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This is a question What's the hardest you've tried to get dumped?

Groovypoodle writes, "My mate once told his girlfriend that he didn't think it was working only for her to laugh and tell him he was hilarious. Saying she was 'too weird' and 'slightly violent' and that he didn't like her was equally hilarious. Ripping off her wing mirror, throwing it through the windscreen
and storming off in a huff merely generated an apology from her a week later..."

Just how hard have you had to work to get someone to take the hint and stay dumped?

(, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 10:33)
Pages: Latest, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, ... 1

This question is now closed.

never be dumped...or had to dump someone
never been dumped...never tried to dump...

never been in a relationship to find out...

anyone want to enlighten me...?

of course, I didn't mention I'm 32 and gay
(, Wed 11 Jun 2008, 16:05, 11 replies)
Putting the 'Crow' in Croquet...
When I was a Devil going through his late teenage years, I wanted money. No, to be honest I wanted both money and a social life, and the opportunity to talk with pretty girls. So I got myself a job at one of Halstead’s premier drinking establishments, and so began 6 years of working bars the length and breadth of the country. Well, Essex and West Yorkshire, but you get the point.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m rubbish at approaching women in bars or clubs. But put me behind the pumps and I’m like a different person; I’ll flirt along with the best of them. Occasionally – very occasionally – I would end up trading numbers with girls at the bar, and thenceforth nature would take its course.

One such girl was S. Lovely, she was, if a little Essex. You know: the sovereign ring, the bleached hair, the screeching voice of a harridan. We went on a couple of dates and eventually ended up on my bed having a bit of a kiss and some strictly on-top-of-the-clothes-and-don’t-you-even-think-of-heading-down-there fumbling. After a couple of hours she gets up to leave and I, with blue balls, was left to my own devices. At the door, she turned to me and said, through a cloud of Lambert and Butler:

“I love you.”

Well. Bugger me sideways with a spork. Two dates, a bit of fumbling, and she’s in love with me. I’m good. But raise the alarm. Marshal the troops. Get the big thing that goes “DANGER! DANGER” going. We’re in trouble lads. Phone Houston, let them know. You see, although S was fun, I wasn’t really in to her any more. And, in my 18-year-old wisdom, I thought the best way to let her know this was to behave like I didn’t know any better.

It came around to the following Friday evening. I was working the late shift and, at around 1am, I was doing a glass run. I turned from the bar to find a girl behind me who seemed to be using my leg as a sort of stand in scratching pole. And she had a scratch in her special places, judging by the eagnerness with which she was rubbing it against my thigh. I gave in to temptation. I had a little boogie. And, just as my lips locked with this enigmatic beauty, I saw S.

She stood at the end of the bar, wearing a long black coat, black boots, black trousers and a black top. In short, she looked like the fucking Crow. Her hair hung over her face, and she glowered at me. From where I was, I could actually feel the hatred radiating from her. She turned on her heel, and walked out.

In my (admittedly bastardly) mind, I thought “Mission Accomplished!”, and returned to my work. Two hours later, I had cleaned, locked up and was heading home. Stepping out in to the rain of the early morning, I unlocked my car, clambered in, and started sorting out a CD. Turning on the engine, I flicked on the lights and put the car in gear.


“What the fuckity fuck fuck FUCK?” I screamed. Looking to my left I saw a rain-soaked S, winding up to strike the side panel of my car door with the Croquet Mallet from the games lawn (how very middle class, being attacked by a Croquet Mallet?).


In my haste to get out of the car, I’d left it in gear. So, as I kangarooed across the car park, I was pursued by a soaking wet, emotionally unstable girl beating seven shades of shit out of the vehicle. I rammed my foot on the clutch, stopped the car, relocated the gear, floored the accelerator and got the hell out of dodge. Looking in my rear-view mirror, I saw her charge in to the street after me, brandishing the mallet and screaming like a banshee.

