Heh, the one below reminds me of somebody
An autistic guy who honestly thought I was his girlfriend. I was living with him and tried to tell him different all the time. I had nowhere else to go else I'd have moved out.

Anyway, he kept telling everybody I was his girlfriend, and nobody believed him. I got talking to his friend, and we got really close. Not sure how it happened, but still. Ended up the 'boyfriend' going to the pub so we could have some 'time' together.
The guy came back from the pub with not too much time to spare, and he just sat there, totally and utterly refused to believe we were together. His mate AND me just told him, and he stormed out. He later punched me and split my lip wide open.

I went to my home town to visit some mates (him still believing we were together) and I ended up staying in my home town, my mate's mum and my mate telling me not to go back there for my own sake.

He came up to visit (god knows why), got shouted at by my mate and best mate, and then got informed by my male mate that I was with him now. Was funny as fuck (he's gay) but it worked.

YAY me!
( Methylene Blue - electrohead, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 19:30, Reply)

I forgot about this one
When I was younger, my boyfriend Peter was the clingy type. Really really clingy. He'd be there every time I got up to get a drink, get a snack, even following me to the toilet on more than one occaision.

Understandably this started to wear on my nerves a bit, especially when I found out that the far better looking Shaun liked me. He could string a sentence together and everything so woot for him.

Peter became jealous of our burgeoning friendship and even tried to make me not speak to Shaun after one particularly nasty argument. I refused and told him I didn't want to see him (Peter that is) anymore. He refused to acknowledge this and kept insisting I was his girlfriend over and over until I started crying.

I tried everything, bribing him with tasty food stuffs, getting my hot best friend Jessica to pretend she was interested in him to no avail. Eventually I sat down next to him and pissed my pants in the sandbox.

His reasoning for dumping me...He couldn't be with someone so mean and nasty and waaaaaaaah.

Length...about four years old.
( fuck shit up the best you never had, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 19:06, 2 replies)

How to get dumped.
While ruminating on this one, I realized the answer is actually very simple:

Say you've converted to Islam.

And then insist she's got to wear one of them Niquabs when she goes out, defer to you in public, refrain from talking to other men and pray four times a day while facing east.

And also insist you're going to grow a big bushy beard and that she's only to go and see female doctors, and say that neither if you can ever drink alcohol again.

Oh, and tell her you're changing your name to Muhhamad Idn Yusef bin binglybong, or something similar, and suggest she do the same.

No offence to Muslims or anything - lovely chaps, all of 'em - but that's easily the best way to get the old heave ho around here.

The only problem is if she agrees.....
(El Fandango carved a big EF onto his nemesis' doublet on .., Mon 9 Jun 2008, 17:48, 3 replies)

Booze and cycling lead to re-dumping
This is slightly off topic... I'll keep it short and sweet.

I had been at a mate's leaving do in town and had probably drunk around 8 pints. logically therefore a relaxing cycle home was clearly a great idea. Needless to say I fell off my bike and smashed my elbow up.

Being significantly more than half cut, I decided to get back on my bike again and promptly hit another kerb and scraped half my face off. Still miles away from home I had to keep cycling. So drunk was I that I thought I'd ring my girlfriend for some sympathy (at about 2am, on a school night)...whilst cycling.

The conversation was brief and shouty, I'd completely forgotten she'd dumped me the week before. I think I fell off again shortly after. We didn't speak again.
(theswollenbeef where there's a will there's a wank, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 16:55, 3 replies)

Advice for girls...
If you want to dump him buy a gimp mask and a massive strap on, show them to him and say 'if you like anal so much...'
(Tugnut Ex of this parish, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 16:47, 16 replies)

Just say no to the dumper - confuses the hell out of them...
The time I have done it to someone was during a row with my then fiancee. She had gotten a bit drunk, seen an innocent conversation with a friend as an attempt to pull someone else, then gone mental. I was rather stoned and when she said "that's it! It's all over - I hate you and never want to see you again", I replied with "No it's not. It's not over, because there's no need for you to be in this state. You've got the wrong end of the stick and you don't want to ruin things and kick yourself when you're seeing things clearly."

