Things snowball – pun intended
So I post on a couple of forums about winter sports in Bulgaria. The chat is usually about the three main resorts out there, Bansko, Borovets and Pamporovo and is fairly mundane … “what ski boots should I buy”; “do I need a photo for my lift pass”; “are there cash machines” and over the past few seasons, “is there any bloody snow?”. But a few years back, attention turned to the socio-economic condition of the country itself and sort of focused on the fate of an orphanage near Pamporovo that desperately needed a new heating system or it would close. There wasn't a fist thumped on a desk, and someone saying, “Right! Lets fix this!” but the subject kept popping up and got talked about more and more, with someone eventually saying, we should, you know, raise some money or something.

The people looking after the orphanage mentioned a figure just less that £2000 to get the place winter proof, so we made that our goal. Various suggestions were made, but none gathered as much support as someone challenging one of the main (male) moderators of the biggest forum to “ski down a run wearing nothing but a thong.” He eventually agreed and March 14th was picked as the date, Borovets as the resort, and the week was dubbed the “Ski-A-Thong.” A fair amount of the people who post online altered and amended plans and booked that week to go out, including me and a few mates.

And then it went a bit mental. There are a few media types on the forums, so Pete (for that is his name) ended up on radio and TV stations across the UK. Someone from Sky Sports offered prizes. Schools started raising money. Tee-shirts were made. Sponsor money was pledged. From a single challenge, a hundred ideas came forth, so by the time we got on a plane for Bulgaria it was all that anyone was talking about.

Now the point of the QOTW … a pub in the resort was flagged up as a meeting point for the first night and as we walked in we were greeted by a chorus of people we'd never met shouting our names … ID'ing us from a tiny avatar and greeting us like family. It was amazing. Drink was drunk, voices were raised and we were all that bit happier knowing some of the money we were paying to get wasted with, was going to a good cause.

Events happened all week. A quiz, a curry-oke, an auction … and money came from some other, surprising, sources. Us degenerates had arranged a poker night separate from all of the do-gooding. A night of sit-and-goes with fairly quick blinds … basically to ensure that there was a lot of action and no-one was sitting out for too long. People came and went, so there wasn't an exact prize for each game, but on average the winner got the equivalent of £50 in Bulgarian Lev and here's the thing … everyone who won, without exception, took their buy-in back, bought a round of drinks, and put what was left in the ski-a-thong kitty. No-one was prompting this or expecting it … it just happened every single time. Everyone had a great night so a repeat event was held later in the week, and the same thing happened.

Anyway, the day of the actual ski-a-thong arrived. By now, Pete wasn't doing it alone as various people had been sponsored to do the run in a number of outfits … and many others were doing it just for the hell of it. Personally, I’d chucked a kilt into my backpack as an after-thought, but I honestly didn’t fancy a trip down the mountain in it, especially as a ‘true’ Scotsman. At lunch before the event I was still internally debating about doing it, when at the next table I overheard a very young lad, of maybe 11 or 12, pleading with his parents to do the run in his pants. That’s all the inspiration I needed, if he can do it, so can I! I de-salopetted myself, got the kilt on, and subtly got out of everything underneath. I made my way to the bottom of the run and assembled with the other people in varying degrees of fancy dress and unwittingly my naked ass got filmed to turn up later that night on Bulgarian TV, (and that’s a sentence I never thought I’d type). After much nervous ado, we all get up lifts and down a thankfully very short run, fulfilling the requirements of the challenge … then we all get drunk.

Proof, if proof be need be youtu.be/BKvWSY_B2I8 ...look out for the Poma giving Pete a good thwack in the balls. My arse is just after the bunny-girl.

There's a final night in the pub, with speeches, thanks and many many drinks. Some of the children at the orphanage have made us cards. I'm presented with one and it makes me cry … don't know why, but probably it was the orphanage (in my mind) moving from concept to reality. There really were children with no parents out there, relying on donations of clothes and blankets as their accommodation, their home, wasn't heated over winter.

So, the main man takes the mic, the man who agreed to ski in a thong in the first place. He's got the total from all of the events, the promised sponsorship, the tin in the pub where we played poker. Remember we had sort of aimed for £2000? That night, a cheque was presented to the orphanage fund for … Eleven Thousand Euros. Let me say that again. Eleven Thousand Euros.

So, meeting people off the internet can be a wonderful, wonderful thing. We skiied, snowboarded, drank and drank some more, and somehow managed to make life for some Bulgarian orphans a little better for a while. I just dug my card out from the books it lives between and smiled … yup, a wonderful, wonderful thing.
( Cheeses of Nazareth Where's Captain Kirk? www.whereiskirk.com, Sun 23 Oct 2011, 1:50, 8 replies)

Found love again
Sorry, this is a fluffy one

As a few ‘old timers’ here may remember, I was tragically widowed in 2007 when my wife suffered a very rapid and chronic descent into severe mental illness. She took her own life by jumping in front of a tube train.