(Time for the Moral of The Story. The girl I had kissed on that night was, as it turned out, married. Word got back to her husband of our little kiss, and he paid me a visit a week later. I did escape being put through a leaded window, but did not escape a damned good pasting. I probably got what I deserved though.)
(, Wed 11 Jun 2008, 15:43, 9 replies)
I've only ever dumped one and she came back
All of the others dumped me.

The first, aged 13 at a party after barely a week of courting. I wept like a little girl and retired to my bedroom to play Queens, 'Just One Year Of Love' over and over again, I think on the 7" flipside of 'Who Wants To Live Forever?" from top 5 movie of all time 'Highlander'.

I retired from the love game for a good few years after that and was 18 or 19 when it started all over again.

Hazel - Irish bird in college - there was a distance issue once we finished college and that was that cos we was po' and couldn't afford to travel.

Sophie, French bird - cheated on her (not really - it was a sneaky drunken snog in a bar) but i told her it was worse to get her to leave me. I dont recall why - she was sweet. I think I was just bored and frisky.

Stephanie - Scottish, left me after three years for a Belgian - A BLOODY BELGIAN!

Niamh - half French/Irish, still my fave. Left me after four volatile years citing lack of committment. She's still a mate. I was at her wedding so you CAN remain friends.

Edel - Irish - decimated me after one year. I was at the low point of a long therapeutic process and simply couldnt cope. To this day I would give it all up for one last shag.

Suzanne - Irish, left me when she discovered she was preggers by her ex. Shame - she was sound.

Those are the big ones, the ones that left a mark. I have been dumped, ignored, rejected and spurned by countless others.
(, Wed 11 Jun 2008, 15:25, 10 replies)
As I've mentioned before
I don't have to try. As this QOTW is moving so slow, I shall regail you with the tale of what was almost a happy encounter. A cautionary tale, in a sens, to avoid teenagers. The tale of the double dumping.

Now. If you are unlucky enough to have seen any of my posts before, you'll know I don't have much luck with women. This comes from a chronic lack of self confidence, basically. You might also have picked up that I look a lot younger than I am.

I spend a great deal of my time single. I had a doomed marriage to a shit-stain wife who destroyed what confidence I had when she fucked off (blah blah) so I don't really make a lot of effort to, erm, 'pull'. So when anyone puts more than a tiny bit of effort into getting to know me past the mad little funny guy who makes them laugh, I tend to get my hopes up. It has happened a few times now, but none were more surprising than "C".

C was a bit of a shock, really. I met her through friends and got chatting to her through myspace..... she had gone out with one of my mates who had, for lack of a better phrase, pumped her and dumped her. She was tiny, slim, stunning and 19 years old at the time, 10 years my junior. I was taken aback when she started showing an interest in me, so when she practically begged me to change my plans to go to a mutual friends party 'because you always make me smile', I did. We spent much of the night chatting and she took my number.

Ah I wish I could say I was naive. In the back of my mind I knew she was trying to make my friend jealous. So it wasn't much of a surprise to my cynical old self when she texted me after two dates to say the age gap was freaking her out. I told her not to worry, I understood and I'd forget about coming to see her the next day..... but no! She still wanted to see me 'as a friend' so I agreed.

When I arrived, she had a friend with her (the one who later also played about with my brain) so we sat for a while and had a laugh until her friend was about to leave. I felt I'd better leave too so I said night-night, dropped her friend off and went home. C'est la vie.

About an hour later, I received a massive 3 page text explaining how the age gap had meant nothing really and asking me to go on msn... once there, she told me she'd hardly been able to keep her hands off me but was scared because her previous 3 relationships had left her scarred (one of them being my mate). She told me she thought I was different to all the others and had started to trust me which had freaked her out, and even started talking about (if we're still together in two years...) which, to be honest, was a bit soon but I ignored the alarm bells. I promised her I wouldn't hurt her and we talked on into the night, arranging to meet again on saturday, one week after the party we'd got together at. We met. It all seemed to go well.... I took things slowly as is my way.

