Immigration Song
A couple of years ago I ended a very gruelling 18 month relationship (see here for details). We knew we weren't good for each other but kept shuffling back like a pair of rutting zombies. However, this story does not concern G, but the lass who followed.

Upon finally calling time with G, I found myself short on friends given that G had done all she possibly could to drive a wedge between me and pretty much anyone else I felt I could confide in. My phone wasn't exactly ringing itself off the hook with messages from friends so I jumped at the chance when someone asked me for a date.

Anyway, the lass in question (henceforth known as "M") was very nice. Nice personality, nice smile, nice appearance, probably the living embodiment of the term nice as opposed to outstanding or riotously funny or compelling persona.

"M" originally hailed from Sweden and as such was very fair of hair and skin and although she'd lived a few years in the UK she hadn't managed to erase a trace of an accent. She was very intelligent and well travelled, never bad things by any means.

We went on a few dates, took things relatively slowly and generally had a nice time together.

So why am I damning with faint praise?

Well, chiefly I suppose that "M" seemed to possess no discernible sense of humour. Despite having lived in England for twelve years, it was obvious that the concept of British humour was alien to her. I can't help but drop in puns of varying degrees of awfulness in conversation, which usually results in either a chuckle or a grimace. However, with this lass there was no reaction whatsoever. It was like dating a Vulcan.

I'm someone who needs humour to keep them sane. The world is a depressing enough place as it is without laughter, so I figured this liaison wasn't one for the long term. No harm in that, I'd just come out of a long relationship so I was open about the fact I wasn't looking to settle down. Fine.

However one incident for me was the clincher.

Every year, I hook up with a few mates at a local beer festival to shoot the breeze, drink beer and generally loaf about for a few days. I usually pitch a tent and sleep off my hangover there instead of trying to find my way home, so liberally lubricated with a few pints of ale and having conscripted the help of a couple of pals, I struggled to get my tent pitched in a race against time with ever darkening skies.

Having eventually claimed a tactical victory, I sent "M" the following message via SMS

After a great deal of effort I have finally managed to achieve an erection! All present agree that it's most magnificent and is the envy of the campsite. Fnar.

With that, I wandered off for more beer.

Ten minutes later, my phone beeped into life.

Are you mad? That's disgusting, how dare you share the details about what you get up to with other women. Have you no respect for my feelings?

Wha? Eh?

I tactfully explained that I was making a reference to tent pitching. No apology or explanation for jumping to conclusions was forthcoming so I resolved to stop seeing "M". The very next weekend, I drove over to her place and went for a drink explaining that I had matters I thought we should discuss.

"I'm sorry 'M'. It just isn't working out for me, I don't think that we have a viable future, as it appears fairly obvious that we're quite different personalities".

With that, she shot me the filthiest of looks, started to cry and remained absolutely silent. For an hour, I sat there not knowing what to do. I explained why I didn't think it would work out and that I hoped she'd understand. No response whatsoever...

I had enough and suggested that I walk her home. On the short walk back to her flat I asked if she understood what I'd explained to her.

"Yes, I understand".

Great, that's progress. However at the door, she stunned me with what she said next.

"Have you got plans this Christmas? I'd very much like to take you back home to meet my Mum and Dad".

What? Had she not heard and digested what I had said? I'd just explained that I didn't think we should see each other.

"But 'M', half an hour ago I explained that I don't think we should see each other anymore"

"Oh yes, but I thought maybe you would like to come home with me?".

Utterly dumbstruck, I bade her goodbye and left.

Five days later, my phone chimed into life

"I'm on the train up to see you. Can you collect me from the railway station?"

Wha? Stupidly I obliged, my response that I'd made other plans for the weekend went unnoticed.

Sure enough, I picked her up and took her to one side explaining that she was now my "friend" and that there was no "relationship". "Oh yes, I understand" she replied.

Now that weekend, I had arranged for a friend to come and stay. He had the lounge and despite trying to subtly explain to "M" that three was fast becoming an awkward crowd, she persisted. I'm not proud dear reader, but "M" and I ended up sharing my bed out of necessity for she had nowhere else to sleep. Now, I made damn sure I slept clothed and did nothing to take advantage of the situation, again explaining that seeing as we were "friends" that sex was very much not on the agenda.

At three in the morning I'm woken up by a large goods train that normally passes by my flat at this time. I can feel the place shaking gently as the heavily laden wagons cause the ground to tremble. However, there's something different this time.

I can't hear the "thrum" of the straining diesel engine.

With a start, I realised that the shaking is confined not only to the room, but the bed itself. "M" was none-too-subtly bringing herself to a manually induced climax in my bed.

I'm somewhat ashamed to admit that from that moment on I had to resort to less than subtle techniques to get the message across. A couple of weeks of ignored texts, unreturned phone calls and an eventual explanation that I needed the rest of eternity on my own did the trick. Sometimes being "nice" doesn't quite cut it.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Fri 6 Jun 2008, 13:30, 7 replies)

Your posts PJM.
Are always long and slick - fnar fnar.

No sense of humour *shudders*
( girlinthehole, Fri 6 Jun 2008, 13:40, closed)

No sense of humour? I sympathise...
I once wrote a 'humorous' song which involved, as one of its principal 'jokes,' a line about sleeping with your girlfriend's sister. Most of my friends thought this song was funny, if a little distasteful.

The girl I was dating at the time didn't realise I was joking. The mortified look, followed by "So you slept with your last girlfriend's sister?" was a good indication that we were on very different wavelengths. (I'm just glad she didn't think I was confessing to sleeping with her sister...)

Love the erection joke. Fnaar fnaar.
(LongJohnBaldry, Fri 6 Jun 2008, 14:09, closed)

Strange girl
I would have laughed like a drain if you'd texted me "After a great deal of effort I have finally managed to achieve an erection! All present agree that it's most magnificent and is the envy of the campsite. Fnar."

But then, I am filthy.
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Fri 6 Jun 2008, 14:10, closed)

@bobfossil
I now have an image of sponge bathing you and I have no idea why!
(Halfy By light alone, Fri 6 Jun 2008, 15:14, closed)

Halfy
That's...nice!
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Fri 6 Jun 2008, 16:26, closed)

@bobfossil
i know a bit of girl speak and im pretty sure that translates to

"what the fuck? what the fuck? what the fucking fucking fuck?"

im tired and want to go home now.
(Halfy By light alone, Fri 6 Jun 2008, 16:30, closed)

Now
halfys comment about Bob has me imagining Bob sitting in a old fashioned bath, with one of those big head showers sprinkling away, still dressed in her black cocktail dress, but with hair now slicked back because of the water, and still singing "All that Jazz" with a cigarette in one of those long holders in one hand.

And I really don't know why.
(Bazongaloid, Fri 6 Jun 2008, 22:10, closed)