It was horrendous & I died that day with her. I was inconsolable &.desolate

Then after a year I started getting bored with my right hand (besides I kept thinking of doing it with her) so I decided that I should find someone to shag. Not for love coz I realised that after Sue I would never love again (I was 44), I just wanted a shag, basically. Well, come on. Like you wouldn’t?

So I signed up with a ‘dating’ site looking for larfs, like.

Within two months I met my lovely Marie. We met (in real life) on a first date & didn’t even kiss. Then we arranged dinner a couple of weeks later - managed a kiss then. YAY!.

Three & half years later she has moved in & we’re like a couple of teenagers. Can’t keep our hands off each other. We’re so happy together. Everyone says we were made for each other. My friends adore her, her friends adore me & we adore each other. We're engaged & plan to marry in 2013 in Mauritius (her homeland). Sickening, isn’t it? & we’re both nearly 50. Not many people get a second chance in life.

Funny when I’ve met people who say how sorry they are for me after what I’ve been through. I say: “But I’ve had the love of not one, but two wonderful women in my life. How lucky am I? Plenty of people don’t even get one."

It’s lovely. It’s fluffy. & I fucking deserve it, thank you very much.

(apols: width, depth, etc…)
( Dunks, Mon 24 Oct 2011, 20:02, 15 replies)

A happy ending
In January 1998 I was a final year student at Cardiff University. One Sunday evening I was with a friend in a computer room, listening to the charts on Radio 1, when Catatonia's Mulder & Scully was announced as the number three record.

With not much else to do (work wasn't an option) I logged on to the NME chat room, which was abuzz with people discussing how an second division indie band from Wales managed to stage a chart coup. One of the other chat room users mentioned that she was also at Cardiff Uni, and we discovered that we lived in the same street.

This was way before the dawn of online dating, you understand, and it was more of a chat about music than anything flirtatious. At the end of the evening I gave her my email address but thought little more of it.

The next day there was a message from her in my inbox. We exchanged emails for a few days, established a mutual love for the same bands, and eventually decided to meet for a drink at the student bar.

We got on, really well, so arranged to meet again. Within a couple of weeks we were a couple, fell in love and spent much of the next year inseparable. It was intense and passionate and unlike anything I'd experienced before.

We split up later that year after I graduated - it was the wrong time in life for us to be settling down. She broke my heart but I never forgot her. Every subsequent relationship was OK, but secretly I was comparing it to the girl from 1998. It felt like unfinished business, and I never knew whether it was a whirlwind romance or something that was cut off before its time.

In 2004, six years after we first met, I finally gave in and re-established contact. We went for a drink, found that same intangible chemistry that had been lying dormant all those years, and you can guess the rest. We married in 2006 and our little boy was born in May this year. I honestly couldn't be happier.

Looking back, it could all have been so different: if we hadn't been on the same website in that particular hour (I'd never used the chatroom before or since, and it's long gone now); if we hadn't lived near to one another; if she hadn't emailed; if we hadn't liked each other IRL; if I hadn't reestablished contact years later; and if we'd gone in hugely different directions in the intervening years.

Yay for meeting random people on the internet!

I can't stand Catatonia, mind.
(xyandz, Fri 21 Oct 2011, 17:01, 6 replies)

Not exactly meeting someone but waving at them instead.
On my way into the bus station on the bus I noticed that one of the roads was shut and there were coppers everywhere. I grabbed my phone and did a twitter search for Bradford to see if anyone had tweeted what was going on and if I'd need to get off the bus and walk the rest of the way to work. I had about 8 minutes before the bus would leave the station so I had plenty of time to find out.
As I'm reading down the page I notice someone had tweeted that they were having lunch sat by the window of a restaurant I was about to pass. On the spur of the moment I replied to this strangers tweet and said that I was about to pass there on my bus. She replied back asking the bus number so I told her and when I passed the restaurant she was stood at the window waving at my bus my a crazy lady. Of course I waved back like the lunatic that I am and then tweeted my thanks and told her to enjoy her lunch, she replied with her thanks and a "lol" and that was it!
It was really surreal but it still makes me smile.
( Mrs Sp@m, Thu 20 Oct 2011, 13:23, Reply)

I've met 3 women from the interwebs... that fell in love with me.
Now I must say, It's been years since I met someone from the internets, But about 10/15 years ago just on the cusp of broadband I used to spend a lot of time on a website that has now gone called "the great British quiz" the site was basically a rolling chat room that started on irc (the good old days) that a bot asked questions and it was really only a feat of memory rather than knowledge as there was only about 200 questions on the thing.

It seem to be very well populated by bored middle aged house wives, In between rounds there would be general chatting and I seemed to get singled out by the girls there as being "a nice guy" mainly because 2 lines into a private chat most of the blokes would come out with "what are you wearing" and be furiously masturbating whilst informing said women about it.

