it started with a kiss
He was dressed as Harry Potter, if Harry Potter was 22 and cute. I had come as a goldfish. Harry Potter was the best friend of my then-squeeze, the Garden Gnome. As fancy dress events go we had pulled out some but not all of the stops.

Harry Potter and I were getting drunk near the bar. It was late. It was late and it was rather odd. His dad wandered past in a grass skirt and coconut shell bikini. I kept drinking because it seemed like the right thing to do.

"How about a kiss then?" asked Harry. I obliged with a peck on the cheek, leaving a trail of gold glitter across his face.

"No, a kiss like this," sez he, and grabbed Garden Gnome in an entertaining bloke-on-bloke tongue-heavy snog that probably shouldn't have aroused me quite as much as it did.

"I'll have some of that, " I thought, and slid myself between the pair of them, magic wand on one side, fishing rod on the other. In typical drunken fashion, no one seemed to notice, and in fact their parents waved goodbye when we said we were off home for more beer.

My goldfish tail was fastened with velcro, a tip I recommend for any impromptu sexual encounters. Harry Potter was out of that uniform pretty sharpish and Garden Gnome lost the cotton wool beard along with the last of his inhibitions.

It is slightly surreal to wake up between an overgrown boy wizard and a living lawn ornament, but it's even more surreal when the lawn ornament's mother taps politely on the bedroom door to offer toast. Not as surreal though, as hearing one hungover friend explain to another that it was purely by accident that he'd licked his best mate's balls.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Sun 31 Aug 2008, 20:09, 9 replies)

get your coat love
you haven't pulled
im just cold...
( Mr Nerdy-Speccy-FuckNuts Ouchy ouchy wa wa!, Sun 31 Aug 2008, 19:07, Reply)

Complicated
Where to begin without inducing narcolepsy... ahh yes; my arse is like a pin-cushon!! Do you want to know how it happened? Read on...

Baaaaaisically i've always been the sort of guy where there can't be one girl on the scene; there is always three, or in this particular case five. I'd been working my magic with several girls hoping that one would end up diddling my mangina and agreed to go to drinks with a work colleague. After a night of drinking heavily and partying i invited my colleague to stay at mine to avoid having to look at her hiddeous ex who she couldn't quite prise from their rented accomodation at that time. Wat started as an agreement to have casual sex very rapidly turned heavy, i mean after a night of very passionate kinky rumpy pumpey (Leaving me with the arse sore as a sailor's after she dug her nails into it) she told me today that "I see you, you see me" by the magic numbers reminds her of me, and now i come to mention it me of her.
So from these convos we've established we have feelings for one another, unfortunately because of the nature of my job we can't tell work, but focaccia it, i'll sort something out.
So who knows where this'll lead... im hoping somewhere constructive because the alternative is self-lothing, a nihillistic disregard for my own safety and sexual health... But oh well..
(SteroidPigOhurugu, Sun 31 Aug 2008, 19:04, Reply)

b3ta is responsible for my current relationship,
in which I seduced my boyfriend by getting him to deliver chocolates to another woman...

My little sister was sent on a course by her workplace, which was being held a good couple of hundred miles away from the town where we lived. The company were putting her up in a hotel for the few nights necessary, but she was a bit nervous - it was the first time she'd been away from home entirely by herself, without meeting up with a friend at her destination, none of the other course delegates were staying at the hotel, and it was making her feel a bit uncomfortable.

In a remarkably uncharacteristic burst of goodwill towards my Sister Dearest, I asked if there were any b3tans in the vicinity of the town where she was staying who I could commission to go and cheer her up.

Evilstevie responded. We'd never met, but we'd both been to several bashes so we had friends in common who could vouch for both of us as "probably not an axe-murderer". We started plotting. Our plan came off perfectly and was as follows:

1. Evilstevie got some chocolate and then went by motorbike to the hotel. When he was nearly there, he phoned me.

2. I then phoned my sister from my landline phone. We chatted for a few minutes until...

3. Evilstevie phoned my mobile to confirm he was in the hotel lobby.

4. Hung up my mobile, back to the landline, asked Little Sister if she had her shoes on and told her to go downstairs to the lobby.

