How to get dumped?
I find turning up for the first date usually works for me.

Honk.

etc.

*retreats into pit of self loathing*
(Rakky (forgot her password) The muffin maverick, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 16:13, 30 replies)

I honestly don't think I've ever tried to dump someone.
I've always been the poor bastard getting dumped.

I once got dumped by an ex on the 65 bus to Kingston. In a melodramatic fit I ran off the bus crying only to be stopped by the closing doors and a bunch of lairy school kids. The following two minutes of jeering were excrutiating.

I remember clearly one kid imaginatively called me a sissy face.
(Errorist, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 16:12, 2 replies)

If you want to do it right
you need a pair of these:


( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 5 Jun 2008, 16:12, 15 replies)

Never
go out with a girl to whom you lose an arm-wrestling contest. Me: a shade under six foot six, her: about five foot five, but built like a tank.

Things seemed to be going well at the start. Although she seemed a little reticent at first with the whole going out thing (given that the town she comes from is very catholic and very conservative) and strictly banned all mention of sex etc. I wasn't even allowed to take my trousers off. Even so I was prepared to tolerate this as at the time I was almost permanently drunk, so little Zapiola wasn't working well at all (we're talking rum for breakfast, vodka for lunch, assorted drinks and marijuana for dinner).

Anna*, however, despite my evident lack of worth as a boyfriend at the time, was really in to me. This was, to say the least, a little scary. At first she was very clingy, she would always sit near me and stop anyone else (especially females) coming near me or talking to me. Even my sister when she came to vist. Annoying, but not critical. However, I first realised things weren't going to plan when a close female friend came to stay. Anna punched her. Hard. Very very hard. There was blood everywhere.

Two days later I finally plucked up the (drunken) courage to dump her. We went to a bar and had the talk. Seemed to go well.

Two days later theres a banging at my front door at 3am. Anna is there, drunk, with a mad gleam in her eye. She literally pinned up against the wall, was coming on to me very heavily, and proceeded to put her hands down my boxershorts and take hold of my special area in a vice like grip.

We stayed like that for 40 minutes, with me on tip toes, with a drunk, insane, hulk hogan like woman in the position to rip off my balls if I displeased her. I don't quite remember how I talked her out of it, but the upshot was that it was clear that I was not allowed to dump her, and she spent the night at mine.

Clearly, my attempt to end the relationship had misfired somewhat. I realised dimly, through the haze of drink and drugs, that not only was I menaced by a girl who was stronger than me, but that the drinking and drug taking weren't helping my underlying fragile mental state. The point at which I realised that the relationship had to end is when I spent 17 hours sat under my desk, in a locked room, with a kitchen knife waiting for 'them' to try and get me.

So, how to do it? I tried again, talking to her. All this elicited was a further bout of hysteria, and her then (unbeknownst to me) stealing a spare key to my house and letting herself in in the early hours of the morning and 'surprising' me in bed. You can, of course, imagine the wonders this did for my sense of paranoia.

So, talking - out. Lets try hiding. I grew a beard. A long, straggly, split-ended, ginger beard (weird because my hair is brown - my mother maintains its because I'm half-Welsh), I stopped washing myself or my clothes. After a fortnight I hummed. I looked like a tramp, with glaring bloodshot eyes, the whiff of BO, vomit, and rum following me around everywhere. Friends were becoming concerned. Anna didn't give a shit.

Luckily, at this point, she had to go back to her home country for a month (something to do with her funding & her sisters wedding). Free from tyranny, I started to clean myself up. The beard was trimmed, clothes were washed, and I enjoyed some semblence of normality. Of course Anna was coming back, but I was sure that she would realise I was desparate to escape from her. Surely.

No. She'd had my name tattooed on her leg. She'd brought back wedding photos, commenting on how she'd like to get married. Clearly, something drastic was in order.