The first Woman was 32 (I was about 19) who didn't live too far from me and was married, we arranged to meet for a coffee just to put a face to the name. After about 4 pints (as the coffee was in a pub) she turned and told me that I was one of the nicest people she has talked to on the internet and she had fallen in love with me! Panic ensued as back then I had morals and thought I could never break up a "happy" marriage I made my excuses and left as soon as possible.

Then a few months later I was chatting to another woman, this one lived dahn sarff in Woking (about 200 miles from me) we exchanged phone numbers and used to chat of an evening whilst on the quiz. Three weeks into these phone calls she decided she was going to come up to Warrington to stay for a weekend to meet me. she said on her last day here "I've been to the park thinking.... I think I have fallen in love with you" Again panic, this time including sheer terror as she informed me that people might not approve as of the age difference as she was 48!!! And strangely enough (and if not to prove how old she is) she worked on the launch of the first ATM in the UK and those shots of Reg Varney using the machine, she can be seen stood next to the manager. Again I made my excuses and she was another one added to my block list.

About 8 months later I started chatting to a woman in Manchester who was confiding in me about her deeply unhappy marriage and home life. We arranged to meet in Manchester. Upon arriving she told me that she had fallen for me and wanted me to whisk her away from her dull life and that she had booked a hotel for us for the weekend. my strong moral streak went out of the window as she was stunning and I wanted to get my nuts. After we went our separate ways she would phone me every day (2 or 3 times a day) Telling me how she was unhappy and was leaving her husband. I ended up talking to her for years (and still do now). She ended up leaving him about 2 years later and I had a bit of a relationship with her. Bit awkward as her eldest daughter was only 2 years younger than me. One drunken night she took the knock and went to bed leaving me chatting with her eldest who then made a pass at me. ABSOLUTE PANIC SET IN! so I scuttled off to bed. I confessed all in the morning and she was ok with it (little dance in my head as I thought "YES! I get the mother/daughter thing here") A blazing row ensued between them. The next day it continued which ended up with her daughter storming out and moving into her dads. Then two weeks later her 17 year old daughter pulled the same move. It was at this point I called it a day deciding that there was some kind of strange emotional damage running through the entire family.

Since then I have sworn 2 things.

1: Don't be too nice and listen to peoples problems on the interweb as they take general politeness as a deep connection and are generally starved of affection to be telling a complete stranger about their issues.

2: When chatting to a woman for the first time in a private chat, To get my cock out and ask them what they're wearing!
( tim1701 I have no board signature!!!!!, Tue 25 Oct 2011, 2:39, 18 replies)

Dr Who?
As my pathetic desire for some male company overcame my shame at delving into the murky depths of internet dating I signed up for the holy grail of saddos, losers and psychos...plenty of Fish. However after a date with a man with false teeth and a man who sat down, leant across the table and said "if you sleep with me tonight i won't think you were a slut" when I hadn't even finished my first pint and we were talking about the M5 being awfully congested, I'd pretty much given up. However one night, I hit paydirt. 5 years older than me? Great. Good looking? Great. Funny witty and clever? Great AND a doctor. result! After two weeks of chatting and flirting online we decided to meet up. Much excitement was felt as I primped, preened, ironed me best top, waxed my tashe and all the other girlie things women do pre date. As I walked towards the pub I saw a man who looked 'vaguely' like my beau but squished and left out in the rain. He obviously recognised me though and came bounding over. "OK" i thought " don't be shallow. People always choose a flattering pic." We went to a pub and had a pint and we talked...dull, grinding, inane chat with him looking at me with dead eyes. "So!" I wittered "medicine! Bet that's exciting" "I dunno if I'll do it anymore" he grunted "can't fit it in. I work in a photocopier shop funny hours." "Erm..how do you fit being a doctor in?" "Oh I do St John's ambulance but my mum said girls fancy doctors. She's the one who sent you all them messages. I'm not very good with that sort of bullshit" i didn't even finish my scratchings.
(DubstepBetty Down wiv der kids since 1972, Thu 20 Oct 2011, 16:25, 5 replies)

In September 2001 I took a series of trains to the Netherlands
From the rattly South Eastern to Dover Docks, to the dawdling Belgian countrysider and the frantic platform-dashing as the conductor informs me I'm going to Haarlem, not Arnhem, the adventure took most of the day.

I sweatily disembarked 12 hours later in a sleepy town, and cast my eyes around for the blonde metaller I was supposed to be meeting. Janneke and I had been chatting around online for nearly five years, and with the new-found freedom being 18 had given me, I figured it was time for a European jaunt. I hunkered down on my backpack outside the station, and waited for her to arrive.

Ten minutes turned to twenty, and then an hour passed. I was more and more frantically checking my watch, wondering what was going on. Was I in the wrong time zone? Had I got my dates mixed up? Should I have gone to Haarlem instead? Panic was properly setting in.

I scanned the traffic, heart racing every time another vehicle pulled up to the station. Nope, not her. Nope. Nope. This bus? Nope, she's not on that one either. Fuck.