5. Little Sister steps out of the lift and into the hotel lobby to see a tall man in full biker gear offering her chocolate courtesy of Big Sis.

6. Much squeaking then occurred.

A couple of months later, I got a chance to repay the favour - he needed a place to stay for a bash near where I lived. Neither of us had anything other than friendship in mind, but we found that in the real world we got on like a house on fire and a relationship developed.

After a few weeks listening to rants from my sister about how "he'd be happier with me, because I can go out and do more than you can," and the suchlike I finally came to understand that she was under the impression that I had been trying to set her up with Evilstevie, and believed that he was so smitten with her that he was visiting me in order to see her again. She was rather pissed off that I had "stolen" him from her. It's been nearly three years now, and Evilstevie still can't make up his mind whether that's funny or horrifying.
( Batsgirl, Sun 31 Aug 2008, 18:52, 3 replies)

love in the fast lane
our getting together wasn't particularly memorable, but i'll remember the break-up forever:

him: smash, we've been together for some time now(3 weeks) and i have a question to ask you.
me: what question?
him: will you move in with me?
me: (looking around his bedsit which is too small for even an experienced cat-swinger) errm.....no.


all goes well with us living separately, until...


him: smash, we've been together for a long time now(7 weeks), i have a really important question to ask you.
me: what question?
him: will you marry me?
me: ummm....do you know where i left my running shoes?

after a very hasty exit, i didn't lay eyes on him for almost 2 years. when i did see him, he was with a scrawny, tartan-clad harridan, pushing a tartan pram in which lay a tartan-clad baby girl.
he wasn't wearing tartan, but he was wearing a wedding ring and a look of complete and utter defeat.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Sun 31 Aug 2008, 18:26, Reply)

"ER...WILL YOU GO OUT WITH ME!"
*runs and hides behind school desk*

denied aswell

i reckon there should be 2 questions of the week :/ my askings out generally end in failure
(El, Sun 31 Aug 2008, 17:34, Reply)

Do you come here often?
Or do you wait until you get home?
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sun 31 Aug 2008, 17:31, 2 replies)

Oops.
7 years ago,a new guy came to work with me.I thought he was a bit sexy,but already having a boyfriend/house/dog etc...,I decided against shagging him.

Cut to 2 years later,when my boyfriend was on tour,a drunken albeit well timed snog began what has been 5 years of wedded bliss.

The ex threatened to kill us both and we were ostracised by almost everyone,but when it´s love,it´s love,innit.....

Not very funny,but he´s a great shag.

Yeehah.
(shirleytemplesarse, Sun 31 Aug 2008, 15:52, Reply)

Halloween, two years ago.
Her: "Hey! Papa Lazarus!"
Me: *scowl* "Lazarou!"

Did't work, I think I freaked her out.

Other gems, as I may have mentioned before, include "I've not felt like this since I was in jail", "Don't eat the fish" and "Did I mention I've got a cockatiel?"

I don't have much luck, oddly.
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Sun 31 Aug 2008, 15:48, 1 reply)

Masterclass in cooling ardour
My pal: "I love you Susan"
She (without looking up): "Have you tried Milk of Magnesia"
Ouch.
(beaverwastemanagement a real company. I want to work for them!, Sun 31 Aug 2008, 15:02, 1 reply)

Orange Hat
After several boozy years in Birmingham, I moved back in with my parents in their country village to do my MSc (in order to bury the Desmond under a higher and more successful certificate). Reasons for choosing this location were twofold: it was cheaper to live in the country village and commute to London than to live in London, and two, my mum supplied limitless wine and brandy to "help things along". Great!