She huffed off and passed out on the bed. We got married in December. It's a really useful tool to keep a realtionship alive, because if you say it calmly and reasonably, there's not any really easy comeback that can be flung in the heat of a screaming tantrum - the only thing I can think of that might be as successful at derailing a dumping (which are usually brought about by a girl getting her knickers in a twist and then asking her female friends about how men think - like they know) would be to randomly quote facts:

"I hate you, you don't do anything for me and my friends say I'm crazy to be with you"

"If you take the atomic weight of a molecule and measure out that number of grams of the substance, there will be 1x10^23 Molecules of the substance in it"

"Huh? But anyway, as I was saying - I don't think it's working out..."

"Carrots should really be blue."

"For a while now I've... hang on, BLUE?!"

"Yeah, it's down to the pigments in the carrot, but the most common one reflects blue/green light, so they should appear blue".

Give it a try - after all, at that point it's got to be worth a punt!

Oh, by the way ladies, your female friends don't understand men. Men maybe understand men, women possibly understand women. You credit us with far too much depth of emotion - your female friends will tell you that your chap has done something out of malice, or a convulted plot to damage your self esteem or to derail your plans for the wedding you started planning two weeks after you met him. It's all bollocks.

The truth is, he is genuinely unaware of half the crap you think he's done on purpose and only vaguely aware of the ramification of things he's tried to do for you. Any man who tells you he understands exactly how you feel is either a) Gay or, b) a Liar. We don't understand you - how can we, when you can bleed for a week each month and not die - we cut our finger and want a bandage and a trip to A&E. We love you dearly, but we don't understand you. In the same way, don't attribute female thought processes to a species that will still laugh at it's own flatulence if left in same-sex company and, it has to be said, even go so far as to call other members of the species into the room to witness a particularly fine bouquet... We're nowhere near as complex as you give us credit. After all, when was the last time you saw a man run out of a room crying, floowed by a woman shouting "What? What have I done now?", with a confused look on their face. Reverse the genders and you've got pretty much every couple on the planet at least once... Vive la Difference!
(Chad, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 16:27, 14 replies)

Hmmm
This is a difficult one. I mean, I've never had a difficult breakup before, the feeling was generally mutual.

I do, on occasion, feel like I should end it with the current missus though. It's difficult: when I'm with her it's (usually) great and I'm happy to be with her, but if I'm at home and we arrange to meet I'm nearly always dreading it. I don't know why realy, other than often thinking I'd rather spend time with my other friends. I always have to go to hers, she never comes here unless she wants to surprise me, and I always HATE those moments because I then have to drop whatever I'm doing (even something as pointless as playing a computer game) and go do something with her.

Five minutes later I'll be fine though. It's just that initial drop in my spirits I don't like. Am I just lazy?

She is clingy, but that only bothers me because she gets jealous that I can go out with my friends without her and *shock**horror* actually have fun. I'm at her place virtually every night and we do a lot of stuff together, but it just doesn't seem to be enough. Yes, I have said the L-word, but to be honest I'm still not entirely sure on that issue. She certainly is though. Very.

It's all made harder by the fact that she's forrin and has only just moved to (my town) less than a year ago, and I was one of the first people she met and actually got on with. I've helped her a lot with all sorts of beaurocratic crapola that she'd have had difficulty doing alone, and I just think she's very attached to me.

I seriously don't want to hurt her and actually don't want to split up, but maybe someone's got an explanation for that sinking feeling I get when she calls? Where does that come from? Why doesn't it elate me to see her name on my phone? We get on great and if she could understand english humour properly shed probs be a b3tan, but frankly I can't see it lasting forever like she seems to think it will.

She's also a hell of a knock-out, I'm impressed with myself. But it's not the only reason we went out. No really.

Length? I've had no complaints so far, and it's been six months!
( morrybyte made a subtle namechange at, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 15:58, 16 replies)

Spiderman (aka Nudity Through the Frosted Window)
(Warning: somewhat off topic)

This happened to a friend of mine a few years back, and I think Bearded Whumpus will be all too happy to verify it, since he relayed it to me in the first place.

Said friend was seeing this feller who was a little odd, to put it politely. One evening, after a few beverages of a potentially intoxicating nature, they went back to the hall of residence where she was living at the time.

Apparently he'd had quite a few of these beverages by this stage.

She went to the toilet - just down the corridor, she wouldn't be long. Now the door to this particular water closet had a window above it with a frosted glass pane. For some reason, her boyfriend decided it would be a good idea to surprise her by climbing up to the top of this door and waving at her through the glass pane. While she was on the loo.