And then I saw a motorbike, a weedy rasping scooter of a thing, come buzzing down the access road to the station. Blond hair streamed behind the helmet. A petite figure clad in tight leathers. My heart was pounding.

I stood up in anticipation, and watched as a homeless man ran out of nowhere, straight into her path. She swerved, lost it, and gracelessly slid with the bike into a concrete upright. The crunch of bone and steel was sickening.

They wouldn't let me into the ambulance since I wasn't a relative or a friend. Heartbroken and bloodstained, I took the next train home, and had to explain to every conductor, the border guard and my own parents that the bloodstains and my early return weren't linked in the way they thought they were.
( Grrrmachine the indifference engine, Mon 24 Oct 2011, 17:09, 7 replies)

I was supposed to meet someone from the internet
but Rick Astley turned up.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 21 Oct 2011, 6:56, Reply)

Had broadband installed a few months ago
The guy from the internet turned up around 11am. He was friendly enough I suppose.
(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Tue 25 Oct 2011, 9:17, 5 replies)

I met a lovely lady from the internet once. We went back to myspace and she had me googling all night at her funny jokes. I gave her a quick server using a winsock of course and managed to get away without getting a virus. We updated at her adobe the next weekend.

Unfortunately she had a bebo that cried all the time. Torrents of tears in fact but we shared Wine and I crashed at hers, after an embarrassing download in her powder room I might add. The next morning she sure looked a lot more pixelated up close, so much so that I threw up on my hairy self, full sickbeard.

I decided to collect my belonging and grab all my documents and go but thought it might not be very PC to rush off, and anyway it was raining and I didn’t have my mac. So quick as a flash I grabbed my floppy and tweaked it. My harddrive sprang into life and after a bit of ram from me and some handheld from her I came over her facebook before she could byte me.

That was the start of a beautiful relationship with an understanding that allowed hot swapping and portal abuse. Unfortunately last year she 404’d. Never mind, I’m untethered now.
( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Fri 21 Oct 2011, 8:29, 4 replies)

What not to do on a first date
I broke up with my previous boyfriend back in April. Even though it was an amicable enough split, I am a catastrophic blend of naivety, misinterpretation and downright disaster when it comes to being single (the Incident with the Short German whom I Thought Fancied Me but Didn't still has my friends in hysterics periodically) and life was getting me down. So I did what every single woman who has a complete inability to tell the difference between a man talking to her because he's a normal human being and talking to her because he wants sexitime does and joined a dating website. My main aim was to have a drink or two with (hopefully) a couple of nice single men without falling over, giggling uncontrollably over something wholly inappropriate or professing my mistaken belief that Morocco is in South America. After evading the slew of messages from men who completely lost interest after telling them I wasn't interested in casual sex I eventually seemed to be hitting it off online with a man whom we shall call James, for that is not his name. We had lots in common, we talked on the phone and he sounded lovely. We arranged a time and place for a first date.

We met over a beer and everything was going as swimmingly as a polar bear on a melting iceberg, so we decided to go to dinner. This is where things started heading downhill. Foolishly, I'd decided to wear small heels and as we walked over a bridge one of my heels got stuck in between the planks. Blushing furiously, I bent down and tugged at my shoe, hoping to retrieve it swiftly and laugh it off with minimal embarrassment. However, my heel was wedged more firmly than I'd expected and as I bent over pulling at it desperately some cyclists who were coming over the bridge behind us found their path blocked by my now cringing, mortified arse. Luckily I managed to hop out of the way and James rescued my shoe, and on we went to dinner.

Now this is the point at which things started to go really wrong. I'd been feeling a little off-colour all day but had put it down to nerves and the fact that I'd been at a first aid course talking about squeamish things. However, as we sat down to dinner my stomach really began to churn, the insistent churn of a stomach in dire distress that will not be ignored. However, I ignored it as much as I could right up until the starters arrived and the smell made me realise that she was going to blow, and NOW. I swear that day I could have given Usain Bolt a damn good run for his money as I dashed for the loo and the Mount Etna of badly timed vomits proceeded to erupt violently from my stomach. Unfortunately, I had to eventually go back out and explain to James that I would have to go home immediately, no, I couldn't kiss him and I honestly wasn't faking it to get out of the date!!

Luckily, he believed me, walked me home and despite the fact I spent the next 3 days hugging porcelain didn't stop us from having our first date take 2 a week later. We've been happily together for 3 and a half months now, and I have not performed any more gastric pyrotechnics.

Length? Now that would be telling ;)

TL;DR I met a man on a dating site, vommed on first date, now he's my boyfriend.
(Petite chien is going to do science to it, Mon 24 Oct 2011, 17:37, 2 replies)

Repost of 'I've made a few notes' ammended to reflect people I've actually met.
Mykeyboy
Ah Mykey, where to start? After all there is so much of him to cover.
I'll miss his thought provoking faux-racist posts, his deliciously unsuccesful attempts to deflect fat jokes by making bad ones himself but most of all I'll miss Gazzing people the jokes about them he sends to me behind their back whilst he pretends to have them on ignore.