Now I know it may seem from all this that I had acquired a limpet. An unshakeable, needy tick of a girl. But no! This is me we're talking about. She dumped me on the monday, saying she just wasn't ready for a relationship, and promptly wrote a blog on myspace explaining how happy and in love she was with her ex who had returned from the army on the sunday. Lurid details of the sex, the lot. She also told a friend of mine I wasn't forward enough, and she's single and heartbroken again now apparently.

So there we are. I got dumped twice in one week by the same person. Bloody scatty teenagers! I really do NOT need to try.

Soz for lack of funny but it's a slow week and it's my last story, and apologies for length, had she had more patience I'd have said that to her too!
(, Wed 11 Jun 2008, 14:16, 13 replies)
A passing memory flitted across my brain and I remembered the "Hot Or Not" board for B3tards. So I quickly checked it out.

I've been dumped.

Not from the board entirely but from the top 100.

I can't even use my age as an excuse as the fucking Resident Loon weighs in at number 2! And he's a Merkin!

But the thing that hurts most is that fucking Apeloverage is way ahead of me at number 60 something. That aches.

Still. At least I'm ahead of Citadel and he was a Marine. And fate has somehow put me and Pooflake right next to each other.


(, Wed 11 Jun 2008, 13:23, 167 replies)
The Hardest Dumping...
It took 5 hours, lots of straining, in fact I think I shit a kidney out.

*looks at question*

Oh Shit.
(, Wed 11 Jun 2008, 13:20, Reply)
it's not that hard
why is everyone justifying the fact that they wanted to dump someone?
never mind "why" you want to dump them- you do.
just go ahead and do it.

...and then you won't feel the need to try to justify your actions X years later.

and you'll probably have as few problems doing it as i ever did.
(, Wed 11 Jun 2008, 12:18, 12 replies)
its just not working
I saw you for a few months on and off, I was shy at first and intimidated by what had come previously, and your ex's were always there showing off and sometimes hogging your attention but I persevered.

But it wasn't enough was it, you just weren't happy with me so i did what you wanted and saw you every day, for hours I would labour away but you spurned me, so I did more, harder "what more do you want from me?" I would wonder after lying there emotionally and physically spent after each session left you unmoved.

We even tried someone else remember, maybe the three of us would spark something off, but he bullied me all the time and again I was intimidated by his size, that pleased you didn't it? I could never match him.

Inevitabally I was drawn towards drugs to try and satisfy you, I injected, swallowed, snorted and digested anything I could get my hands on but still you rejected my advances and laughed at my feeble efforts, so after a year I gave up, im sorry, I failed you.

Thats the hardest I ever tried to get pumped.

Signed, an 11stone weakling.
(, Wed 11 Jun 2008, 12:07, 3 replies)
A few years ago...
Ernest Rosenbergstein was driving through his hometown when suddenly a guy walking along the pavement jumped out in front of him. The car screeched to a stop just in time to avoid the pedestrain, but the ped just spat at the car and ran off.

"Oy Vey, you damnded fool!" Rosenbergstein yelled. "I'll get you for that! Even if it takes my whoe life, I will get you, you dumb pedestrian!"

And so he did. He invested every penny he had in finding the mystery ped, bankrupted the family business and ended up dying of a stress related ulcer having never tracked down that pedestrian.

And that is the hardest that Jew tried to get dumb ped.
(, Wed 11 Jun 2008, 11:16, 4 replies)
As it's Wednesday...
About six months ago I met a lovely young man in a bar.
He was tall, dark haired and had a penetrating stare.

We got chatting, and he ended up persuading me to come back to his flat.

It was strange, as we went through the house, and out to a small wooden shack, a long way down the garden.

I got a bit worried by this point, but he just grinned at me, and that reassured me enough.