Only problem is that this country village had exactly three eligible young ladies. "Eligible" in that they weren't actually married, and "young" as in less than 40, but ladies they weren't. So I tried my hand at internet dating, with no success whatsoever.

Now coming back from my final Final, and with a glorious 5 months left to write and submit the dissertation I arrived home to find all my worldly possessions in the front garden, a removals truck outside the house and my parents gleefully saying, "sold the house, moving to Germany". To be fair, I did know this was on the cards. So a call to my mate A, in London to ask, nay beg, him for the use of his spare room in salubrious Balham.

So moved in, plus internet, I figured rather than delete the dating account I'd just change the search area. *ping* from matching up with 3 sheep and a granny who lied about her age, suddenly there were screens of beauties. None of whom I believed were genuine, so I got on with the important business of making emulsion polymers and thought no more about it.

A few days later, an email lands up. "Message received" it says. It's from a human female. We chatted on messenger. She really was human, really was female, and really was as advertised. You could've knocked me down with a feather (and other cliches).

So we arrange to meet at a pub near a tube station. How will she recognise me? Well, I have this orange Jaegermeister hat I picked up at Sound of Frankfurt the year before - can't miss that.

So I'm standing outside said tube station for ages, nervous with anticipation, my fluorescent orange hat drawing rather odd glances. Possibly if I had a banjo and could play it, I'd have earned a pint. After an hour or so, I realised this one was a no-show.

Hat comes off, springy rim twists and folds up into pocket, and I figure I deserve a pint or six for my troubles.

The pub - I forget the name - was rammed with Sarf Laandaners speaking their strange, foreign dialect and was almost standing room only. Availing myself of a pint I sit in the only available space - at the end of a bench where a rather attractive young lady is being leered over by a somewhat crusty old chap in a faded summery baseball cap.

Time passes, I tune out, the row beside me gets noisier until I politely ask the gent to "shut the fuck up". In the next heartbeat I turn pale: I'm far from my sheltered home, in a pub surrounded by strangers, with a beer head, and I've just told a lumphead to shut it. In the heartbeat after, I realise I'm a foot taller and 20kg heavier than this guy and move around ready for the inevitable. In the heartbeat after, an orange Jaegermeister hat, springy rim straining, bursts free from the pocket with a pleasing *thwock* and comes to settle on my pint.

Suddenly the girl clamps herself to my lips. Turns out this girl was the one I was waiting for. She'd mistaken faded not-orange for bright dayglo orange, dragged this guy over to the pub, then discovered she'd caught a monster.

Shame she was a nutter. Still, passed the time.
(daizi last tried to escape on, Sun 31 Aug 2008, 14:34, 2 replies)

Marriage Vows
.
Probably the ultimate Will You Go Out With Me.

I can remember mine well. And I can picture the thought processes of my ex-wife



For better, for worse

Better. Definitely better


For richer, for poorer

Doh! Richer please. That's a no-brainer...

In sickness and in health

Err. Can I ask the audience? OK. Health - 'cos him being sick would be yuccy. How could he buy me things if he's sick? Yes. I definitely want health.

To love and to cherish

Hard one this but I'll have cherish.

'Till death do us part

Or I get a better lawyer! - giggle! ROFL! British law means I get EVERYTHING!!

I did try to explain afterwards that the marriage vows weren't multiple choice. She just looked at me.

"That's what you think."


Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Sun 31 Aug 2008, 14:24, Reply)

Just Checking..
.
I had a blackout the other week.

Nice lass.

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Sun 31 Aug 2008, 12:48, 3 replies)

Menage a trois
A few years ago I was living in South America in a student hostel. I was the only non-American there and seemed to be getting some interest from young American ladies due to my accent.

Brilliantly I failed to really notice or act on this as I was pretty much permanantly drunk.

One day I felt awful... I had been out the night before with some friends, got horribly drunk on imported guinness and bad Paraguayan whisky (is there good Paraguayan whisky?), drunkenly attempted to talk to a few Argentine girls and been told to fuck off. In summation, I felt like a group of elephants with jackhammers were trying to burrow through my skull.