Piston broke
It's not really fair to bully someone because they inhabit the shit end of the Autistic spectrum, or becuase they probably collect pewter dragons with jewels for eyes, however, it does entertain me. I'll miss his ability to sour any social interaction by being pedantic, irritating and just plain scary.

Sexface
I always thought he was quite amusing, in fact I used to see something of Wormulus in Sexface. This all changed when I got the tearful phonecalls from his girlfiend (my ex) late at night. I was happy to help, I just resented the fact that it was happening at all.
Also, no matter how he slices it, he tried to chat me up on MSN on Valentines day thinking I was a girl. Congratulations Sexface, although fairplay for hosting my server.

Bob Todd
Autistic and frightening. I felt unable to relax in the same room as him/her.

Moon Girl Technologies
Hands like dinner plates. I never had the guts to ask their gender. Good with computers though.

Donkey Gums
Decided he was better than this place.
Looks like a rapist/scarecrow.

baldmonkey
You do make me laugh. Just for the record, everything you're ever made for the purposes of gaining attention on the internet is painfully shit, even with the cutest child in the world on it. I think it probably amounts to abuse, stop it.
Also, your performance at the CHB bash was the ultimate act of kerazee zaneeeeness it didn't suit you.

Blue Star
Tits like kitchen binbags at cleaning out time. Another classic example of fat short girl with BAGS OF PERSONALITY that b3ta seems to breed. Maybe I'm thinking of someone else, they all blend into one another.

Supermatt
You fucking freak of nature. You look like the internet made flesh, you're not quite as skin-crawlingly crippled as Turb0t though, so well done you and remember - Ladies love a dancer! and batman comics, you noobling.

rnuk
Even compared to me you're still a pretentious bellend. Get a fucking grip, you don't look like some steampunk alternative, you look like a chav from Manchester that's borrowed his Grandad's clothes. I hope one day you catch a glimpse of youself in a window and think about this and have a little cry. Console yourself with this though, your penis is bigger than mine, someone told me.

Captain Wow
You patronising bitch, stop refering to your boyfriend as 'the wife' it does my fucking nut in. Also, just becuase you have an opinion on something, doesn't mean it's worth sharing. Thanks.
She once stared angrily at me for a whole train-journey back from some shit-hole bash without saying a word. Real life ignore, showed me.

Gonzo
The hairy Jew. Bles you gonz, you haven't a bad bone in your body. Apart from the bone in your brain, you spastic. Were you kept in a fridge whilst the other Jews went to school? Fucking hell mate.
Also stop smoking and bathe more. You look like the grimace monster from McDonalds, except with the kind of beard that Ian Huntley would grow if he were on the run.

Sticky Label
I knew from the moment I first saw you that you were an epic ringpiece. You're like a shit version of MoT or Gmos.

Psycho Chomp
You look like a paperclip salesman and have a fucking stupid name, other than that you should stick to being the coolest person on QotW. What an accolade!

Kersal Missive
I was always reasonably respectful to you on here, despite you being a mentalist and extremely rude to me OFFLINE! You look like Anne Frank in her final hours, although being a young girl Anne Frank probably didn't have a bush like a brillo pad. Another person who has clicked the real life ignore button on me (before the original version of this post).

cr3
Most people's faces have something at the bottom, we call it a chin. Get one, now. I am genuinely sick of hearing about your life, being a supergeek is like being Stephen Hawking, respect where its due but don't get cocky, you're still a mongling.

Amorous Badger
You've seem intent on sucking the life out of b3ta and feeding it to WW.

Charmander
Haha, I love meeting people with that special brand of self-confidence that comes from pretending to be really confident whilst simultaneously being terrified of yourself.

That prat with the long communist name from OT
100% pillock, no disrespect.

Beckjsbx
Angry cat-lady.

If I've met you and you've not received a mention please reply to this thread.
( WormuIus, Sat 22 Oct 2011, 14:42, 30 replies)

Haha, just remembered this. My uncle joined Friends Reunited way back when it was all new and exciting.
He was worried about being stalked though, so registered with a false name.

A few weeks later, wondering why none of his school chums were contacting him, he realised that none of them would realise it was him due to the false name - so he re-registered with his real name.

And promptly got stalked by someone who professed her undying love and how she'd not stopped thinking about him for all the years they'd been apart since school :D
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Fri 21 Oct 2011, 16:14, 2 replies)

B3ta broke my jaw
"I'm just going out to a gay club with some guys I met on the internet" was never going to be an easy sell to Mrs Andrist, but being the trusting woman that she is, she made no objection.

8 hours after my first b3ta bash I arrive home....covered in blood, no lenses in my glasses, cuts on my various parts of my body and a huge gash on my chin (which turned out to be a fractured jaw). I'm now banned from meeting "fucking b3ta weirdos".
( Sheriff John Bunnell https://twitter.com/thewonderfulgam, Fri 21 Oct 2011, 15:55, 11 replies)

Some of my best friends are people that I've met through this site...
I expect most of you know about Jessie... Well I met her through b3ta, that counts on its own.