After we stepped through the door everything went black.
The next thing I knew, I found myself floating up out of my viciously mutilated body, which was wrapped in chicken wire and diving weights, in the boot of his car.

As I watched, he drove to a lake, parked up, and threw my body in.

That was the hardest, and last time that I was dumped.

Ex-Mrs Kaol (for one night only)
(, Wed 11 Jun 2008, 9:26, 253 replies)
Not relationships but politics
In the House of Commons, there was a Chinese MP called Mr. Tsu. He sold himself as a survivor of the Nazi atrocities in Auschwitz. A scandal recently came to light. During these troubled times, he was secretly informing the Nazis of the misdemeanours of his fellow prisoners in exchange for some comfort. This shocked many of his 'brothers' and anyone else who hated the Nazis. His fellow MPs tried to kick him out, but he fought back valiantly and managed to stay on. He has changed his selling point and bills himself as follows: Hua Tse - hardest Jew traitor ghetto MP.
(, Wed 11 Jun 2008, 8:48, 22 replies)
My first internet love
When I first got on the interwebs I was a very outgoing person keen to chat to everyone that popped up on my ICQ. And being a massive nerd, I'd stay up all night chatting to various people around the world. Life was good.

Now I quickly need to explain. I live in Australia. Through no fault of my own. This means my day = night in the US. And my night = day in the US. Simple.

One day I start chatting to this girl from the US. She's all goofy and hot for my Aussie accent and we ended up swapping phone numbers after a few weeks so we could talk. (This is many years before skype and other such services).
All was good until she starting asking me when I was coming to visit the states and her. I told her from the outset, no way. I was a young man living at home working in a news agency so international travel was out.
She seemed to be cool with that, but never let the subject drop and eventually it was the main topic of her calls.

So being the gent I am. I stop taking her calls and put her on ignore. I think since we didn't touch rude bits or confess undying love it would be ok. We didn't even talk about the g/f b/g thing.

But he kept ringing me. Sometimes at 4am in the morning. When I told her that it was a bit early to call, she made a point to do it. So I just unplugged the phone before sleeping.

Eventually the calls stopped and I didn't hear from her for many months. Then one day I got a call from her. She told me that my dumping of her caused her to break down and she tried to kill herself. It was all my fault and I was a asshole to that (I love how Americans say asshole. It's so cute). She then spent the next few minutes abusing me.

Then it hit me. The best way to fuck her off.

"Hey, you know how you love my accent so much?"
"Then how about this GARN GIT FARKED!"

And hung up. Never heard from her again.

The End.

ps: this is my b3ta cherry popped. Hello English people!

No apologies for length as I have a very small penis.
(, Wed 11 Jun 2008, 7:02, 6 replies)
Simple, but effective - being myself
***Tangential-to-topic alert***
***Unfunny alert also***

This is a long one but I'm afraid to say that it worked (in getting me unceremoniously dumped).

I met someone a couple of years ago whilst in the depths of a seriously depressive episode (unmedicated at the time - now medicated, thankfully, see below) and fell absolutely head over heels for her (walking on air, giggling like a teenager (I'm in my late 30s),the whole nine yards).

She (G) was everything I had ever wanted in a partner; hugely (intimidatingly) intelligent, funny, physically attractive, talented in everything (i.e., as well as being a scientist type was also an outdoorsy type and a musical type) ... absolutely everything.

All went swimmingly. We met on the Tuesday evening, on the Friday went away for the weekend to pick up my car and drive back to the UK, moved in together on the Sunday, got a dog, spent Christmas together, met her family and friends, joined in all of the family events and everything seemed to be going swimmingly were it not for the skeletons within my closet all of which I'd hidden away in the interests of not losing this wonderful human being that I'd met.

HUGE Mistake.