Oh, and he decided the best way to accomplish this was to take all his clothes off first.

It's fortunate that nobody came out into the corridor whilst 'Spiderman' was attempting to climb up the door completely starkers, but our friend was, understandably, scared out of her wits by the sight of a drunken, naked, Welsh man leering in the frosted window at her, even if it was her boyfriend.

It's off topic because he wasn't doing this to get dumped. Nor did she dump him for this peculiar act. I don't know which is more remarkable.
(LongJohnBaldry, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 15:52, 2 replies)

So Hard....
At the tender age of 16, I found myself in a rather serious relationship with a friend of a friends who, at that point, was the year above me in school. Said person (Mortlock by name), had a car (well.. he said it was a car...) and used to drive me home after evenings out to the cinema, the pub etc. More often than not these eveings ended up in a blazing argument outside my house, resulting in me being told that if I got out of the car I'd be dumped. At which point I got out of the car. Which, oddly, never worked.

Skip forward to 11 months into the relationship. A friend of mine was having a house party to celebrate her birthday. Many of my friends from school were invited, including a good friend of mine who I had a bit of a thing with around my GCSE's and had recently come out of the closet. As per ususal with house parties, the drink flowed thick and fast, I got more than a little tipsy and me and said friend ended up making out twice. The second time, unfortunately, Mortlock walked in and decked said friend. I told him there and then he was dumped. He cried, screamed and drove home drunk at 3am, only to come back 6 hours later and tell me he'd forgiven me and that he still loved me.

Skip forward another 2 months of suspicion and jealousy to his birthday/going to Uni party at a local pub. Again, the drink flowed and he was soon drunk. I, wisely, remained sober. A friend and I had arranged to meet another friend just up the road as she didn't know where the pub. I made it known where I was going and off I went. Ten seconds later, Mortlock comes pounding down the road after me, blind drunk, and starts shouting and pushing me. Cue intervention of passing police officer, after which he accuses me of calling the police on him. I tell him he's dumped, at this point my friends and I decide to go back to theirs.

He spent all night calling me and both the friends I was with and turned up outside my house the next day. I gave him back the stuff he'd left there and told him once and for all it was over.

13 months to the day after we started going out...Apparently it was my loss.
(TuftyBee should have been working on, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 14:32, 10 replies)

I performed
the Angry Pirate. Dumping followed swiftly after.
( Kroney, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 14:29, 18 replies)

I got dumped by accident
by staying home and looking after the kids while she ran off to live with her boyfriend.

I think it was my continual cleaning, ironing and tidying up that must have hurt, as well as the gardening, decorating and general housework.

Perhaps my cooking was so truly awful.

Who knows?
( Dangermouse., Mon 9 Jun 2008, 14:08, 4 replies)

This is so far off topic it's not even on the same planet
for which I offer humble apologies.

However, I saw this and thought of the "fluffeh kitten lovin' QOTW crowd" and couldn't resist posting the link.

Yes, I know there's a Links board but I'm scared of strangers! Please don't beat me up ...

news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/scotland/edinburgh_and_east/7443934.stm

Although a picture of the event would have been even better ....

EDIT: Here's a link with the baby kitten

edinburghnews.scotsman.com/topstories/Firefighters-use-Hoover-to-suck.4164824.jp

although the "firefighters use Hoover to suck" is a little unfortunate...
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Mon 9 Jun 2008, 14:02, 40 replies)

Works every time.....
I just suggested he might actually make a financial contribution. I think it worked.
(misspiggy In danger of having to get a job, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 13:48, Reply)

"I think I'm pregnant"
Worked every time so far, I know it wouldn't get current boyfriend to dump me, although I wouldn't want him to anyway :)
(deadly_sinners, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 13:24, Reply)

Oh, hi.
Yes, I did get your phone messages, and I am so sorry I didn't get back to you right away. I'm glad you agreed to meet me for coffee, though, because we need to talk. See, I was sort of confused by some of the things you said on my voicemail: "Hey, that Kurosawa festival at the Orpheum was extended another week if you want to go." "There's a new Cuban place on Eustace Street. I'm free Thursday evening if you're interested." "Hi, Len, it's Lisa. Call me."