I ran away and hid like a little child. I went to stay with friends in London for a while and ignored all calls and texts. When I got back she was waiting for me at the station. I still don't know which one of my Quisling friends sold me out. We had a talk in the station cafe, and, Gods be praised, she said she wasn't sure if things were working. Given I'd been trying my hardest to make them not work over the past month and a half this was no surprise to me.

So, we had a 'break' as she termed it. Shortly afterwards I met a very nice Jewish girl (did I mention Anna was very catholic and hated Jews?) who I immediately began a short relationship (she was moving abroad shortly afterwards). Crazy Anna seemed to accept that this was the end of our relationship(I think she figured I was now tainted with Jewishness), but still checks up on me now and then (we live about 5 mins walk apart). Even though she's gone off me now (thank god) she is still extremely jealous of the girl I like now, and threatened to kill her.

Meh. Length etc. Tis working now.
(Zapiola zip-zap-zop, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 16:10, 4 replies)

In the process now
Tried everything so far, spare beds, no affection, going to bed early, spending as less time as possible with her etc. But as long as she has money she seems to not give a fuck. All ending soon though. Just going to fuck off.
(robneymcplum spiced up his life on, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 16:04, Reply)

Well
I was going to post a tale about my public transport woes but I'm afraid it never made it on time. According to sources it was delayed due to leaves on the line.



(Gets Coat)
(mon bison powered by magnets, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 16:01, 3 replies)

More of an accident really ...
But I was glad it ended.
I was in the dying breaths of a drawn-out relationship, and naturally ended up drunkenly rutting with a friend. Sadly, I did this sans sheath, and contracted the most virulent strain of chlamydia imaginable. When erect, it looked like a stiffened murder victim. Flaccid, like a sulking clitoris with hayfever.
I gritted my teeth and hoped it would go away, and successfully abstained from nude tomfoolery with my gf for about three days. Finally, again after lots of booze, I allowed her to de-trouser me, hoping a quick gobble would pass without incident. Of course, it did not. As soon as my pants slipped off there was no mistaking that a lot was amiss. My stinking, suppurating womb ferret popped out, angry tumescent foreskin glistening with what looked like ghee and smelled like Grimsby. We were only young, but a woman instinctively knows a wrong-cock when she sees one. Bit like with wasps. They just scream ‘danger’.
The whole sorry story spilled out and we were done. Unfortunately she told a not inconsiderable number of friends, and being in a small town, I soon became known as ‘the one with Aids’ (god bless Chinese whispers) and didn’t get any poontang again til I went to Uni.
( Wet-chinned bag shanker Cannot parse Wogan, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 15:55, 7 replies)

Phone calls and Internet
The first was after an enjoyable evening of extremely nice snogging. Unfortunately the other person then went back to their home in London (this is a theme: everyone I like lives sodding miles away, and I refuse to do LDR(*))

They decide this will never work out. They are also a bit mad (this is also a theme, sadly). They proceed to tell me this for *2 fucking hours*. Next time, I'm agreeing after 10 minutes and hanging up..

The second was mad online lady. At first glance she seemed ok, then she started to be possessive asking who I'd been out with *ding*.

Then she really wanted me to ask her out but couldn't work up the courage to ask herself *ding ding*

Then she wanted to go out, but it had to be Saturday *ding ding ding*
Because she didn't go out in the week *ding ding ding ding*
..and had no-one else to go out with on Saturday *ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding*
and she really wouldn't make any half decent compromise *diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing CLANG*

So I said no, even though she practically offered me sex. It just wasn't worth it.

A couple of weeks later she claimed to have been out with a guy and he'd come back to hers. I hoped she'd had fun and enjoyed herself. This, of course, was not the right answer because I'm sure the guy had never existed.

Fortunately she slowly disappeared, which is more than I can say about Mad Bondage Woman, who still tries to say hullo every six months - It's been going on for *years*.

