burning building with some raisons
i leapt from the window and threw myself into the lake.

only my current flame wouldnt go out with me.

arf arf arf.
(ladyintheradiator, Fri 29 Aug 2008, 19:56, Reply)

I just noticed the actual question of the week is 'Will you go out with me?'
the answer is no.
(ladyintheradiator, Fri 29 Aug 2008, 19:53, Reply)

Cheesy but it worked
Not current, but hey.

A pleasant early summer's day a few years ago. I'd effectively already graduated from uni, having no finals and my dissertation handed in. Life was good so I was hitting the uni bar regularly.

We're out at the uni club, at my favourite indie night. Within 5 minutes of walking in, a girl catches my eye. Being nicely drunk, I believe I winked and wandered off. More general fun was had, until again this girl catches my eye, in another part of the club. Somewhat (and much alcohol) later, there she is again. Alcohol-induced confidence means it storm over this time and declare:

'Are you following me?'.

Cue much bumping and grinding and a night at her place. And a very, very lovely summer of fun with her before I stuffed it up by skipping the country for a while. Ach, too many regrets.
(Ikkle, Fri 29 Aug 2008, 19:49, 1 reply)

"I'm looking for a nice woman..."
Yes, and I'm 16 and you're at least 60.

Even better when we discovered that the same man had accosted a friend's mum on the same part of the street.

Double better when my sister came in from work (a newsagent down the same road) about a year later and said, "I got asked out at work today, by this really old man who said he was looking for a nice woman..."
(and now for someone completely different, Fri 29 Aug 2008, 19:44, Reply)

I don't have a current flame
So let me instead give appropriate titles to the ones who almost were.
The drummer
The fake photos
The fake ID
The hot but not looking for a relationship (x12)
The stalker
The German
The scary odd guy from across the road
The guy who wanks to Hyacinth Bouquet/Bucket (ok, this was a neighbour, but disturbing all the same)
The one with a penchant for hookers
The celebrity lookalike

This is mostly due to internet dating which I've been doing on and off for the last two years. Several of them I still speak to and can hold decent conversations with, the rest are wrapped in brown paper in my cellar*

Edit: Just read all of this weeks's QOTW on my phone and it looks like I'm not the only one who hasn't ever been asked out so happies for that :)


*may not be entirely true
( fuck shit up the best you never had, Fri 29 Aug 2008, 19:41, 6 replies)

Catharsis *don't feel you need to read - it's long, not funny, and probably quite self-pitying*
Met a girl about a year ago - friend of a friend. We got on really well, she made it quite clear she liked me, but, whilst I thought she was attractive, I was more interested in friendship.

Eventually, after about two months, we went out together, we got drunk and the inevitable happened. The next day I tried to do the 'right thing' (at least what I thought it was - comments anyone?) and told her that, whilst I did care about her, I really saw her as a friend and that I didn't want to use her for sex.

Anyway, over the next 6 months we did sleep together again quite a few times (maybe 10/12?) (often with me repeating the 'I don't want to do that anymore' line the next day*).

She always said she didn't want a boyfriend, that she just liked me and that we could just enjoy the sex - it didn't have to mean anything (yes, I should have twigged then).

I always told her that, to me, sex does mean something: sleeping with someone you only like as a friend is using that friendship** and I didn't want to use her that way because I cared about her.

Anyway, after 6 months or so the opportunity came up to go to a music festival together. Some of my favorite bands were playing and I really wanted to go. But, I knew a weekend of drunkness in a tent would mean us sleeping together again and I was determined to do the 'right thing' and stop.

So, I told I didn't want to go, and why. I told her I really liked spending time with her and that I wanted to continue doing that and didn't want to feel like I was just using her anymore - she was worth more to me than that.

She went to said festival with another friend. Whilst there she met a complete stranger and had a one-night stand, telling me when she came back.

A week or two later she told me she'd been to another concert, another one-night stand.

This week she told me she's met another guy. She also admitted she has no idea how many guys she has slept with - over 30 in the last 2 years (though neither of us was (to my knowledge) sleeping with anyone else whilst we were still sleeping together). I knew she had had a number of boyfriends before but now she admits that most were just one-night stands.

