Biggest regret, and related to sex.
My first serious boyfriend. He introduced me to many things. Drug-fueled sex. Drunken morning uni classes. It didn’t work out because I was young and naïve and he was a pig*. It ended somewhat badly.

~~~wavy lines~~~

...and we both matured in the ensuing years, I thought. He acted Not-Pig well enough to convince me that we could be “ex-lovers that are now just friends” (I have since been schooled quite well that this is not a possibility in the known universe). He needed help with some grad school report and asked me to help, offering to drive me in his new car and show it off.

In the spirit of friendship, I agreed (idiot move). We went to his place. 20 fucking miles away from my car and flat. Of course I helped with the report and it got later and he offered some wine. I had a little. He had more, and oafishly dropped hints, and then outright proposed that, at the moment, as I was not with anyone, and he was not with anyone, that “we ought take care of each other’s needs.”

I declined, and said I thought it was high time for me to get home and was he okay to drive? This angered him, and he swore at me and said “You can get yourself home!” and went to sleep. In the days before ubiquitous cell phones and cell phone coverage, I ended up walking 2 miles in the dead of night to the nearest petrol station, too furious to be sensibly terrified.

I called my sister (bless her heart,) who came 10 miles to pick me up, let me sleep at her home, then got me home the next morning.

Did the wanker ever call to check if I’d made it home? No. I never spoke to him again. He occasionally attempts contact on stalkbook and such, and doesn't understand that I am no longer young and naïve, but he is clearly still a pig.

My regret? That I didn’t take his brand new car and drive it home, park it with the keys in the ignition in a nearby chavvy street, and leave it there.

My excuse to the polizei would have been "I must have misunderstood him when he said to get myself home! Did I forget the keys in the car? Oh dear!"


*and I never did fancy the way his bits slapped against mine on a warm night.

( kila is reading clocks upside-down as usual, Fri 9 Dec 2011, 11:00, 1 reply)

I beg to differ about exes as friends
I count several exes as friends. I invited five of them to my wedding, in fact - and it wasn't anything like that scene in "Four Weddings and a Funeral", before you ask.

Even the (then) batshit mentalist who screwed me over is still a friend - she only hurt me because I cared for her, and that can fade into friendship. I can't be bothered to hold a grudge, after 15 years or whatever it is.

Another came to me for relationship advice recently, which is slightly odd, but flattering.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Fri 9 Dec 2011, 12:22, closed)