(*) Or parents, smokers, drug users, dog owners, tories,pokemon players,poly people,submissives,dommes, people that dislike bi men, people that insist on playing hard to get or wanting the other person to jump to their needs, and people that just want FWB. Yes, I am still single. Wonder why? There must be *someone* nice somewhere in the North West
(EssY, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 15:47, 6 replies)

Hiss
The best way to dump someone is to say it with flowers.

Send them a Triffid.
(mon bison powered by magnets, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 15:39, 4 replies)

The tale of Kaol, the giant newts and stairs.
Here we go again...
I was going out with a young lady a couple of years ago. That was a mistake, as I was going through a very rough patch (*waits for the "I had a mental breakdown, LOL!" QOTW*).

It turned out that she wasn't doing my state of mind any favors, and it became clear that I needed to end things.
Problem was that I was living with her.

As I've said in previous posts, I keep, and have kept various animals. At the time I had a lizard, and nothing else.
She hated my lizard, but knew how much it meant to me, so just about put up with me keeping it.
She did, however, have a gigantic phobia of animals that live in water. I'd had to give away my fish to a friend.

I decided that the only course of action open to me, obviously*, was to buy as many giant-newt-like creatures as I could.

So, I wandered off to the exotic pet shop where I worked, and got myself five Axolotls, and the set up to keep them in.

When she came home, she found me sitting cross-legged on the floor, chatting merrily away to them. Taking one look at them, she started crying, and locked herself in the bathroom, saying she wouldn't come out until they'd gone.

I went to bed for a few hours.

*wavey lines*

A couple of weeks later, I'd got much worse (not too many details, this isn't meant to be a heart-warming story), and had been drinking far too much, and other self-destructive behaviour.
We ended up having a huge arguement.
Well, more like I ended up not saying anything for an hour while I had my short-comings pointed out.
In the end I snapped, and said that I'd rather throw myself down the stairs than be with her anymore.
As you do... *rolls eyes*

She said "Go on then".

So I did.
It really hurt.

She broke up with me then and there.
And I went on to become the happy, grinning young man that I am today.

Well done if you made it to the end of that.


*May not be obvious if you're in full control of your head.


If you're interested:
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Axolotl
( Cawl, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 15:38, 38 replies)

Right then, time to admit to being a complete and utter cunt.
Once, I was so tired of the relationship I was in. Really tired - she was far too immature at times, was boring to talk to and the sex wasn't brilliant.

Despite the fact I lived in Newcastle and she lived 200 miles South didn't seem to put a strain on the relationship at all. She phoned me at 2am to talk about recent films that she'd seen.

I tried having "the talk", but she never seemed to accept that I was trying to break up with her.

You know what I did? The single most cuntish thing I've ever done in my life.

I hacked into her Facebook and set her status to "single".

Next time she phoned me, I acted like I was pissed off that she did this without telling me first, and "if she wanted to end the relationship, she could have warned me first". This led to her being very confused, saying that she didn't do this act, which got me to pretend to be even more pissed off.

So that's how you dump a girl who won't stay dumped. Just confuse the fuck out of her.
(__, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 15:37, 7 replies)

Sometimes being nice is just wrong.
By and large I believe I'm a good person not prone to upsetting folks.

If anything I'm fairly argument averse.

And so it was with my first wife, however...........

After four years it became fairly apparent to myself that enough was enough.

Things weren't right and so I started sleeping in the spare room.

No great shakes, no fights or abuse, no girls on the side, basically I just move out of the marital bed.

Well after about three months of this it became apparent (even to her) that I'd had enough and it was time to move on.

So again being the good chap that I can be we went around the house together and split the furniture along the lines of one to you one to me, all very civilized.

She received a cheque for £11.5K for the equity on the house and a further £3.5K for the extra "stuff" that I was keeping and I paid her car off as well (these were 1991 £ btw)....

She went and bought a new house fairly close by, which I then helped her decorate (I had my own key), (and no I wasn't knocking her off as we had parted and it wouldn't have right)..

This went on for around another ten months when Christmas and the party season came around.