Two days after coming back from a great holiday in June 2007 to the Maldives for a weeks' diving, she left me. The skeletons that I'd made tangential allusion to (but by agreement between us we hadn't explored together) avalanched and overwhelmed us both.

At that point I reacted in a typically overdramatic fashion and threw myself headlong into work. She said that none of the skeletons mattered but that, having kept them in place for so long, she couldn't and wouldn't come back.

This threw my sideways and I've since been in treatment on a regular basis, my health insurance paying a fortune to a consultant on a weekly basis who's managing to pay his mortgage on the basis of all of my (perceived or real) inadequacies.

My consultant has a quote from me that he uses on a regular basis - "My crime is being Edmund, unfortunately my punishment is also being Edmund"

I've been being medicated with lamotrigine (50mg) and venlaflaxine (225mg) since November 2007 and it's been increased twice (current levels in parantheses). I'm now in a long-wavelength, low-amplitude, low-frequency cycle and feel a LOT better if emotionally somewhat numb.

Do I miss the emotional highs (the hypomanic states)? Yes, sometimes - I got huge, superhuman amounts done in limited time and managed to produce a very high quality of research / patent output.

Do I miss the lows, standing on a bridge calculating velocities and, to quote the Barenaked Ladies, "Frightened of jumping / In case they survive"? Hell NO.

As for the cattle market that is the field of human relationships, I've been "off the market" for the last year and I'm now only tentatively beginning to feel my way back to it. It's difficult, especially when the full weight of my past comes out - I fear hiding things from people but at the same time try not to act like a human tsunami of all of the crap from my past irrespective of the good stuff that's gone with it; anything other than total disclosure from the outset seems to be an act of betrayal by me and I have to learn how to temper this.

So - if someone called Edmund drops in to your "real" (non-online) life - feel free to ask him a series of difficult questions and I can guarantee that he'll answer them with abundant total and complete candour. Just please don't be disappointed that he's done that when you ask.

Peace and love, y'all.

(, Wed 11 Jun 2008, 6:08, 11 replies)
the skinny klingon
i was in an on-off relationship with an ex for 12 years. the "off" parts were always his fault, he would do stupid things like come into the bathroom for a shit while i was in the bath, or lay on the couch watching t.v while i cleaned, then ask me to make him lunch, which would lead to a huge row and a break-up. he's a lazy good-for-nothing stoner, but he never hit me and he gives the best full-body massages, so we'd always get back together.
to be honest, i treated him like shit. i belittled him in front of our friends, i threw ornaments at him when i was angry, i even let a mate of mine shoot him in the balls with a pellet gun(i was wasted, though). he wouldn't do anything to defend himself, which made me even more agressive towards him.
finally, i realised that our relationship was far from healthy and his passive nature was turning me into someone i really didn't like, so i decided it would be best if we broke up.
i tried talking to him, i tried reasoning with him, i tried telling him that i couldn't be with him and that i didn't love him. none of it worked.
going to the burger bar where he works as a cleaner(hah!) and telling his workmates(bigger hah! nobody there likes him) that i'd caught him dancing round my bedroom to janet jackson, wearing a skin-tight leopardskin dress and with a huge hardon, now, that had to work, right?
he forgave me.
i screamed in his face that i didn't want him to forgive me, i wanted him to leave. the floodgates opened and i let rip. i called him everything i could think of, threw things at him, the lot.
he finally left the next morning.

it doesn't end there, though. he spent the next 2 years trying to get back with me, despite the fact that i was by now in another relationship.
how did i get rid of him?
easy. i lent him money. i haven't seen the fucker for 6 months.
(, Wed 11 Jun 2008, 2:32, 5 replies)
Tenuously on topic...
A friend who shall remain nameless went for a few drinks one evening in some of the bars around Nottingham heavily frequented by students. To his good fortune, a young lady who was in the same bar displayed a level of attraction to him (Despite his gingerness!) and as the evening went on, it was quite obvious that eventually he was going to be getting his dick wet.