Since we only met last weekend, I didn't really understand all this chummy familiarity. It took me a while to figure it out, but I finally realized that a big misunderstanding had occurred: You think there's something between us. Lisa, you're a really nice, intelligent, attractive girl, and I'm truly sorry to have to say this, but I didn't mean to lead you on last weekend by fucking you.

Please don't feel embarrassed. Some of it, admittedly, is my fault. Looking back on my actions, I can see how there may have been one or two things that made you think I was reciprocating your advances. Like making out with you in that back booth of the bar for 40 minutes. Or how, when we came back to my apartment, I slowly undressed you in my bedroom. Or how I kissed the nape of your neck and shoulders and caressed your bare breasts with one hand as I stimulated your clitoris with the other. Or maybe it was that half-hour of intense cunnilingus before our extremely gratifying intercourse that gave you the wrong idea. I guess I can see how all that foreplay might have been misleading.

Lisa, please don't be offended by what I'm about to ask, but have you been with many men? If you haven't, it's okay—that's nothing to be ashamed of. It's just that, well, a more experienced woman would have quickly deduced from my body language that the fucking wasn't leading to anything. For example, as you were straddling me, I never squeezed your buttocks; I only rested my hands on them. And it's a universally understood notion that when, after climax, a man gets up to go to the bathroom, then goes back to bed and falls asleep with his body turned facing the wall, he's not interested in pursuing anything with the woman.

I sense you're upset and embarrassed, and I'm genuinely sorry. That's totally understandable. You misread the signals I was giving off. If it makes you feel any better, I, too, have misread cues plenty of times. A few months ago, I was sitting on the bus when a pretty girl came aboard. As she walked past, she made extremely brief eye contact, then sat in the seat behind me. Naturally, I thought she was hitting on me. I turned around, smiled, said hello, and began chatting her up. It wasn't long before I started putting the moves on her, but instead of returning my amorous advances, she told me to get lost. So, you see, Lisa, I've been there. The only difference is that in my case, I was definitely being hit on. To this day, I firmly believe that girl was flirting, putting on the coy act. What I misread was the extent to which she was a little tease.

My point is, I know what it's like to be on the other side of that scenario. I just wish someone had set me straight like I'm doing here with you. I had to learn it the hard way.

Okay, I was hoping I wouldn't have to say this, but you've forced me to be more blunt: I don't find you sexually attractive. You're just not my type. You're definitely cute, but I prefer tall, long-torsoed women with freckles on their shoulders and small, pert breasts.

What do you mean, "That describes me perfectly"? Maybe you should find a full-length mirror and take a long, hard, honest look at yourself. Sometimes, our self-image can be severely distorted. I'm not judging you—we're all human and have our frailties. But, Lisa, you're not tall and long-torsoed. Five-feet-nine is not considered tall for a woman. Perhaps in Asia.

Look, I think we're getting into some of your personal issues that don't need to be addressed here. Indulge me on this final point, and I'll let you go. This is no great loss for you. You seem like a lovely girl, and I'm sure you'll find a man very soon. But next time, try to be more aware of what that man is thinking and feeling, and you'll spare yourself a lot of pain. From the angle at which he puts his penis in you to the way he post-coitally strokes your hair, there are many signs a man gives off that will communicate whether he's truly interested in you. The sooner you are able to read them, the happier you'll be.

So let's be friends, okay? Now, how about a hug? No? Come on, don't be like that.

Although, I must admit, your little hostility act is giving me a hard-on. What? Come on, there's no need to get upset. It's strictly a platonic hard-on.

(from the Onion)
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 12:34, Reply)

My brother...
is useless at dumping people, he ususally just cuts off all contact. He doesn't like confrontation of any kind, hence the run away tactic, but it's not excusable.

He has done it many times but the best was with a girl he was seeing in a town near to where we live. She had a kid, and he had moved out of home to live with her much to my mothers annoyance at the time.

Anyhoo, he comes back from work one day to find his girlfriend has taught her daughter to call him "Daddy!", he then puts on a brave smile and says "oh that's wonderful" etc etc and then an hour laters says he is popping out to the shop for a message, his girl gives him a shopping list and what does he do?

He drives back home, and announces he is moving back in and never calls her again or speaks to her again. She got so worried she even called the police. Twat.
( Bamboo Steamer, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 12:15, 6 replies)

It was hard work, but it paid off.
I secretly quit my job, closed my bank account, booked a plane ticket and enrolled at a university a continent away.