I want to be friends with her, when meet up just the two of us we actually seem to get on better than when we were sleeping together, but I hate the fact she is sleeping around so much. And that she tells me all about all the guys she meets. And that when she's with her friends she now ignores me - even though she says she still wants me to go out with her.

I'm still trying to decide if the friendship can work - especially since I've met someone else now. I'd miss her as a friend (and regret spoiling the friendship by thinking with my cock when I'm drunk), but her sleeping around so much still gets to me - I guess because, although I didn't see us in a relationship, I did want the sex to mean something and now it's clear it didn't.

I know, I'm messed up.

Sorry you had to read all that.

*Ladies, I know that makes me a cnut...
**I know it didn't always stop me doing it (see*)
(ComplexStuff Was confused by life on, Fri 29 Aug 2008, 19:20, 2 replies)

This is slightly complex...
... and possibly not entirely on topic. So apologies before I even start.

I can't use any names because at least one of the guys involved reads this and I have no idea if any of the others do.

Starting way back in the mists of time when I was still at high school I encountered a truly awesome person (who I shall call "A" for the purposes of this tale). There was a big group of us who would take over a classroom during lunchtime because we were of a slightly geekier persuasion than most of the others at school.

So, me and A got to talking quite a lot. When the original group finally disbanded due to people leaving to go to university or just hanging out with different people; me, A and a couple of others continued hanging out at lunchtimes. But in a different room with the internet (yay!). That sounds like an irrelevant fact, but I don't think it is since it kept the other guys distracted. We'd sit and talk and generally have a laugh. School was so much more bearable with him to look forward to at lunchtimes.

Sitting together, holding hands and hugging. It doesn't get much better than that. The other guys assumed we were going out, as did everyone else I spoke to. Maybe we were, but nothing was ever said or even needed to be said. We just knew and didn't need to say anything.

Then comes the downside. He left the school completely, and when I went to the meeting place for our little group I was told "A isn't here anymore". Didn't even get a chance to say goodbye. So I abandoned those sons-of-bitches and tried to find new people to hang around with.

Fast forward several years to being at university. I'd had several short term (and rather fun) relationships along the way, then I got my second long-term boyfriend (I know he's a B3tan, hence no names. If you figure out who I am, I'm so, so sorry). Towards the end of this relationship, A had somehow tracked me down over the internet and I obtained his Bebo and e-mail address. An occasion for cursing and confusion subsequently arose.

Then I got his phone number. Wooo!

There were some rather, er, interesting texts getting sent back and forth and I ended up breaking up with my boyfriend. We both knew it was coming, but I brought it forward because I knew when I saw A I'd end up cheating on the current boyfriend.

He visited, it was fantastic, and I realised it was SIX YEARS since we'd last seen each other. Then he left again, but with a vow to stay in touch and visit each other far sooner than another six years.

We have stayed in touch, and it's pretty awesome. But I can't have a serious relationship with anyone just now because of A. Sometimes I get really angry with him, and sometimes I miss him like crazy.

It proves that there's no need to officially "go out" with someone to have something that has a profound effect on your life. I love him to bits, and probably always will. But, dammit, I wish he hadn't had such an effect. I just want to move on and can't do so properly yet.

Blimey, that was rather epic. And cathartic? I don't know. At least it makes some written sense.
(Meya, Fri 29 Aug 2008, 19:02, Reply)

Ther must be an opportunity
for some pun based japery based around my name with this.

Unfortunately I'm not witty enough to come up with anything.
(Dangerous Disco Trev Isn't my real name, Fri 29 Aug 2008, 18:59, Reply)

"Fancy coming back to mine for a coffee"?
The aftermath of my marriage breakup was a tumultuous whirl of bitter recrimination, new found confidence, desperate lows and the occassional manic high. Alcohol abuse became extremely rife as I could hardly bear to sit in my flat alone at night for fear of bouncing off the walls. It's fair to say that I found out that it's actually quite easy to strike up a conversation with random strangers in pubs. It beats talking to yourself.