Until this point I'd been a "very" good boy however having lasted over 12 months I needed a little girl time in a big way and happily accepted an invitation to a night out with a pretty young thing who promised much with her winks and smiles.

So naively I thought I'd tell the ex that I was going to a night out rather than have her find out from a third party, as up until then I'd been open and honest (read thick).

This did not go down well as by mid Feb i was paying £50 per week alimony to my ex who had her own house/job/car and no kids.

She also raided my pension for a further £2k lump sum (ground breaking stuff back in the early 90's).

So in being nice and trying to move on in a good way I was royally shafted.

However there was no effort in getting her to take the hint about staying dumped.

She was happy to be paid £50 pw for a year for the privilege........

Apologies for lack of mirth, but hey it turned out to be some of the best money i ever spent.
(Dark Matter All The Wonders In The World & We Invent Boredom, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 15:35, 2 replies)

Tunisia
To get a good deal, I had booked a holiday to Tunisia with my then girlfriend almost 4 months in advance. A lot can happen in 4 months, like realising your girlfriend is a complete twat. The money had been paid so I thought I may as well delay the inevitable breakup until after we got back.

I have to be the only westerner who has been on holiday to an arab land and not been offered any camels in exchange for my woman. Not one sodding camel. Camels are bad tempered, stubborn, smelly, funny looking and have generally been ridden by too many men. I guess it would have been a "like for like" swap.

What was the question again?
( Colonel Dracula Two manky hookers and a racist dwarf, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 15:34, Reply)

The shittiest feeling in the world.
Knowing someone slept with you when they were in the process of dumping you and didn't want to sleep with you in the first place.

I never want to feel that again.
( girlinthehole, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 15:31, 11 replies)

Well, not really a dumping...
We lay there, in the bed. The sunlight was just creeping through the curtains, and she lay there, staring at me.

"I'm sorry for everything that happened, I really am. I never meant to say the things I did, and I'd really like to make it up to you. I've been thinking things over all night, and I think I've come to a decision. I just really want to know what you're thinking. Please, just tell me."

I stared back at her, the one woman I knew who was foolish enough to let me sleep with her, but one who'd tried to ruin my life afterwards. Here it was, the carrot of reconciliation being hung in front of my nose, and all I had to do to get a bolt-on shag was to say something romantic.

I cleared my throat, breathed in, and said those words that every woman longs to hear.

"I'm just wondering if Matteo will be fit enough to start today. Our defence has been pretty shaky without him."

I had to fish my jeans out of a bush, and I never did get the shoe that she threw at my face back.
(Psycorp603, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 15:29, 10 replies)

Never
I have never dumped a woman. Oh, yes I have. I'd forgotten about that one.

We had been drifting apart for ages and had agreed to some time apart (I knew she’d been cheating anyway) and one night when we were at night class together I decided I’d had enough. I told her I was sick of her mind games and it was over. I didn’t want anything more to do with her. No subtlety., I just wanted her gone. After the class had finished she followed me out and as we went down stairs started screaming, wailing (I’d never heard a real wail before, it’s slightly unnerving), shaking and eventually collapsed in a heap hugging my ankles. I managed to free myself but not before her new found (10 seconds) friends had called me a heartless bastard and asked how could I leave her like this? Not having the heart to say “She’s alive which is more than she deserves.” (I didn’t mean it but felt it sincerely). I kept quiet and left.

My new girlfriend gave me a lift home and we rutted like it was Autumn on Exmoor.
(porkylips looks better as the sun goes down., Thu 5 Jun 2008, 15:25, Reply)

A long time ago...
How we met is a foggy memory, fractured pieces that never quite add up to a whole, shifting perceptions of how long ago it was and where it happened. What I do remember, the piercing single aspect of clarity is that it was dark and the shadows didn't quite sit right.

At first it was amazing, we would stay up for hours talking about how we would right the world. We would go to the middle of nowhere and eradicate the isolation of the outside world by being completely enveloped with each other. We would curl up on the sofa and drink beers watching awful films because neither of us wanted to move for fear of spoiling the feeling of utter content of lying in each others arms.

