The Birth Of Eric
In 1987 my year and the year above were taken on a school trip to France.

The year above contained the then woman of my dreams, the wonderful, glamorous, mature and oh so sophisticated Jackie L.

I crushed on Jackie L.

Hard.

And Jackie L. knew it.

And so, it came to pass, that in a tatty hostel near Normandy, in a dirty swimming pool, your hero was arsing about with friends and behaving generally like the just turned 13 year old twat that he was when the love of his life walked up casually in her swimming costume and lithely climbed down the steps into the pool.

She swam, she climbed out the other end of the pool, dripping wet.

I was transfixed. I was stone cold still, my eyes glued to the object of my affection.

Until she saw me staring.

And unleashed a torrent of abuse on me that basically, among other things, convinced me that I was a fucking little creep.

And I fled. I clambered out of the pool and fled as fast as my pasty white teenage legs would carry me.

Which was not fast enough to prevent everyone from seeing the boner that had created a proud tent in my swim shorts.

It was certainly not fast enough to prevent Jackie L. screaming, loudly, 'you've got an erection, you little pervert'.

I was humiliated, I was in tears of shame. I was devastated*.

And that, my dear friends, is how I became known as "Eric".

And remain so to this day among a certain circle of friends.




*Mind you, I still wanked like a german that night. After all, I'd seen Jackie L. in her swimsuit.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 14:22, 1 reply)

*click*
Ahh, that's romance! You should write Mills & Boon novels, matey.
( SpankyHanky, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 14:44, closed)