One Friday night (Comic Relief Night 2003 to be exact - March 14th), as I was preparing to meet some older mates from my dive club, my mobile rang. It was Dave, a former colleague. "We're on the piss in Morpeth tonight", said he, "get your boots on and meet us in 10 minutes".

And so I did. I had been over to Amsterdam a few months earlier with Dave and his mates, and had a great time - it would be good to catch up with them again. And so it was. We drank, chatted and laughed. We also nearly got thrown out of one bar, an 'internet' cafe (established as such in order to get a licence - the internet is long gone in there) after Dave thought it would be fun calling up Veronica Mozer scat porn websites. *EDIT* Do not, under any circumstances, Google this delicate lady, as Spimf appears to have discovered to his cost...

And so we wound our way from pub to pub, until we hit upon HQ...

HQ was possibly the most hideous place in the town, a meat market of the lowest order and the highest prices. The lads were keen to go in as it had a late licence, I was less so, having experienced the horror before. But the call for more beer won out, and in I went.

The lads did their usual chatting to groups of women thing. I wasn't particularly bothered that night, and to be honest I'm something of a spak-knuckled incompetent when in that kind of situation anyway. But then Dave came over to me.

"You need to chat to this lass" he said, and thrust me in front of a small, dark spiky haired female wearing combat pants. And with very beguiling eyes.

"Erm, OK. Hello".

"Hello", she replied.

Silence (apart from the bloody music pumping through the place).

Her: "Do you want a cigarette"?

Me: "OK, thanks"

Her: "I love your jacket".

Me: "Thanks. My wife bought it for me". *Oh, well fucking done, that was classy you utter tit*

And so it went. The conversation got less stilted; she was out with some mates and hadn't wanted to go into HQ either but was dragged in. Eventually we realised that we were alone; Dave and mates having gone off for their minibus home, and her mates having done similar. No worries, we were getting along just fine now after my initial aloofness had worn off.

It was approaching closing time, and she needed to get a taxi home. Only trouble with that is that the queue is huge, and it's not very warm.

"Listen, I live literally just up the street. Why don't you come back for a coffee, and you can call a cab without having to wait in a chav ridden, kebab wrapper infested taxi queue"? I suggested.

So she agreed. I made coffee, she called a cab, and we discovered some mutual tastes in music. Before long the taxi arrived and I escorted her into it. We swapped numbers and arranged a date the following week.

Mid way through the following week when she started texting me Viz top tips I realised we shared more than musical tastes. We still try to get each other to scoot coffee / beer from each other's noses with well timed one liners. We've had our wobbles, but we're getting hitched next year and celebrating that by attending a b3ta bash in Edinburgh.

Length? Five and a half years so far.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Fri 29 Aug 2008, 18:57, 6 replies)

I chatted up Sarah Jessica Parker once.
I complimented her on her acting and her success with Sex And The City and offered to take her out.

She accepted!

Very much chuffed, I took her to dinner, then out to a nearby pub for a drink before we headed back to my place.

Don't believe me? Here's photographic proof!



( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 29 Aug 2008, 17:55, 14 replies)

There was a strange kind of inevitability about it all...
I had met a lovely lady, who we shall call C, in a pub about a year ago. Almost from our first meeting she suggested that I would get on well with her flatmate, L...

I did finally get to meet L socially over the next few months, albeit briefly on those occasions and for one reason or another we were either tired or stressed by other things at the time. However despite the tiredness and stress L struck me as beautiful, intelligent, and witty. 4 months after I had first met C, she held a birthday party to which I had an invite, and the opportunity to stay the night on her L's sofa bed had been extended.

And on the first opportunity to talk properly, we hit it off. All evening we were inseperable, sat in the sill of the bay window, chatting about anything and everything - we clicked. Come the end of the evening after all the other guests had left, we went upstairs and it was then that she dropped the bombshell...

"I couldn't be bothered to make up the sofa bed, would you like to share my bed with me?"

