not me, but the guy i wasted almost my entire 3 years of university dating (let's call him oswald. because his real name was even dumber)
our halls were comprised of flats. about halfway through the first term, my flatmate decided we needed to invite the other flats in the block to the pub, so we did. i'd seen Oswald around, but never really spoken to him. that night we got on very well, and eventually ended up in his room having a late night beer and chat (nothing happened for a few more weeks. perhaps because of what happened next).

I asked him idly why there were no sheets on his bed. he pointed to where they were crumpled in the corner of the room. I was expecting him to say that he hadn't got up in time for the laundry van or something, but no. no, he said:

"you know that little mate of Emily's with the bright red hair, nicky*? well, I shagged her and she came on all over them halfway through."

this would be gross enough now (not so much the coming on, can't really be helped I guess, but KEEPING THEM IN THE CORNER OF YOUR ROOM? URRRGH, THERE WAS A LAUNDRETTE NEXT DOOR), but I was 18 and innocent. I nearly died of shock.

* her name was nicky burrow, and I promptly renamed her "sticky furrow" which stuck for the rest of the 3 years.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Thu 13 Mar 2014, 19:06, 1 reply)

It's a knack you've got at choosing blokes isn't it?

( edjogs Collared doves are shit., Thu 13 Mar 2014, 20:27, closed)