Fast forward a few hours, he leaves but obtains her number for future use. The next day, he calls her and through the usual channels ends up going back to her parents house, at which she still lived, to make the beast with two backs.

Alarm bells went off when he entered her bedroom. Despite stating she was in her early twenties, the decoration was suited to that more of a young child, including cartoon print duvet cover with my little pony on it.

He managed to ignore this, for he was thinking with the brain that truly counts at such a time.

Another shock came when they were undressing each other for the act, and he realised her underwear was suited to a pre-pubescent teen, with my little pony prints on both garments. Classy.

He still managed to look past this and proceeded to the next stage and the act itself, just before the point of no return she reached over to her bedside cabinet and put on some "mood music" in the form of whatever half ass boy band was in the charts at the time.

It was then it seemed to him to be too surreal and wrong to continue, he excused himself and went to the bathroom...

It was here he decided that it was going no-where, but this girl seemed to be incredibly attracted towards him. An exit strategy was needed.

He emptied her hair spray bottle into the sink, replaced the contents with his piss and then went back into the room to make his excuses and leave.

He received a bit of communication from her, until one final text message a few days later stating that he was a filthy cunt and quite plainly was told to never come near her again.

Length? If she was as young as she had seemed, probably a few years.
(, Wed 11 Jun 2008, 2:13, 2 replies)
the c**t puncher
knew him though friends of friends, and thought he was pretty normal. got it on for a few months before i left for university on the other side of the country.

i thought we were both dealing with the distance well, keeping in touch regularly and things.

and then he sent me a link on msn one day, to a woman being punched in her c**t, accompanied by the loving text "this is me and you".

it bloody did the job, i've never broken up with someone so fast.
(, Wed 11 Jun 2008, 0:19, 6 replies)
"Let's be friends"
It just doesn't work like that. Trust me.

If you can take a relationship from 'passionate lovers' to 'matey matey mates', you are a better person than I am.

Ergo, the best way to break up is just that; break up. Avoid contact. If you take a year or so out, you might even end up as friends somewhere down the line.

But you can't go from coupledom to friendship. It doesn't work that way.

*awaits a flaming*
(, Wed 11 Jun 2008, 0:12, 20 replies)
Freedom is sweet
I put off posting this for a bit but hopefully I can do so now without getting into a huffy, angry rant. It's a funny story now, armed as I am with the blessing of hindsight, but at the time I saw no hilarity in the situation.

With someone for a couple of years, blah blah blah, there eventually comes a point when you realize it either works or it doesn't. He refused to get a job ever but expected me to take him out for huge and expensive meals and coerced me into blowing all of my cash on video games, drugs, food, et cetera, and although I'd been trying to save to move out of my father's and get an apartment of my own, my saving's were rapidly depleted. I quickly saw how much he had learned from his family dynamic: his mother cooked and cleaned while his father sat and snapped his fingers for drinks. Relationships are sometimes modeled after the family dynamic and this was a case in point. I saw myself in the future, fat and ugly, a victim of domestic servitude. He did not support my various careers, ideas, habits, et cetera. So I decided it was time.

I wasn't childish, I was diplomatic. I explained why it wasn't working. I told him I needed time to myself, which he never let me have, and time with friends, who he always found a reason to hate and would try to pressure me to hate them too. He had a powerful hold on me, yes, and even did so after we had broken up. You see, I pulled the old "friends" line out of my pocket and actually meant it: I saw a potential for friendship, but he used it to follow me and stalk me. If I was talking to a member of the opposite sex, he'd put his arms around me and loudly suggest we go have sex. When I reminded him calmly that friends do not do that, he would claim that he had forgotten that we had broken up and would ask me when we were getting back together. It was impossible to find freedom. He was always at my house because he was friends with my roommate and would use that as a ruse to paw through my bedroom when I was not there. He knew where I worked and frequented the establishment often, sometimes good-natured and other times raging and screaming, trying to get me fired so I would have no money to support myself and be forced to move back in with him. After months of this I realized there was only one way out: I had sex with his best friend.