He eventually got the hint, but not after asking when I would return.
(TheSnark oh, c'mon, like you didn't see me coming, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 10:20, Reply)

Star Trek
I got rid of an ex by ignoring her for weeks whilst I watched endless amounts of Star Trek.
She still didnt get the hint, so I said
"I've decided to alter the parameters of our relationship."

Ive never seen a girl run so fast!
(Miggyman, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 8:26, 3 replies)

Three years.
Before the nutcase mentioned in a previous QOTW (http://www.b3ta.com/questions/stalked/post119130 for the fun and hilarity) there was... well, I'll call her Becca. For that was her name.

It all started out innocently enough. I had just started college. A balmy September it was. My self-esteem and whatnot improving at a phenominal rate since a few years previous. I had started finally talking to people and leaving the house and jogging in the park... y'know, normal things. I was normal. Yes, I liked the label "normal".

I met Becca the following February. I'd occasionally glimpse her while walking home with mutual friends, talking and laughing, and being generally quite loveable and sweet. I developed a bit of a crush. But it wasn't until a trip to the cinema, that I finally got to have any sort of real conversation with her (me, being the sneaky bastard I am, insisted on being the one who bought the tickets; I made sure she was sitting next to me). We kept exchanging glances throughout the movie (Cold Mountain it was, not bad for a first.. er.. "date"), and she found it cute that found a lot of the film funny (if you ever get a chance to watch it, look out for the scene where a dove flies into a window).

Fastfoward to a week later, and she invites me over to a mutual friends house to help out with babysitting and to watch movies. 28 Days Later. Ah, yes, horror - you guessed it, que her jumping at every oppourtunity, usually landing in my lap, or huddling behind my shoulder. I, however, was pretty oblivious to this, simply because I'd never been an object of interest to women up until this point. It wasn't until she said, "I want to kiss you" at the end of the evening that I finally realised that, well... maybe something was going on here. I remember skipping part of the way home that night, giggling the whole time.

So that's how it started. Sweetly and innocently. I was excited. I'd never had a girlfriend before. She loved the same music, played the same instruments, watched the same movies, had the same pets, laughed at the same jokes.. Matoosh had scored.

Or so I thought.

As all things do, the problems creeped in so slowly I couldn't detect what was going on. She wants to come over, but I'm busy revising? One crying fit later and I felt terrible. How could I possibly refuse this poor girl? She has her way. Oh wait, she can't be bothered to go home? The next day too? The following weeks? Ever? Oh that's alright. It's only like I'm doing my exams, it's not as if suddenly having a female presence permanently in residence will do me any harm. And anyhow, if I say no, she cries. A lot. And screams sometimes. She should be the "priority" as the girlfriend, as she reminds me. Often.

Things were getting a tad tense. She would not leave. Ever. Every day she had to see me. At college, following me home in the evening, staying as late as possible, if not the whole night... taking up every waking moment of my day. And I shouldn't even bother trying to do other things while she was there - she could not stand being ignored. But if she was busy doing something? Well, I learnt my place. I didn't want to risk her losing her tempter, again.

And this is not to mention the calls. Oh, yes, the calls. Sometimes I'd put my phone on silent. Sometimes it'd be upstairs where I couldn't hear it. Sometimes I'd be cycling on a main road. But no, this was no excuse. If i didn't pick up instantly, she's call. And call. And then text. And call. I'd usually end up with about 30 or so missed calls, and a dozen texts. "Where are you? Why aren't you picking up? Are you alive? Have you been in an accident? ARE YOU OKAY? MATOOSH? MATOOSH ARE YOU OKAY?" They became increasingly hysterical as time went on. She'd be in fits of crying most voicemails.

And all through this I was thinking, "what the hell have i got myself into? Please, let this end... this is madness... please, just a day to myself, an hour even... just..."

Of course, you say, you should have just dumped her! Kicked her to the curb! Taken out the TRASH. Well, Matoosh argues: I did. I tried. God I tried. But as time went on she wore me down, wore down my resistance, wore down my spirit. I became depressed; i developed anorexia; my running became an obsession as it was the only time i was away from her. This was all during my exams, too. You try splitting up with someone when in that condition.