Time passed, as it is so fond of doing, and the colourful aspects of our relationship faded into washed out shades of grey.

Silent creepers twisted their way around the conversation until it became choked and strained. Contact dwindled off until a mere brush of him against me sent cold shivers running through my body. The vultures were circling the relationship, waiting for it to finally admit defeat and lay down to die so they may feast upon the shattered remains of happier times.

For some reason neither of us wanted to raise the subject of going our separate ways. Maybe it was a refusal to separate from the physical reminder of the happier times, or maybe a simpler act of denial praying that the bleakness should be magically erased and things would be restored to how they once were.

Having a smoke on the patio one warm evening I noticed the curling smoke seemed to be darker than before, that the warm breeze had been chased off by a chill in the air that danced down my spine. Sensing a presence behind me I turned to see the answer to all my problems.

A couple of weeks later I watched as my, now official, ex walked slowly, crying whilst escorted to the van by the two sturdy men beside him. The relief that washed over me was enough to erase the shades of grey and to forget the nights of screaming and paranoia, the cries that there were ghosts taunting him, the belief that things were crawling under his skin, the tests for narcotics, the plans to build a secret underground bunker to be protected against "them", the turn against me and my allegiance to "them".

His last words to me were the sweetest ones I had heard in a long time, "You're with them - it's not going to work out". I had to sell my soul to get them. But it was worth it.
( TGB checking Off Topic is still shit at, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 15:21, 4 replies)

For Those About To Dump, We Salute You. Or Shoot You.
General Etiquette Time.

Dumping someone by letter (yes, I am that old) has a certain style, and gives the dumpee something to (a) sob bitterly over until it becomes a soggy mass well on it's way to under-the-pillow-papier-mache, (b) rip dramatically in two or (c) use for knife-throwing practice while laughing insanely.

Doing the deed by phone has an immediacy level higher than Snail Mail, luckily the old style phones (you know kids, the ones with those funny curly wurly thingies) could take a fair old hammering when thrown violently at the cat, and nothing is better than screaming "YOU FUCKING SOUL-STEALING WHORE BITCH FROM HELL" down the line.

(Except discharging an air horn down the phone and causing their eardrum to rupture in a shower of claret, leading to months of pain, vertigo and tinnitus. Laugh that one off, slag-features.)(I was bitter, but I'm over that now)

Leaving modern communications devices aside, it's time for the face to face bit. Oooooohhyeah.

Naturally a Gentleman would never dream of, f'rinstance, knobbing his way around a few friends and acqaintances while still 'in' a 'relationship', and would under no circumstances blatantly import a fresh female into his abode while living in the same building as his current snake with tits. Sorry, partner.*

He'd just say something along the lines of......(insert cliche here).....which translates to "Piss Off Love, Ta for the shags and that but the thought of me hooking up with you for one more minute makes my gag-reflex tie me into a pretzel of hate, my throttling-hands itch, and that cliff look inviting, but we can still be friends as you might be up for a quickie or two later on"

Simplicity itself.

Now a female of the species** apparently...

(and to keep the statistics nerds happy, this is a small sample group of one as I have only contemplated sharing my existence on this planet with ONE soul-destroying slag-bitch from the deepest pit of Lucifer's Domain*** [with nice tits] so far)

...when faced with the same predicament, will take the labour-intensive route mentioned above of not only humping her way through friends and acquaintances, but blatantly doing so in a shared building.

(Large people were called. Fixtures were damaged in a noisy fashion. I was a bit cross.)

Sheesh, all that time and effort wasted.

Giving me thrush was the mark of a truly dedicated chucker, giving it that extra 10% Enjoy your four fucking gold stars.*****


I've only ever dumped one person. Admittedly it was into the Manchester Ship Canal, but minor little details like that should not sully one's reputation.

All this text, email and a strange thing called Facebook are far too modern for the likes of me.