Heinous? Really? I didn't mean it. I really didn't. It happened out of the blue but after the fact I realized it was my magical, golden key for escape from his fat, sweaty clutches. When he found out what had happened he accused me of cheating on him and told all of our friends that I had done so, although we'd been broken up for four months by this point!!!! (As a side note, no harm was done to his best friend and he was actually the one who told him what happened, not me. It only worked to my advantage.) Many of my old friends will not talk to me because they think I am a rotten cheat. And I don't care. I know the truth and I'm just happy to be free.
(, Tue 10 Jun 2008, 23:33, 2 replies)
A guy
I used to work with was a little... unsavoury. He was about 50 or so, drank heavily, had a girlfriend whom he had come to hate, and a 9 year old daughter by his ex-wife whom he doted upon.

Ted* decided that he wanted to get rid of his girlfriend, but decided to manipulate the situation so that she moved out and didn't talk to him again.

One horrific day in work he showed us the pictures of the fruition of his cunning plan.

The previous night he had been out to the pub with some friends, leaving his daughter to be babysat by his girlfriend. Ted* had got drunk (as usual) and had come up with the cunning plan to sleep with another woman, and take pictures that he would 'accidentally' leave lying around the house.

Only it didn't work out quite like that.

He ended up in a foursome. With two fat bloated drunken women, and another drunk man.

He took pictures. He showed us. I felt ill. It was like 20 stone of ground beef being mashed up whilst there's a close up of Rolf Harris's mouth eating a banana. In one picture he was shown wearing a thong... a testicle tastefully dangling either side of the skidmarked fabric. That night he was planning on leaving the pics where his girlfriend would find them.

He left shortly afterwards, and I don't know whether he managed to get dumped.
(, Tue 10 Jun 2008, 22:01, 164 replies)
not me, but a friend....
and he wasn't actually trying to get dumped, but the end result was the same.

A few years ago one of my mates was seeing this girl who could be described as 'posh totty'. A couple of months go by, the relationship is going well and so it comes to the time to meet the parents. And so my friend is invited to dinner at her parents house.

Did I say house?

I meant fucking enormous mansion. This was the kind of place with its own cattle grid on the driveway. Servants, butlers, silverware, the works.

Now, my mate is a well dressed, well manered and intelligent young man, the kind of person who just seems to get on with everyone. So dinner with these upper class toffs didnt faze him at all. Even when he arrived and found that it was a full dinner party, with the whole extended family.

Everything was going perfectly throughout the meal. My friend was polite, used the correct cuttlery, didnt fart or belch and was generally charming, and totty's Ma and Pa seemed suitably impressed with her new Beau.

After dinner, the party retired to the Drawing Room for coffee and liqueurs. My mate needed a shit, so he politely excused himself and went off to the loo. After finishing, he flushed the toilet and washed his hands. Just as he was leaving, he noticed that his poo hadn't flushed away and was still floating in the pan. So, he waits for the cistern to fill up and flushes again.

This one's a stubborn bugger.

Now he's starting to panic. He cant flush again, in case they hear it and wonder whats going on. Nor can he just leave it in the pan as that would undo all the hard work he had put in that evening.

So, thinking on his feet, he plucked the offending jobbie out of the pan, and hoyed it out the window. He then washed his hands again, and returned to the Drawing Room.

As he walked into the room, he was met by silent open mouthed stares of astonishment from his girlfriend, her parents, the servants and the rest of the dinner party.

He looked through the room to the conservatory, where he could now see his shit, slowly sliding down the glass roof and off onto the patio below....

Suffice to say, the relationship went no further.
(, Tue 10 Jun 2008, 21:56, 10 replies)
I often wonder...
...if my ex was trying to get dumped the whole 18 months we were together.