The Americans wanted to go out that night. I declined, pointing out that I still couldn't see properly and that I felt like I would perform the Full Body Orifice Chorus if any strenuous movement (such as dancing) was involved.

They exited, post haste, and I reclined in my bed sipping tea and trying to read. I fell asleep.

4am the Americans crash back in. One of the girls, not the best looking, or the nicest, crashes into my room with a gay guy and they both climb into my bed.

This was an odd situation. On on side I have a gay Korean American lamenting how he can't get a guy, and on the other side I have a young lady licking my ear and grabbing *whatever* she can.

So, a dilemma. How to get rid of the drunk gay guy. I tried for ages. I told him to go to bed. I told him to fuck off. I told him that the girl was trying to have sex with me and if he didn't want to witness it then he should leave. Finally, after an hour or so, he left. The girl then passed out.

We ended up going out for just under three months. She was odd... her conception of dirty talk during sexy time was to talk about the need for reform of American Labour Laws. There's nothing better than a post coital monologue on what Union somebody wants to work for.
(Zapiola zip-zap-zop, Sun 31 Aug 2008, 2:55, Reply)

When I were a fresher...
...got talking to this girl one night in the student union, who lived in different halls to me. I told her I was jealous as her flat had a bath, and not just a scummy shower shared between 7 people. She said I was welcome to use it one night if I wanted a little luxury. Of course I took her up on the offer (I do like a nice proper bath). I think she was a bit surprised when I turned up on her doorstep with a towel and a bottle of shampoo, but she let me in and I was soon happily splashing away. About ten minutes later, she opens the door and climbs in the tub with me. Result.
(jabboy, Sun 31 Aug 2008, 2:53, Reply)

I was really suprised when this worked
*Harlief sniffs the air*
"Did you just fart? Cos you blew me away."

It was short lived, turns out she was crazy.
(Harleif Skankhammer II was killing time at, Sun 31 Aug 2008, 2:38, Reply)

Some of them you know it's doomed from the start.....
Several years ago now I was working in a club in town. I was quite a horny bugger then and would try and shag anything with tits that would let me. One night after work a few of us were sitting around having a drink. One of the girls was trying to decide if she should go to a party or go home. She then asked "What should I do?". Of course I couldn't resist and I said "Me!". I should have known by the fact that she said yes that this was a bad sign. We had both agreed that it would just be a one night stand and I was happy with that. But somehow it ended up as more. Started off not too bad, if I couldn't get a shag anywhere else I could always go to her. Then things just got creepy and I didn't even want to have sex with her. She was even going to let me do her up the ass just so I would stay with her. How did I get rid of her? I moved to America and told her I couldn't do long distance.
( bobzarkoff, Sun 31 Aug 2008, 0:40, 1 reply)

I am utterly crap at asking women out.
Have been ever since I was a mere Prince of Swandanavia.

My last girlfriend sort of just happened (both times we were together, I'm not sure anything was said, but the lengths of time were 7 and 10 months with a gap of 3 years or so.)

My current squeeze(©: any tabloid newspaper ever) is a delightful young girl named Emma. Just turned 19, and for whatever reason, thinks the world of me. I met her when I was drunk a, and she was sober, so she has seen Drunk Garry&trade and didnt mind. I spent all day today with her at a museum, vaguely wandering around and just talking with her.

Anyone who knows me knows I'm horrifically shy with the better half of the species, and I struggle to talk to girls for any prolonged length of time. Neither one of us was at a loss for something to talk about, and it was amazing.

None of the classic questions have been asked regarding a relationship, but its blossoming nicely, and I've never been happier. She's fairly posh (especially in comparison to my own scumbag upbringing) and I love the fact that she is more than willing to slum it at my level because (in her rough words, complete with added paraphrasing!) I make her smile and smiling makes her happy.

What more could I ask for?

