Not Losing Your Virginity
Think back, way back, to when you were a spotty virgin.* It was all a bit overwhelming, wasn't it? I remember going to see a band as a teenager and standing behind a girl who I kinda liked, but who had been showing a lot of interest in a friend for the past week. She reached back and squeezed my leg.
I panicked. Brain decided that she'd clearly made a mistake and thought I was my friend: "Er, you've got the wrong bloke"
It was hours before I worked out what was going on.
So, tell us the stories of when you failed to lose your virginity - whether through your own ineptitude or simply because they scared the bejesus out of you.
* Apologies to spotty virgins out there. Wash.
( , Fri 27 Oct 2006, 12:13)
Think back, way back, to when you were a spotty virgin.* It was all a bit overwhelming, wasn't it? I remember going to see a band as a teenager and standing behind a girl who I kinda liked, but who had been showing a lot of interest in a friend for the past week. She reached back and squeezed my leg.
I panicked. Brain decided that she'd clearly made a mistake and thought I was my friend: "Er, you've got the wrong bloke"
It was hours before I worked out what was going on.
So, tell us the stories of when you failed to lose your virginity - whether through your own ineptitude or simply because they scared the bejesus out of you.
* Apologies to spotty virgins out there. Wash.
( , Fri 27 Oct 2006, 12:13)
« Go Back
oh dear god
when i was about 14 there was this girl i really fancied who lived around the corner but who i was too scared to talk to.
Instead of striking up a conversation I sent her a letter, written on pink womble notepaper (for fuck sake) asking her to meet me in the graveyard (oh you creepy fwacker)
something must have been right though, as she turned up. however, she brought her friend, who was a couple of years older and (to me) quite frightening
i told a lie and said 'my mate Mike' had arranged to meet me and must have stitched me up. no. i don't want to go out with you. ergh. you. are. a. girl.
she looked really sad and we never spoke again
( , Mon 30 Oct 2006, 0:05, Reply)
when i was about 14 there was this girl i really fancied who lived around the corner but who i was too scared to talk to.
Instead of striking up a conversation I sent her a letter, written on pink womble notepaper (for fuck sake) asking her to meet me in the graveyard (oh you creepy fwacker)
something must have been right though, as she turned up. however, she brought her friend, who was a couple of years older and (to me) quite frightening
i told a lie and said 'my mate Mike' had arranged to meet me and must have stitched me up. no. i don't want to go out with you. ergh. you. are. a. girl.
she looked really sad and we never spoke again
( , Mon 30 Oct 2006, 0:05, Reply)
« Go Back