I'll be moodily looking through some old photos, staring across 18 years through the bottom of my glass to a time when we did things properly.

Facebook? Ptooie.





* I am not bitter and do not have issues.
**(Now known as fucking heart-breaking, life-destroying, lying mad bitch from the town of Bitchville, Bitchshire, UK.)****
*** I do not have issues
**** I do not have issues
****** I do have a bit of an itch now
(osok Rebel without a clue, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 15:21, 5 replies)

Fisting Pringles
Lets get straight to the point:

1: He was 26 and a virgin.

2: Within two weeks of going out we were in a pub and my then boyfriend started fisting a pringles tube, making 'noises' proclaiming that was me and my ex-boyfriend. This was never going to work.

3: 8 months later I break up with him because he had created an account on a social networking site and pretended to be a woman to seduce my ex.

4: He then proposes to me on the phone on my 19th birthday (complete with engagement ring photo message).

5: He rings me up crying and asking for his virginity back.

I wasn't that bad was I? ;)
(Fiz, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 15:20, 1 reply)

You know...
Many of you that have read my posts (all four of you) know that, not only did I serve in the Marine Corps, you also know that I once worked, on Wall Street for the Mob.

Perhaps there is a service that I should make available to posters like Darras whereas I will marshall forces (in Darras case, a former female Marine) to do the deed FOR them.

Anyone have any suggestions on pricing?

Cheers,

Citadel
( Citadel Because the world needs less morons, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 15:20, 7 replies)

Here's a question for you clever people
How the hell does one get one's boyfriend to dump his 'friendship' with his crazy psycho ex?

Damnit! It's been a year and a half of her trying her vindictive little damnably subtle (so said boyfriend of mine doesn't notice and therefore thinks I'm paranoid) games to cause dissension in our otherwise blissfully happy engagement! I'm freakin sick of it. If I didn't care about public appearances I'd go beat her bloody while screaming at her to fuck off back into her dark little hole.. But still. I'm too nice/cowardly for that.

Of course my main problem is that she is my future brother in law's girlfriend's best friend (complex!). And also the godmother of my boyfriend's niece. So she's never going to go away entirely. I'd just quite like it if she'd move somewhere like Australia and then I'd rarely have to see her little piggy face. Which would make me very happy..

So, any suggestions??
(darras jeg har en grevling i hodet. Grevling, grevlang, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 15:05, 33 replies)

Not
me but a friend from University, who started going out with a German girl. After a while he realised things weren't going well but being scared of her didnt' want to end it himself. So, in a display of amazing drunken logic, he decided the best way to get dumped was to go to her house and piss through the letter box whilst singing Deutschland Uber Alles.

Several problems with this:
1. She was in Germany at the time.
2. He was so drunk he managed to piss all over himself.
3. He got the wrong house.
4. He thought the police were chasing him afterwards and jumped over a wall breaking his wrist.

Idiot.
(Zapiola zip-zap-zop, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 14:59, 1 reply)

Oh dear...
...either I am very efficient at ending things, or the men with whom I finish don't really mind.

But when I was working in a large supermarket during my A'Level days, I was having it away with the assistant manager, and when the time came to put an end to it all, he was very mournful and pestered me for ages to reconsider.

So I started shagging the butcher instead. It was the kindest thing to do, under the circumstances.

Mmm...fresh meat.
( thealternativefact, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 14:58, Reply)

Abandon Ship....
NYE 2005 and I was at the party of my then squeeze. Twas a fancy dress party to which I deigned to go as a pirate (ARRRRH). The squeeze was dressed as Penfold, although I often muse as to whether a costume was strictly necessary as the resemblance he bore to Penfold was uncanny.

Anyway, for a little while now I had suspected that his attentions weren't entirely focused on me and this was something of a problem which needed addressing, but perhaps not on NYE....

The night started quite well, the beer and wine was flowing, people dancing and I was well on the way to feeling quite merry, that is until I got involved with a small bottle of Smirnoff vodka, going from merry to scuttered in about 20 mins.