By the 2nd year of college I was in dire straights. I weighd under 9 stone, at 6 feet tall. I would go to bed at 8pm, completely exhausted - too tired to even speak some nights, though she thought I was being rude by not conversing with her when she came to bed. I'd sleep fitfully, before getting up at 6am to go running, just to get away, just to escape her for those few precious minutes... and, on top of it, i had been roped into a 2 week holiday with her, in celebration of finishing our exams.

Then came crunch time: the unknown illness. One morning my run feels a bit weird; my feet are a tad tingly... but i ignore it. Next day my muscles are pretty damn tight, tingling getting worse, I'm feeling weak... to cut it short: a week later I was lying in a hospital bed, virtually paralysed, hooked up to various tubes, being told there was a chance my lungs would stop working and I'd have to be put on a ventilator. There's a chance I'll never walk again. There's even a slim chance I'll die. As well as the mental anguish, I was in constant physical pain - it felt like a metal rake being dragged down my exposed spine and nerves again, and again, and again... then Becca visits. Her first words? "But what about our holiday?"

Did I dump her? Did I say, then and there, it was over? To hell did I.

I come out of hospital 10 days later, and begin 2 months of physical rehabilitation. Becca visits me at home every day. I'm too weak to even go for my run, my one escape from her. And, inevitibly. I become completely dependent on her. I can't walk up a flight of stairs? She helps me. I can't cut up my own sandwich? She cuts it up. I can't put my socks on? Well, you get the idea...

About 6 months after leaving hospital, I've effectively "recovered" (as in, I could walk down the street unaided). By this point I'd been with her 2 years. My life was in turmoil. My uni plans were cancelled due to my illness - even though I did attempt the first term, it was just too much - so I come home and have to get a full time job. This was a saving grace: time away from Becca... and money! I have my own money! I can afford to buy my own things without having to live off the parents!.. but.. can you see where this is going? She would hint, quite heavily, that I buy her certain things. Books (by the end of it in the hundreds), food, cinema trips, drinks at the pub, meals out, meals in, tickets to see Lion King... she was a student, living away from home, it would be cruel not to treat her to thnigs - at least, that's what she told me. By this point bulimia has kicked in and my depression has me sometimes confined to bed. She's completely aware of this, completely aware that I now can no longer say no. She takes advantage of it. She saps me for every penny. Even when I eventually have to quit my job due to my low moods, living on income support, she keeps leeching, keeps spending every waking moment with me, taking me shopping...

3 years with her now. I start to attend therapy. My moods improve, my food stabilises, I start saying no. She, because of this, starts becoming angry, lashing out at me, occasionally employing physical violence against me. Bruises are left, emotional as well as physical, but I just about hold strong. I say no. I keep saying no. Something deep down in there wants to escape, and it knows the only way is: no. No no, fucking no.

She eventually starts seeing more of her ex-boyfriend, the one before me. Things start happening between them. I'm overjoyed, but at the same time it destroys me - I was still wholly dependent on this woman, despite the pain she had inflicted. One final argument over the phone and she hangs up, pushing me to the edge. I end up in hospital again (guess why for extra points), not sure what's going to happen to me. She turns up, "I don't want to be with you any more, I can't see you again." and leaves. Leaves me on a hospital bed, dizzy, blood pressure crashing as the doctor's try and decide what to do with my test results. She abandons me.

At the time, sheer horror. I was devastated. Now? Greatest fucking day of my life.

I've moved on now (mostly). My various problems are still present, but massively reduced. Still not back at uni, but working on it. I've had girlfriends since, the one directly after was a complete disaster, but the last one... she reaffirmed my faith in people. We broke up a couple of months ago (we're still great friends) - the wounds inflicted by Becca left it difficult for me to commit to anything serious... I become easily stressed if I feel my privacy - so important to me now - being intruded on by another person. Even slightly. I can't let any one in, no one is allowed that close. Not yet.

But y'know what the worst bit was? The absolutely most terrible part of the whole experience with the evil she-devil? Not once, not ONCE, did we have sex. All that for three bloody years, and I don't get any. NOT. ONCE.

