That’s when I realised it was over…
A few years ago I was involved in a kind of on/off relationship with this girl. Both of us hooked up as we were going through the throes of respective breakups and although it’s fair to say we both found each other physically attractive, our respective character traits couldn’t exactly be described as compatible.

She was quite the party animal; I am more of a shy and retiring type. Her favourite film was “Shrek” and I apparently came across as a bit of an intellectual snob. But then to her, I suppose so would Karl Pilkington. I digress, we were both shagging each other because in the words of the Sex Pistols “there’s fuck all else to do”, another cultural reference that would probably sail right over her cute head.

It didn’t take long for our respective traits to start to grate. She had a problem with me being somewhat less than enthusiastic about going out partying all the time and I had a problem with her leaving me as designated driver with a bunch of strangers in the kitchen at parties and ignoring me all night.

I forgave a lot of her transgressions because she appealed to some of my baser instincts; however there was once final incident which prompted me to grow a pair and get rid.

One Saturday night she invited me to a nineteen eighties themed party. I say “invited”, what I actually mean is “I was invited to drive her to and from the party and hang around making awkward small talk while she got drunk and gossiped with her mates”.

After five hours at the said party, where I was one of only three straight guys there (actually, I had a riot. I ended up challenging the host to a gay-off, singing 1980s camp disco songs on Sing Star, resplendent in my Jason Donovan mullet wig) I was summoned to the car to take her home. She leaned to me in the car and spoke.

“PJM, I need to ask you something. Something personal…”

“What is it Nicky?” I replied

“Well… You’re an understanding guy. I have this, erm problem I need help with”.

Here we go I thought. She either wants sexyteim with someone else, or money. Either way, I decided I’d be out of the picture before the weekend was over.

“Look, it’s a bit embarrassing. Can I ask you to come to town with me tomorrow and buy something with me? I’d be ever so grateful”

Hmm… Things were looking up. I had visions of Ann Summers stores in mind. I looked at her momentarily and she placed her hand upon mine and I decided to eke this out for one more weekend at least.

The next day I drove her into town and spent most of the afternoon pussyfooting around her whilst she browsed in H&M and New Look for hours on end. Like the proverbial carrot being dangled in front of my face, the thought of possible naughtiness accessories later was enough to keep me from gnawing off my own hand in boredom. Sure enough, she led me out of the door and towards bedroom aid emporium heaven. Oh yes.

With an abrupt pull on my arm, she dragged me off my intended course and into a branch of Boots. What the fuck was going on? She led me over to a particular shelf.

“I’m too embarrassed to buy this myself, I need you to do this for me” she whispered.

I stood there for a moment and reached for the shelf.

“Not yet! Wait until I’ve walked away, someone might see us!” she hissed.

So I mooched around for a few seconds while she went to browse the lipsticks before I picked up the box and walked over to the till.

I handed over the purchase to a smiling young woman on the checkout. I returned her smile and nodded in the direction of the fast retreating Nicky, throwing in a cheery wink for good measure.

“Would you like a bag with this, sir?” she smirked.

“I think that would be a very good idea, don’t you?” I replied, sniggering.

By this time, Nicky was stood outside, her face the colour of rose.

“Don’t give it to me now! Tuck it in your jacket and wait until we get home!” she hissed. Again.

I drove us back to her place, scarcely able to contain my glee. Nicky was visibly bristling at my apparent joy. So with that dear reader, I dropped her off at her place and drove smiling straight home, never to see Nicky again.

I can safely say that I’ve never been asked to buy someone’s Preparation H since.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Thu 21 Oct 2010, 19:55, 8 replies)

My mate
Says it's also good for healing tattoos. Well that's what he says, it doesn't explain the riding hat though.
(Beer Elf Thought this was like a campfire, anyhow, on, Thu 21 Oct 2010, 20:15, closed)

It's good for wrinkles as well

(Nanny Pat vote for me, Thu 21 Oct 2010, 21:54, closed)

Very true
That is why I buy it... Honest Guv!
( Rev. Jayneflakes Buy my book, I need the cash for drugs and hookers, Fri 22 Oct 2010, 1:21, closed)

Also contains more cocoa butter than Cadbury's Dairy Milk
...and probably tastes nicer.

Or is that Anusol?
(all my scars face forward possesses 2.5% of a hyperalloy combat chassis, Fri 22 Oct 2010, 13:06, closed)

Repost much?

(Falstaff's Spiritual Successor, Thu 21 Oct 2010, 20:35, closed)

Only when trying to edit with my nokia phone...
...caused the text to go on the piss.

Was easier to start again from scratch.

That okay with you?
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Thu 21 Oct 2010, 21:33, closed)

I'll struggle through somehow.
Although my shining-beacon-of-pretentious-twattery comment from earlier has been lost and I can't be bothered thinking it up again. This makes me sad.
(Falstaff's Spiritual Successor, Thu 21 Oct 2010, 22:59, closed)

Having worked in Boots
This kind of thing happens *extremely* often
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Mon 25 Oct 2010, 14:25, closed)