As well though, I've met quite a few of you lot now, at various bashes and things, and several of you are among my very best friends - indeed, some of you will be at my wedding. There are even b3tards I class as friends who I've never actually met in "real life", which I guess some people could take as a little odd.

I still know people who, despite all the stories (and non-stories) on here this week, think that OMG PEOPLE ON THE INTERNET IS RAPISTS AND MURDERERS. To them, I'd say look at this thread (warning - it's hard going, I still can't get to the bottom with a dry eye):

www.b3ta.com/board/10050833

Look at all the support and emotion there; how can that be a bad thing?
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Fri 21 Oct 2011, 13:19, 7 replies)

I hate it when you meet a '40 year old man' in real life
and they turn out to be a bisexual teenage girl.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 21 Oct 2011, 13:04, 2 replies)

Pearoast time!
it was through match.com some years ago. I had put up my profile again after the Travel Agent moved out, and was trawling the waters to see what sort of nibbles I might get. What the hell, said I to myself- I had had good luck in the past with it, after all.

One of the women who contacted me was a dental hygienist who ran her own school to train dental hygienists, the divorced wife of a local (and quite successful) dentist. Her emails were nice, and when we exchanged phone numbers she sounded quite pleasant- very cheerful and bouncy, talking almost nonstop as though she had just had four shots of espresso, and rather funny. So I did what one does in those circumstances and suggested getting together for coffee.

"Coffee? Well, I guess... but I'd really rather have a drink."

Hmmmm, we got a live one here, I thought. "Sure, I'm good with that. Where would you like to meet?"

"Well, could you come and pick me up at my house?"

A bit unusual, but what the hell... "Sure. When would you like me there?"

"Just come on over." And she gives me directions to her house.

So I drove over there and found her to be in a rather large house in a new subdivision. I ring the doorbell and am greeted by a six foot woman with very long frizzy black hair, deep brown eyes and a lighthouse smile. She gave me a hug- actually, quite nice as she was wearing a tank shirt and snug shorts- and followed me to my car. She suggested a Mexican restaurant not far away and I agreed.

We had gone maybe five minutes down the road before she started telling me about how she had had a bikini wax that afternoon, and went into detail. Lots of detail.

We got to the restaurant and she ordered food and tequila. Okay, I thought, she's not driving, she's hungry, and at least she's eating while she's drinking. I got food and a beer and sat back to listen. The conversation went from dental hygienist training to her former career as a stripper, and as the tequila vanished the details came out faster. She told me all about what it was like, and how one of the most erotic experiences she ever had was when she went to another club and a young blonde gave her a lap dance and kissed her.

By now I was really trying very hard not to either laugh or scream, but I could tell it was only a matter of time. After several more rounds and a lot of animated talk, we paid the bill and I drove her home. She asked me in and I went along, mainly out of a sort of horrid fascination to see what was coming next. She poured us another couple of drinks, and the conversation again turned to stripping and how she had gotten implants to make her boobs match the rest of her proportions.

"Implants?" I repeated, a bit taken aback.

"Yeah, take a look!" And the shirt was pulled up. They popped out, unhindered by a bra. "See, they don't feel quite right, though." And she took my hands and put them on her boobs and pressed them firmly into her.

"Umm... yeah, I guess you're right..." I gasped somewhat weakly. By now my mind was thoroughly blown and my head was spinning. I finally made my excuses- I was far too flipped out by her to shag, and besides she was pretty well drunk- and stood to go. But as we stood by the door I gave in to an impulse and gave her a long, powerful kiss as I leaned back with my arms around her, lifting her slightly off the floor. (A great trick- it takes their breath away and makes them feel light, and makes it very intense.) As expected, she got extremely aroused and responded rather urgently- but I broke away and headed home before anything further could happen.

As I drove home I tried to sort out the evening, got the giggles, then gave in and screamed a few times and went belming down the road. Okay, I thought, that was the most surreal first date I've ever had. Must have been a one-off, though- she must have had a couple before I got there. I can't imagine that this is something that would happen again...

I was wrong.

I won't go into details, but suffice it to say that when she had a couple of drinks in her she became quite the handful. We went out a few times more, and on one date she had enough vodka and cranberry to be weaving a bit, and was not playing pool very well by then. She was wearing a lace shirt with a red bra- the only time I've seen her wearing one- and said something joking to a couple of guys at the bar. They laughed and joked back with her, and she leaned in and said something else- and suddenly they scattered from her as though she had turned into Beelzebub. I still don't know what she said, but it was about as close as that black dude will ever come to being white...