Bloody catholics.
( Matoosh would rather like a biscuit, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 0:01, 28 replies)

All about the Pasta
Before i met my current and potential Mrs Fluffylegend, i had a track record for dating many women.. getting nowhere, and being dumped.
Well the most recent ex changed all that.. Invited me over constantly etc.
anyway onto the gory stuff
4 months down the line, practically living together and its well not for me anymore
So i
a) start seeing someone else
b) meet her - with new girlfriend on arm
c) Tell her its over ( i did that first.. didnt get through)

and the grand finally that meant i never saw her again - well i bump into occassionally but anyways here it is

i told her it could never work because she didnt like pasta

magic - if your ever stuck try it!! (provided s/he doesnt like pasta)
(Fluffylegend, Sun 8 Jun 2008, 23:55, 1 reply)

get the hint
I once asked a young lady "what part of Fuck off and leave me alone you psyco, stalking bitch! you are sucking my will to live". she laughed and said that I was only saying that to make her jealous. She followed me home even though I was taking another girl back and sat outside my house ringing me from her mobile and asking where i was.
I finally got rid of her by volunteering for 6 months in Bosnia, no letters, phone calls or emails and she finally got the message. I think I was meant to be upset when I got home to find she had someone new. i could only smile and pity the poor fool.
(The kneeling rifleman Is slowly getting there.., Sun 8 Jun 2008, 22:39, Reply)

I have been a prize bastard in my time pt2...
Picture the scene if you will. It was the summer of 98, I had taken a year out between A-levels and uni. I had mucked around with a few of the local girls, nothing serious.
Nothing until Jenny* came along.
Jenny was cool for a while, then I got bored, she wasn't all that fit and she tried to settle down too much.
I dumped Jenny. Jenny however did not agree.
I dumped Jenny again, this time much less subtly. Still no comprehension that it was over.
I pulled (and scored with) the girl my friend was after for some time. I was sure that the admission of this would make her dump me (get me with the psychology eh?). Alas not. It seems all I got was a teary phone call and the forgiveness.
Finally it took a combination of some serious ignoring her very existence and eventually introducing her to my new girlfriend. All of this finally got me clear of the little freak, though it did cost me a Foo Fighters hoody (the one with the bubble alien gun) and a limited edition Fat of the Land CD.

Cut to 3 months (and 2 lady friends) later . Most of my friends are going to Glastonbury, I however have no funds to clear the £80 entrance fee. I was seriously bummed but have got used to the fact and the rest of my friends eventually made plans to go without me. Jenny dropped by one of the pubs I frequented with a friend of hers and a sob story. Apparently her boyfriend had dumped her (woo surprise) just before she was going to give him a ticket to Glasto as a present. Long story less long, I get offered the chance to buy said ticket.
£30 later a very happy Magenta Ninja runs off to his mates to bring them the good news.
"Oh dear," they say "there's no room left on our bus."
I had to go back to Jenny and mate to beg for a lift, Jenny happily obliges and we make our travel plans. My Idea was to get a lift down whit the girls the hook up with the lads when I got there and camp with them.

Once at Glasto however I realised that the lads had yet to arrive and as none of us have thought to bring our mobile phones with us I had no way of contacting them. The upshot being that somewhat reluctantly I set my tent with the girls.

The Festival was great, I eventually found the boys and spent most of the time hanging out with them then going back to my tent at the night time to sleep.
Something like the second night in I was in my tent warm in my sleeping bag and asleep when I was woken up by someone opening my tent. In creeps Jenny with her sleeping bag.
I was very wierded out by this and decide to make my excuse to go for a piss or something and get hell out of there. 30 minutes to an hour later I ventured back to hear big old snores coming from my tent. Now I was annoyed at this but also slightly relieved and light was on in her friends tent. I asked if it was ok and her friend invited me in. We started chatting then she droped something of a bombshell.

"There was no other boyfriend, The ticket Jenny had bought was always intended for you. The whole of the last 3 months has been spent planning ways to get back with you!"

It turned out that this had freaked her friend almost as much as me and she only went along because she too got a ticket into Glasto (she didn't have to pay though). One thing lead to another and we eventually "Get it on" as I believe kids today call "hot animal sex".
Unfortunately her friend turned out to be a little vocal and Jenny became very aware of what we were doing.

We didn't realise this until the next morning when we awoke to find Jenny gone, my tent trashed and a note telling us to both and I quote
"Die of Crotch Cancer"

Mission finally accomplished


*Names have been changed to protect, well me really. Didn't you read the story? She was a fucking psycho!
(The Magenta Ninja am behind you stealings yor magenterses, Sun 8 Jun 2008, 22:34, 1 reply)