We first got together in the summer after I took my A Levels. He was a year older and told me he was taking a couple of years out to earn some money and decide what he wanted to do. At the beginning things were fantastic. He was so laid back I relaxed for the first time in years. We had such a good time together and spent a fair amount of that summer together.

After that, things just got progressively worse. I can't really put my finger on how it started, or even when I realised something was wrong, but my god I wish I'd realised sooner.

He was incredibly possessive, and after 6 months or so I guess you could say that he had alienated all of my real friends. Being blinded by love as I was, I didn't really notice. Which makes me sound terrible but I was head over heels with this guy. He loved being in control, particularly of me. He would pick and choose when he spoke to me, and I'm ashamed to say that I gave him the attention he wanted by chasing him to speak to me.

He told all of his friends private things about me that I had told him. He managed to turn every argument around so that I ended up in tears begging for forgiveness. He would lock me out of his house at 3am after a night out and leave me outside with no way to get home, as all of my things were inside. He would treat me like a naughty child, and on several nights out he ragged on me all night and I eventually was a sobbing wreck, which was my fault and he dragged me out of the club hissing under his breath that I was an embarassment.

He refused to get a job for ages, sponging off me when I was earning minimum wage and saving for uni myself. When he did get a job, he often refused to go in, or went in late. He would claim to be meeting me for lunch and often left me waiting in the bus stop for my whole lunch break. He never turned up.

When I went to uni, he truly snapped. He wouldn't let me out the house some days and others I knew it wasn't worth the hassle to argue, so I'd stay home. One day I couldn't get a response from him and for some reason I rushed home, where he still wouldn't speak to me and then he went to work til midnight, leaving me worrying and panicking all evening. I got a text mid-evening telling me things had changed, he was still the same but I had changed and something had to give. Obviously I spent the whole night worrying.

I'm not a spineless person, I had just been reduced to this quivering, obedient little girl and I was completely at his will. He eventually took to hitting me. Not much at first, but one day he hit me so hard I fell off the bed and hit the cupboard. I actually saw red and hit him back, but he turned that round too so it was my fault and I wa a terrible person for hitting him.

I couldn't see anyone. I tried to go to the cinema one night with the mother of my godson, who he had known for longer than I had, but he kicked up so much of a fuss I didn't get round to going, it was too late after the row he created. The final straw came when I was chatting on the phone to my uni mate and he threw an absolute shitfit and kicked me out of the house.

We split up for a while and then stupidly got back together for a month or so. But it didn't really work. I went round to break up with him for good ad he insisted on one last 'shag'. He 'made love' to me whilst I lay there crying my heart out.

I was so messed up by him and I don't even know why I put up with it. I can be a right gobby so and so when I want to and used to have a fairly firey temper. He took my confidence and my dignity and I have to say I hate him. It's hard to describe the constant depression and lonliness I felt whilst with him, but I swear he must have been trying to get dumped. It's his style, he's a coward of the highest order.
(, Tue 10 Jun 2008, 21:46, 7 replies)
No try about it.
For the rare occasion I did make any progress with the opposite gender, it never lasted long. I either come across as truly pathetic or I seem to attract the wrong sort. Either way, I've been cheated on thrice, lead on twice and given silent treatment once. My 'personal best' for persistance is 3 months (and that was an internet fling as well, so I don't know if that counts).

So now, at the ripe old age of 20, my character traits would include: sarcastic, cynical, intolerant, misanthropic and so on, so you can imagine I'm quite the ladies man... (I like to think I'm actually a nice, fluffy guy deep down, underneath the spines.)

Like I said, no try about it.

Oh, and apologies for lousy metaphors, dodgy grammar and lack of length.
(, Tue 10 Jun 2008, 20:23, 2 replies)

I would guess that someone got dumped after this...
(, Tue 10 Jun 2008, 20:01, 5 replies)

This question is now closed.

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