This is probably my worst
Cue me, insecure twenty-something, never had too much luck with the ladies, but I am just a couple of months in to my adopted new homeland of Holland, in my favourite metal bar. I'm sitting at the bar, having had a few, and a lady slightly older than me sits next to me. No real oil painting, but not pig-ugly either. Rather sexy deep voice as well - a conversation starts up and we are getting on famously. I think I may have had a toot or two on a funny fag and as the evening progresses the lady is being very forward.

Then I get the fear - the paranoia from the whacky baccy kicks in and I start asking hundreds of questions to myself - why is this woman interested in me? Why is she touching my leg and buying me drinks? Why the deep sexy voice? Sadly then, the fear and the alcohol beat over the rationalism and I come to the conclusion she is in fact a he, and proceed to have a screaming fit in the pub "Get away from me you .... uhh MAN!" much to the amusement of the people in the pub - she naturally runs up stairs crying her eyes out whilst the barman points out she is in fact a woman and I have made a very ugly mistake.

No matter how much you try, you can never consolidate a woman from such an accusation. And the guilt of such an outburst actually hurts. Shame? That night I redefined the boundaries of it.

Time doth heal, and alcohol clouds memories as it did thankfully with her. And I can confirm, at first hand experience and in all honesty she is most definately a woman ;o) And I still drink in that metal bar, though have learned to appreciate the forwardness of some Dutch ladies, and thankfully have realised even ugly old scrotes like me can get laid.
(Waynster James Joyce is fucking my sister!, Fri 25 Nov 2005, 9:46, Reply)