I felt great, invincible even, dancing, flirting, spanking Che Guevara with my cutlass, then I went a bit too far...Snatching a bottle of champagne from his parents and swigging like a true pirate (YARRRRRR).

Penfold saw fit to tell me off for my behaviour and in hindsight was well within his rights, sadly this was like a red rag to a bull, or a mutiny on the bounty. I stomped upstairs to his bedroom and sat sulking on the bed in the dark...A strange glow emanated from the bedside table....It was his phone, I was powerless to stop myself, I looked (I'm ashamed) I can't believe I did it BUT I was right he HAD been focusing his attentions elsewhere.

Right then the red mists descended, I stood up, slowly walked downstairs sweetly asked him to come outside because I had something to say to him...We stepped outside the front door and into his garden, he removed his Penfold head and tucked it under his arm and between gritted teeth I told him that I knew he'd been seeing someone else, which he denied. Then This happened:

I, GirlOfTheWorld, drew my (plastic) cutlass and punctuated every word of the following with a blow to the head.

"DO. NOT. FUCKING. LIE. TO. ME. YOU. PATHETIC. LITTLE. CUNT. HOW. FUCKING. DARE. YOU."

If my friends, a woodland fairy and Magda from The Rocky Horror Show hadn't come out and stopped me, I think he would have been in the ground like a giant, furry, unfaithful tent peg.

Length? I was scorned so it was tiny of course.
(GirlOfTheWorld, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 14:51, 7 replies)

sure fire way to get dumped.
if one wants to realise one's ambition of becoming a dumpee and promoting the dumper side of their other half here are some helpful hints and tips to try out.

1 - gently introduce her to the concept of fisting, gently working up from 2-3-4 fingers loosen her until she can accept your fingers in a swan like shape. You should eventually be able to loosen her to accept a jolly good fisting, all the better if you can do front and back bottom. If you feel the relationship really isn't working out try smothering your hands in chilli powder prior to giving her a right good fisting, she may go off you somewhat after this.
2 - If helpful hint 1 doesn't work, you can try super gluing her eyes shut, much hilarity will ensue as she stumbles around bumping into things. Extra kudos if you can carry out this procedure on a busy traffic island and leave her to it.
3 - vomit in her chuff
4 - try to wash aforementioned vomit off with a stream of fresh warm urine

if all of the above fails to get the hint across to her, and she really isn't going to take the hint return her to the animal shelter from whence she came and explain to the volunteers how things just haven't worked out, how you would have loved to grow old together and how it has always been your dream to marry a tabby cat and have kiddens with them before relocating to a small shed with a bicuspid arch on the edge of a river in the hazy heat of a summers day.
fuck it stick it on the barbecue and watch it sizzle before fruhstuck.

what?
(little lord muthafuckin fauntleroy, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 14:45, 3 replies)

Not dumping, but I suspect I may have to have The Talk with a man who is not Mr Maladicta sometime soon.
Until a week and a half or so ago, I was waiting for a QOTW to come up where it would be relevant that I thought I'd acquired Stalker Boy II: Son of Stalker Boy, but in addition to taking Legless' comments about not becoming a one-trick pony on board, the situation has - for the moment - abated.

The man in question is one who for the moment we shall call Steve, for it is not his name. He is a mutual friend of mine and a few people from my uni course (and sadly also Stalker Girl). He is 22 and chronically inexperienced with ladies, to the point of having not had any sexytime ever*. While I sympathise with this, I do resent his assertions, usually via MSN, that he is better than anyone's boyfriend - particularly Mr Maladicta - and would do a much better job. I have reminded him on numerous occasions that I am with someone who makes me feel fluffeh and who I would not leave for anyone else, not just because I'm happy, but out of principle, too.