And that, dear reader, was 9 months ago. 2 months ago the lovely L moved in with me. And all because she couldn't be arsed to pull out a sofa bed. Although to be fair to her, she did tell me afterwards she had no intention of making up the sofa bed at all... ;-)
(--merciless-- is delightfully fragrant, Fri 29 Aug 2008, 17:28, Reply)

Fate (or vodka) doing its thing
Just after university an old school friend invited me to his house warming party. The party was a good one and I got chatting to this girl and we were getting on quite well but she was not really my type. At around midnight I was very drunk and drifted off and sat down on a sofa next to some other girl.

We got chatting and she told me that she had already tried to order 3 taxis to go home and none had turned up. We then spent the next few hours getting on really well and even shared the sofa bed that night (nothing happened).

The next morning I walked her to the station and asked for her number. I couldn't for the life of me remember her name so just had to put her name under A in my mobile (I got her name from a mate later on).

10 years on we are happily married with 2 kids. Turns out she was completely hammered by the time we got chatting, had spilt a pint of vodka and lemonade down her self and had been giving the taxi guys the completely wrong address. I like to think that fate played a part in us meeting but it was more likely the vodka. Classy!
(Tom Jones's Mojo Hasn't had any since, Fri 29 Aug 2008, 17:21, Reply)

'Friends'
The lonely depths of my final year at uni. My friends, who were all on three-year courses, had left to become part of the real world while I was faced with the mountainous task of overcoming the fact of having spent the previous three years arseing about and generally avoiding doing any actual study. If I was to get a decent degree I would need to knuckle down and get on with it.

By way of relief, I fell in the Rag crowd. A bit worthy some of them, and often rather too desperately 'wacky', but fun enough in their own way. One of these was a girl by the name of...well let's say 'Sara'. I got on OK with her, didn't have any particular romantic intentions but to put it bluntly I'd have porked her if the opportunity arose.

As time went on, we started to become closer as friends. She was a little bit needy if truth be told, and I was a good listener when she needed someone to talk to. Which she increasingly did, as she began to develop a habit of getting together with the sort of fuck'em-dump'em bastards that some women just seem to gravitate towards. On more than one occasion I, and others, would warn her about her latest crush, only to be left to pick up the pieces when yet again she was left in a sobbing heap by some one-night-stand.

The crunch came when she pitched up on my doorstep unannounced at 10pm, in tears yet again because the gormless cock she'd been seeing had dumped her for someone prettier. As it happens, my finals were rapidly approaching and I'd set the evening aside for study -- I'd been at it since five (having spent the rest of the day preparing to move to new digs) and had intended to work another few hours. Instead I got to listen to her pour her heart out (again), hold her and dry her tears (again), try to persuade her to avoid dating obvious bastards (again) and then watch her fall asleep on my bed at 4am.

Ever the gentleman, I covered her up, walked over to my new digs and spent the night there -- unheated and without bedding because I hadn't moved my stuff yet. When I went back in the morning she was gone. She never thanked me.

Pretty soon after that I resolved to steer clear of her. For a start, it was clear that she wasn't going to change anytime soon. I really needed to concentrate on my studies without having to take time out to sort her love-life out for her all the time. And frankly, how come when she was such a fuckbucket, I never even got a sniff?

Bitch.
( reallywittyname veraciously conspues lexiphanicism on, Fri 29 Aug 2008, 16:58, 4 replies)

Just rub it in their face.
A friend of mine a few months back decided to go out on the pull in a trendy London nightclub. Despite being your generic asian chick, she's not the greatest looker in the world and has her fair share of mental issues and insecurities.

Needless to say, she finally suckered up some courage and went looking for a man. After a string of guys on the dancefloor rejected her, she spots a decent-looking chap and so makes her move.

Bodies are rubbing together, booze is flowing, music is pumping, you get the general idea here. All's getting flirty for a fair amount of time until the bloke does the honest thing and whispers in her ear:

"I've got a fiancee you know"

"Don't worry, I won't tell her"

So they retreat back to her flat for a night of rampant bodily fluid exchange. Come the morning after, and the hangover-ridden gentleman understandably feels like crap. Rather than keeping things on the hush, my mate decides to wake up, look him square in the face and mutter the immortal line:

"You're a bastard, you know that?"

He's single. She's single. The fiancee is single. C'est la vie.
(FoxyBadger (try saying it backwards), Fri 29 Aug 2008, 16:56, Reply)