King Garry I of Swandanavia may have found a Queen, and her name is Emma.
(King of Swandanavia Proud owner of the worlds first Flong, Sun 31 Aug 2008, 0:34, Reply)

she said my tshirt was cool
what's a boy to do?
( mictoboy shitting in your cunt since, Sun 31 Aug 2008, 0:00, 2 replies)

what not to do
"oh i like this song'
'who is it?'
'band x.'
'oh YEAH. i love band x.'
'hey. me too! what songs do you like?'
'erm.'
'whats the name of this song?'
'-'
(ladyintheradiator, Sat 30 Aug 2008, 22:31, 1 reply)

cheers!
i heard tell that a charming young man had his eye on me. id had my eye on him. that evening, we all went out. nothing was happening. alarmed, i kept drinking.

taking matters into his own hands, the charming young man approached me... he cleared his throat, unfolded his arms, took a step forward...

i fell forward onto him.
(ladyintheradiator, Sat 30 Aug 2008, 22:19, 1 reply)

The multiverse of Spimf
Mrs Spimf and I will have been together for 20 years at precisely 11.51 on Dec 24 2008. I am a huge fan of 'Back to the Future' so this anal level of precision works for me, that and the fact I am a hopeless romantic and do very much believe in the power of love.

It will also be our third wedding anniversary and exactly 4 years since I proposed. The proposal story is far more b3ta friendly, I shall make a point of ahem… proposing that as a future QOTW – “my proposal to the future Mrs. Spimf involved concealed kittens and industrial fireworks - how did you, or would propose to your beloved?”

Anyway…

!@£$%^&*()))_¡€#¢∞§¶•ªº:”|…æ≤≥÷¡€#¢∞§¶•ªº–≠⁄™‹›fifl‡°·’—»ÆÚ¿˘¯

Sorry I find wavy lines a bit dull, anyway... Christmas Eve, 1988 there’s the fresh faced 19-year-old Spimf not really in the mood to go out. I was at my gran's with my mum and sister. It was a cold wet miserable night in Glasgow. My wee Welsh gran always had the gas fire on a little bit too high. The combination of the moist thick heat and soft hissing noise from a gas fire has always made me feel safe, secure and a bit sleepy, so I was up for a quiet night in. After all Santa was coming that night and there would be presents there in the morning (I have always loved Christmas). But still I was an adult now and my best mate Mark was not ready to let me forget this. After calling to assure me our usual haunt would be “hoachin with fanny” (we were No.s 3 & 4 on our little laminated VIP passes – oh yes we were very much the young blades). I was also assured that if I didn’t go out that night I was a ”definite bender” so reluctantly I agreed to get ready. Some high waisted, stonewash jeans, ridiculous gelled 80’s hair and a liberal dousing of Kouros and there I was – chick kryptonite. Did I mention the rather expensive handmade cowboy boots? Aside from now being deeply embarrassing they are also highly significant.

Finally the taxi announced it’s arrival with a few impatient pumps on the horn. I kissed my mum, sister and wee welsh Gran goodnight, promised to be back in time for Christmas dinner, and set off into the drizzle (worrying about my extravagantly gelled hair). Walking down the pathway to the taxi I still felt distinctly unenthused about going out that night. Then suddenly, the heel of my stupid handmade cowboy boot struck a wet leaf on the pavement. Everything immediately expanded to Matrix bullet time. As I was doing my slo-mo flailing goosestep I remember very clearly thinking “right if I go arse over tit and get all wet and manky – fuck it, I’m staying in” Amazingly I regained my footing and my composure. Space-time relativity was restored and quite possibly somewhere in the future my son faded back into view in the picture next to my bed.

So there we are in the club, Joe Paparazzo’s in Glasgow, not our usual haunt; Tin Pan Alley in Mitchell Lane – no! A deviation was made from the norm that fateful night, (big queue outside Tin Pan Alley, fuck that).