That was when I swore off dating.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Wed 26 Oct 2011, 14:01, 5 replies)

I haven't met her yet.....
My marriage was loveless and.. abusive, I guess. I tried to leave a million times and always failed, gave in. I joined Tumblr, and got a lovely message from a girl from the USA. We got chatting, found that we both got one another's sense of humour. She helped me find strength, an interest in art, unlocked my passion for writing, and helped me in ways I cannot even describe.

I finally left my wife in March. After difficult times, I truly believe we are in love (and so does she), and, around 1500 hours of skype sessions, hours on the phone, MSN chats, kik messenger chats, photos, videos, voice messages, and around 30,000 emails later, I really think this is go. We meet a week before Christmas, after a few false starts due to illness and my divorce. So no, I haven't met her yet, but I will soon, and this is probably the most important meeting of my life.

Yes, I'm a slushy fuck.
(V3lvetPresley, Wed 26 Oct 2011, 2:14, 48 replies)

How I Met Mrs Strokes
We got chatting on Sickipedia. at the time we were both with other people, but both of those relationships were clearly in trouble, which is something we had in common and chatted about. what attracted us to each other was that made each other laugh. I split up with my hag of an ex, and she split up with her wife beating ex con of a twat within about 3 weeks of each other. I was sitting one Saturday afternoon in Essex, Chatting to her online in Portsmouth. So I said why don't I drive down. that was over two years ago. last year I moved to Portsmouth, She's sitting next to me right now and is my soulmate. I love her to bits and cannot imagine ever being without her.
(Vinegar strokes Should know better on, Sat 22 Oct 2011, 12:41, 10 replies)

Vodka and Vaseline
He was my best friend's secret lesbian lover's boyfriend. We met over the internet because we got lumped into an IM conversation organising a party together and found we had a lot in common. We talked online for weeks, and discovered we lived practically in sight of each other's houses: score! So we drank together for most of our remaining teenage years, laughing at each other's failings with women and academia in a haze of cigarette smoke, and then out of nowhere he tried to forcefully bum me while I was sat on his bed playing Halo while shithoused.

And that's why I don't like Halo.
(a gun that fires other, smaller guns full of jizz, Thu 20 Oct 2011, 22:11, 4 replies)

Sarah Beeny - Property Developer, Media Whore, Dating Guru...
I once tried Beeny's website where your mates 'sell' you to prospective birds/blokes by writing a paragraph or two highlighting your best features. My mates James wrote a bit of blurb, with the best line being - 'Mr Fudge's best body part is his nipples'.

Now I don't know what is wrong with you ladies, but I was literally inundated with err.. some emails asking for photos of my chest bulls-eyes. I mean you all have tits that you can look at in the mirror, lube up and play with, and yet you want to see my hairy moobs? It's just weird. Anyway, one message in particular leaps to mind...

From a 47yr old, HUUUGE divorced single mum of three from Stockport (I am 31 and live in London).

It simply read, 'We have something in common. My best features are my nips too. Though you won't get to see them when we meet up. Unless you buy me dinner first. ;-)

I'm seeing her this weekend. As far as I'm concerned, any hole's a goal, even though after three kids, it'll be like throwing a sausage down a corridor. Wish me luck!
(Mr Fudge It shouldn't be illegal to have sex with an eagle, Thu 20 Oct 2011, 17:01, 17 replies)

You can only pick two.
I've discovered through my numerous meetings with people from t'internet, both planned and coincidental, that 99% of the time they turn out to be only ever two of the following

1 - Single
2 - Mentally stable
3 - Attractive

I've yet to meet someone who has all three of this point and yes, I include myself.
(Official Sarc, Thu 20 Oct 2011, 13:12, 2 replies)

I chose the picture of the car I wanted to hire on the internet and then I met it in real life at the airport.
I guess it's a bit like internet dating but instead of a woman it was a car.
Also I didn't have sex with the car.
(PR1CKBOT IS ONLINE, Sun 23 Oct 2011, 21:28, 14 replies)

I met Mr Spakkaman once.
His cock doesn't do that pre cum thing.
(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Thu 20 Oct 2011, 19:19, 5 replies)

I was a member of a website
populated by the shadiest assortment of basement-dwelling dog-rapists & kiddy-fiddlers who also happened to be in possession of the shonkiest set of photoshop skills that ever graced the lowest gutters of this internet. It was a truly magnificent place.
I say 'was' because recently that hallowed site seems to have cashed in it's chips and the Norwegian fellow by whose hand alone it could be resurrected seems to have gone AWOL about 7 years ago...
Look, it's very complicated o.k? But I met someone off it and I'm still alive. This is my story.