Therefore, I do not appreciate his frequent comments regarding my desire to stay in Canterbury as focusing around his offer for me to "fall in love with me and share my bed", referring to me as "just the hobbit I was looking for", my "little friend" and "sorry babe but your boyfriend's a cock and I am prettier than him". Nor do I appreciate being asked to read his favouritest love poems as well as the ones he writes himself, and generally making it apparent that he wants a piece of me "can't stay and chat to you babe you're proving far too sexy a distraction". And nothing I do will stop him flirting with me or reminding me the offer of his bed is still open, so short of setting Mr Maladicta on him, which I'm not keen to do, I will be watching this QOTW like a hawk for the most unappealing qualities I can acquire.

*goes back into hiding*

* Although I distinctly remember him turning down Stalker Girl's advances in a bar in our second year, so he's a weirdo, but a discerning weirdo.
( Maladicta, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 14:41, 23 replies)

Could I have been any more subtle?
Back in the days of yore (2005) I was entangled, nay, entrapped in a relationship that had jumped the shark a long time before and had degenerated into the sex-mindgames-pregnancyscare-sex cycle (we've all been there, my favourite bit was the mindgames)

Anyway, I was 17 and this beast* had been dragging on for 2 years by this point. My parents were away for the weekend (well my Mum was, my Dad lived in Ripon so he mattered fuck all.) I decided to have a party. I duly incited the girlf, her friends, my wierd-geeky-hairy-mosher-stoner mates and jenny.

The girlf hated jenny with a passion, due to some wierd female reason (I'd slept with her).

So the party goes as all teenage pishfests go. People get drunk. Two of my mates (Sumo and Phil) decide to steal all of my neighbours solar powered garden lamps and leave me a solar powered message in the back garden. (Also what is the point in solar powered lights? surely if it is bright enough to power them then you dont fucking need them!)

Oh yes, jenny had decided to take a handful of aspirin and drink a bottle of wine. Obviously, I panicked and helped her up to my bedroom and into bed so she didnt vomit or explode or something. All in all that took about an hour. I then finally arrive back at the main party event and catch up with my drinking.

People ask where I've been, so I explain, loudly, with gestures (and sniggering).

Girlf does nothing.

I (accidentally, I swear to you!) call the girlf jenny (twice).

Girlf does nothing.

A bit later jenny appears downstairs again, a bit shaky from the drink but ok. I decide to check her pupils (I'm not sure why, maybe she could have developed superpowers? Or her eyeballs had fallen out) I then give her a hug and, by drunken reflex, kiss her.

Girlf does nothing, but now she looks ANGRY!

I was scared**, really scared. The entire room had turned around to stare so there were no chances no one else had seen.

I stutter profusely and decide to grab some beer and hide in the garden. 5 minutes and 6 beers later i decide to come back in. Everyone is still there and having a good time, even the girlf. I was confused but stoically carried on.

Anyway, the party winds down and people start to leave. Last of all is the girlf, she looks me right in the eye (john wayne stylee) and says...

"Bye"

"Hmm," I start to think, "maybe I imagined the kiss?" Anyway, I begin the post party clean up (I was a bit of an insomniac,) get all the cans together in a bag and take them out to the recycling tub at the end of the graden.

I'm walking back up the garden when WHACK, the girlf steps out of the shadows beside the house and kicks me in the knackers.

"MWAHAHA! NOW CALL ME A TAXI, COCKBITCH!"

So I did.

We eventually broke up a month later over speakerphone at my stepsisters 21st.

Also SHE HAD NO NIPPLES! It was wierd...


*her nickname
**she had her nickname for a reason!
(big king bob Lord of the Ska, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 14:36, 4 replies)

I broke up with the dole office.
It wasn't working.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Thu 5 Jun 2008, 14:34, Reply)

Christ, another one where I have no good answers.
I've only dumped a small handful of women- three that I can think of offhand- and in each case I tried to do so as gently as I could, including my divorce. And I've never tried to get them to dump me- if it wasn't working out we discussed it calmly and gently, and went our separate ways.

I gotta start being more of a bastard, I guess.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 5 Jun 2008, 14:27, 6 replies)