So new horizons, fresh prey: there I was scanning ‘Joe Paps’ (a converted porn cinema apparently) suddenly I chanced upon the most lustrous mane of long tumbling dark hair.

And there she was, slender, petite wearing a lacy black dress (80’s remember) and high spiky heels highlighting a finely turned ankle, and cracking legs. Suddenly she spun round, tossing her beautiful hair over her shoulder (things might have gone a bit slo-mo again here). She looked directly at me, as if somehow she knew I was there. I later found out her dumpy fat mate was on point and was saying, “Right, quick he's looking now”. (Men are innocent lambs before the connivances of women.)

Her eyes were dark, dangerous and utterly beguiling. After an all too brief glance she looked away disinterestedly but arched her back and extended one leg backwards slightly (apparently this made her bum look even more perfect - like I say innocent lambs). I was crestfallen. Cleary she was WAY out of my league. She looked a little older than me, clearly more sophisticated. But that did not stop me staring. Pathetically though, I was utterly unable to approach. But I could at least gawp. This went on for a while, a long while, then a friend of a friend who was with our group moved in for the kill. Ramie: an unsavory character. Ramie was dodgy: a car thief, conman and womaniser, but handsome and smooth with it. Bastard. I watched things slip away from me, the picture of my son fading by my future bedside.

Action was required. Immediate action. I strode directly over, all the while looking into those big brown eyes. I spun on my (Cuban) heel and turned to Ramie. “It’s your round” Ramie looked me up and down sneered, then turned to Mrs Spimf and said mockingly “he reckons its my round, what do you think?”

Mrs Spimf looked at him innocently, held out her glass and said sweetly “Fresh orange and lemonade please” (she was driving that night).

We talked. She was perfect. I looked at my watch to see when it would be Christmas – 9 minutes to go. At midnight we shared an awkward peck on the cheek. Shortly afterwards Mrs. Spimf looked deeply into my eyes and said...

“So did you have a nice Christmas”?

I kid her now that she was pouting and swooning at this point but to be honest she was more likely thinking “Christ! is this Muppet ever going to make a move?”

We kissed. All the future pictures were drawn.

Mrs Spimf doesn’t do B3ta so I can share this with you all. I’m already planning Christmas this year back home in Scotland. There will be a very large eternity ring involved.

She is still perfect.

!
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Sat 30 Aug 2008, 21:51, 13 replies)

hand actions
my most recent ex (we split cause he turned out to be possessive and scary)
but anyway, if i remember rightly the asking out process went a bit like this:

him: look i really really like you
me: thanks i like you too
him: so do you wanna...um (waves his hand around)**
me: oh ok then

i'm starting to wonder whether i misinterpreted the waving hand action.
it could have meant "be my property and let me constantly know where
you are and accuse you of cheating on me with any male friends you might have" instead of "girlfriend"


** 18 year olds are so articulate
(i eat crayons, Sat 30 Aug 2008, 21:49, Reply)

it was kind of protracted and happened twice but its all true
I went on a holiday to holland when i was a younger flynntoff with my family and met this girl. When we got home, i chatted with her and some of her friends on MSN back when it was cool, and particularly got on with one of her friends... Even though she lived miles away we would meet up at weekends and kiss in a disgusting teenage fashion. However, this arrangement was doomed to failure (by me, oops) so eventually we broke up.

Fast forward six years of no contact whatsoever and i am at a party at a mutual friends house, too drunk to stand up and she turns up... win! I end up walking her home somehow and kissing her goodbye, but in the cold sober light of day, she decides that this is the booze's fault and it goes no further, but at least we're back talking if not actually meeting up.

Fast forward another year and we're at another party at another mutual friends house, shitfaced and snogging like teenagers. Again.

Fast forward another month, and we meet up for lunch in london.

Me: "So does this make you my girlfriend then?"

Her: "I suppose so"

Me: "Guess I'd better tell my girlfriend back home then..."