It was about 6 years ago, in the time before I got completely fucking sick of my fellow countrymen and became the happy and contented near-shut-in that I am today. Before I go too much further I have to confess to that I'm an Australian, Perthite to be precise. And one of the banal habits of us Aussies then - not so much now because this computing business seems to have gotten quite popular - was to be completely surprised and delighted when discovering that another Aussie has also worked out how to internet. In those heady days every Aussie online knew each other. So when S and I discovered that we both lived not only on the same continent BUT IN THE SAME STATE and only 3 hours apart, we became instant friends (also S is genuinely a pretty cool guy, to be fair...and in case by some weird magick he is reading this).
So when S messaged me that it was his 21st birthday coming up, I messaged back that that sounded pretty fucking sweet and I would be coming down.
At the time I was seeing a guy, Brad, I'd picked up off adultfriendfinder.com - who turned out to be an abusive psycho (surprise!), but that is another story - although probably a more interesting one if, like me, you're the kind of gratuitous voyeuristic arsehole who enjoys reading about other people's emotional trauma. And you know you are. I digress...
Long story short (ha! no it isn't!), it's after work friday night and Brad-the-psycho and I drive 3 hours down the coast and arrive in bumfuck W.A. (actually one of Western Ausfailure's major regional centres. If you've never been to Bunbury - it's like the south of France. Shut up, it is so. Don't google it.) We swing by a liquor store and grab a bottle of the second-to-finest tequila they have in stock for the birthday boy. Because I really am just that classy.
So by now it's geting lateish, and it's dark. And the local shire clearly didn't believe in wasting money on such frivolities as street signs - possibly to reduce the number of hanging points available to it's population. So I ring S and instead of giving us, you know, instructions, he said he'd drive out to meet us and guide us safely to his house like a big, friendly, probably-been-drinking-all-fucking-day tugboat. Realise that at this point we'd never met before so when he screeches to a halt up to where we were waiting on some desolate sideroad, it was all awkward hugs and introductions and then "Follow me!" so we followed. We got to the party and some drama involving low alcohol supplies was unfolding, so S waves us in and heads back out into the wilds of bumfuck on the mission to secure more appropriate levels of piss.
After his tail lights disappeared, it becomes pretty apparent that most of S's mates appeared to be 16 year old goth chicks with an added assortment of druggies, geeks and ne'er-do-wells. My kinda people, really, but Brad was a dick and an awkward one at that. It was still early days in what was only to be a two month relationship before he showed his true colours and I am a pretty nice person really, so to alleviate his awkwardness and the fact that he stuck out like the sorest of thumbs I stayed by him and was kinda prevented from mingling. For several hours. Until the party boy was processed and released from the lock-up, told that drinking and driving is stupid, m'kay?, and given his summons to appear before the local magistrate.
S finally arrived back at his party, which by this point seemed to involve setting a series of small spot fires in his backyard - they really, really liked to burn stuff. He then set about showing me how to imbibe a 'tequila suicide' which, if I recall, involved rubbing citric acid on one's EYEBALL and then slugging back a lethal-sized dose of tequila.
21st birthdays are memorable, milestone occasions and S's was no different. He got lots of nice gifts, some weed and some tequila, a medium-to-heavily charred backyard, temporary blindness and 8 months loss of his license. Top night.
(Gritty, yet fluffy. kipperpillock is obsessed with me =), Thu 20 Oct 2011, 16:24, 5 replies)

First time on the internet- aged 12
I joined a forum on a kid's website and started chatting to someone who I thought was a guy.

After a few weeks they asked me if I thought it was weird that they liked girls- I said of course not. We kept chatting.

A few weeks later they thanked me for giving them the courage to tell their parents they were gay. They sent me a charm bracelet in the mail, which I still wear, and 10 years later I still hear from them.

I would have said I was fine with it either way, if I'd known they were a girl at the start... but it just stuns me that, because the internet is so anonymous, something that could so easily have been an oversight helped someone make such a momentous choice.
(Sivvus trolley collision in the fruit aisle led to a jam, Thu 20 Oct 2011, 16:03, 6 replies)

Cos my mrs is one of them forrin immigrants
She likes to tell people that she only married me for my passport.

So I say she was a mail-order bride that I bought on the internet.
"Actually, I found her on eBay", I like to tell them.

It's amazing how many people believe it...
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Thu 20 Oct 2011, 15:23, 12 replies)

She wrote in comic-sans and had the sweetest disposition of not being able to spell most words correctly.
I met her in a Yahoo chatroom in 2002 and we would often stay up late, talking for hours. Whenever the chat-box opened on my screen with caligirl1988 I would go weak at the knees. She made my life worth living.

Over the next few weeks we talked about the films and cartoons she liked, the kids in her class who poke fun at her lisp and how she disliked them and also the possibility of meeting up one day.

At first she was reluctant, saying she was worried about what her parents might think but I comforted her and said that it wasn't important what they thought as long as we were happy. She finally plucked up enough courage to agree to meet me. In early 2003 I met caligirl1988 in the woods for a picnic, under the condition that I would drop her back at home before sun-down. It was a picture perfect afternoon as I wooed my comic-sans beauty, in a setting that would take her breath away.

I often gaze through these bars into the outside world and wonder what could have been for me and caligirl1988.
( mike woz ere 7442200 & 7696970 getter, Thu 20 Oct 2011, 15:00, 4 replies)