Not proud of it
But I managed to get my fuckbuddy to fall in love with me. Not on purpose I assure you. We'd been in high school together, same classes and hated the sight of each other, but ten years had passed when he messaged me on myspace and looked pretty good in his photos.

So we hooked up on the understanding that I'd recently come out of a long term relationship and this was just playing. Or so I thought.

For my birthday he took me on a weekend away, I only went thinking of sex in different places, while he was thinking it was time to take our relationship to the next step - no not that step you filthy buggers! Whereupon he plied me with roses, chocolates, the full works basically and declared his love for me.

So I'm 300 miles from home, there's no public transport as we're out in the sticks and there wasn't even phone reception to call someone to get me. So plan of escape meant that I 'had' to get very very drunk, pretend to be interested in the much younger (but not so young its wrong) hotel owners son throw up on him in bed, tell him I wasn't interested many many times and demand he drive me home at 3am.

Poor guy still wanted to see me when we got back home. In retrospect I could have called a cab from the bar and gotten a train home, but he freaked me out.

He got off lighter than an ex that cheated on me and ended up with broken legs.
( fuck shit up the best you never had, Fri 6 Jun 2008, 13:08, 2 replies)

I want
to hear the story about the broken-legs man.
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Fri 6 Jun 2008, 13:51, closed)

So do I!
Broken legs man!
( Cawl, Fri 6 Jun 2008, 13:53, closed)