I didn't have a girlfriend back home, that was 5 months ago.
(flynntoff, Sat 30 Aug 2008, 20:39, Reply)

Who said romance is dead?
My mate used this line. Successfully.

Mate (to girl): You and me are having sex tonight.

Girl: Why so sure?

Mate: Because I can run faster than you.

Lovely.
(animal252 last activated his kitten hammer on, Sat 30 Aug 2008, 19:42, 2 replies)

She turned me down
In November 1999, during my second year at the University of York, I went to a big student group conference at the University of Warwick.

On arrival, my friends and I went off to the sports hall to leave our bags and mark out a place to sleep. On returning in the evening, I found that my carefully laid out sleeping bag and my rucksack, had been chucked aside by some inconsiderate fellow. I ended up sleeping next to a girl in the same year as me but whom I didn’t really know called Anna.

We talked for a while and eventually she fell asleep. I was soon quite enamoured with her. I worked up the courage to ask her out on the coach back to York but I overheard her talking about her boyfriend, which was a bit of a sod.

After a couple of months I heard that they had split, so I asked her out in January 2000. I used the cunning medium of asking her to analyse my handwriting (she did a bit of graphology back in the day).

She was still getting over breaking up with her ex, (who by all accounts was a right shit), so after a day to consider it, she turned me down.

I was just a trifle upset by this. Well, alright, I didn't eat or sleep for two days and started writing out Radiohead lyrics (Let Down, as I recall).

I had a word with my Dad, who advised me to pursue her, just not too vigorously. I took it.

One thing that he didn't advise me to do is to get the offending fellow supersoaked and flanned during RAG week. Nevertheless, I did this anyway.

Two weeks later I met up with her at a battle of the bands heat, as friends. We agreed to go to the alternative night at one of York's clubs the next Tuesday. On the night, I thought that she had stood me up, until she turned up at midnight, for some reason.

The next day, we met in my college. She asked me out. She was rather surprised when I said yes, as she thought I'd tell her to take a running jump.

After a couple of months, I told her what I had done to her ex. Her reaction? One of hilarity? Shock? No, horror. I'd got the wrong bloke.

Several years later, I asked her to marry me on the same spot. We got hitched earlier this year.


( Parmesan Quality b4 Quantity, Sat 30 Aug 2008, 19:07, 1 reply)

Hmmm, the master plan...
Once at the age of 15 we got a new computer. It had The Internet. I was very happy and soon was introduced to MSN.

"Don't ever talk to strangers on that," says old dad. An unwise thing to tell your teenage daughter. Feeling lonely, I decided to look for a boyfriend who would love me for the rest of my life and vice versa. That was back in 2003 where you could browse and message all kinds of people. A tall order, you might say, especially for an afternoon's work.

The joke's on you though, as the third one I found was the one for me! Hoorah.

And neither of us even asked the other out. Two years of talking, as he lived in England, then he came up to visit, phoned his mum to tell her he was safe and decalred me his girlfriend on the phone to her.

I declare this master plan a success!
( vix0r was not Matthew on, Sat 30 Aug 2008, 18:53, Reply)

I said ...
"Is it 250 for two hours?"

she said "yes, take a shower first"

does that count?
(flipper is going to die in a bizarre gardenning accident, Sat 30 Aug 2008, 18:51, Reply)

I was in a band
she came to a gig,

she came to a few more gigs,

she gazed at me, I gazed back,

10 months later we were married.

10 months after that we had our daughter.

I've never been happier.
( Peej, Sat 30 Aug 2008, 18:34, Reply)

The oldest line in the book...... But it WORKED! :O
When I met my current GF we went out for a christmas shopping expedition.

To cut a long (and very boring) story short, my cat had just had kittens so I invited her back to see them. She never went back home after that.

Who says the corny lines don't work?

Length: 7 1/2 years so far.
(Phoenixx1973 Will be campaigning for the "Vote Saxon" party., Sat 30 Aug 2008, 18:17, 1 reply)