Teenage Crushes - Part Two
Freddie Woo writes: I've still got weird feelings for a well-known female TV presenter from the 1980s. I'm now in my forties, work in the same building as her and she follows me on a number of social networking sites. And now, she knows about it.
Tell us about the teenage crushes that still make you go wobbly.
( , Thu 5 Nov 2009, 11:04)
Freddie Woo writes: I've still got weird feelings for a well-known female TV presenter from the 1980s. I'm now in my forties, work in the same building as her and she follows me on a number of social networking sites. And now, she knows about it.
Tell us about the teenage crushes that still make you go wobbly.
( , Thu 5 Nov 2009, 11:04)
This question is now closed.
nicole
nicole's perfect bottom in dead calm, before the botox and all that crap
but! shes looking FUCKINGHOT again on the front of this months GQ though!
mmmmmmm! pale gingery moistness
( , Tue 10 Nov 2009, 0:12, 3 replies)
nicole's perfect bottom in dead calm, before the botox and all that crap
but! shes looking FUCKINGHOT again on the front of this months GQ though!
mmmmmmm! pale gingery moistness
( , Tue 10 Nov 2009, 0:12, 3 replies)
so I was seeing this girl a few years ago...
...it was all a bit messy but I had this inexplicable urge to be with her. even after I ended it I kept coming back for more. anyway, about a year later I was watching For Your Eyes Only and it suddenly clicked - this girl looked exactly like Sheena Easton in the opening credits. I had been living out my childhood fantasy of having a go on Sheena Easton.
I still think about her, but when I do it's this I see:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=8BOWrm4xzQ0
p.s. she didn't have shit 80's hair though.
( , Tue 10 Nov 2009, 0:11, 1 reply)
...it was all a bit messy but I had this inexplicable urge to be with her. even after I ended it I kept coming back for more. anyway, about a year later I was watching For Your Eyes Only and it suddenly clicked - this girl looked exactly like Sheena Easton in the opening credits. I had been living out my childhood fantasy of having a go on Sheena Easton.
I still think about her, but when I do it's this I see:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=8BOWrm4xzQ0
p.s. she didn't have shit 80's hair though.
( , Tue 10 Nov 2009, 0:11, 1 reply)
I'm going to throw in a few curveballs
1. Whigfield - OOFT!
2. Martika - Couldn't understand why she made my winky feel all tingly
3. Emily Booth - Surely not just me
4. The girl from Hot Shots - Bit with the ice cube still brings a tear
to my japs eye
5. Dannii Minogue - Always hotter than Kylie IMO, and looking better
than Cheryl these days too*
6. Ursa from Superman II - Ah my PVC goddess!
I really was a horrible little pervert teenager.
*prepares for backlash
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 22:58, 8 replies)
1. Whigfield - OOFT!
2. Martika - Couldn't understand why she made my winky feel all tingly
3. Emily Booth - Surely not just me
4. The girl from Hot Shots - Bit with the ice cube still brings a tear
to my japs eye
5. Dannii Minogue - Always hotter than Kylie IMO, and looking better
than Cheryl these days too*
6. Ursa from Superman II - Ah my PVC goddess!
I really was a horrible little pervert teenager.
*prepares for backlash
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 22:58, 8 replies)
Mentioned before and not
Winona Ryder, my first teen crush, and still would give my right arm.
Andrea Boardman off of the Disney Club. The only thing that got me up on a sunday morning with the added bonus of Chip N Dale: Rescue Rangers (not that I had a crush on them, that would be weird, although having a teen crush on Stan Boardmans daughter may be weird enough).
Amy Allen off of the A-Team. My family mocked me for that one when I let it slip during one episode on a weekend evening.
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 21:45, Reply)
Winona Ryder, my first teen crush, and still would give my right arm.
Andrea Boardman off of the Disney Club. The only thing that got me up on a sunday morning with the added bonus of Chip N Dale: Rescue Rangers (not that I had a crush on them, that would be weird, although having a teen crush on Stan Boardmans daughter may be weird enough).
Amy Allen off of the A-Team. My family mocked me for that one when I let it slip during one episode on a weekend evening.
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 21:45, Reply)
visited the fairlawn hotel in calcutta
a few years ago,the hotel where felicity kendel grew up.
couldn`t afford to stay there but got a look at her old bedroom anyway..(its ok she was there until she was 18).
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 20:10, Reply)
a few years ago,the hotel where felicity kendel grew up.
couldn`t afford to stay there but got a look at her old bedroom anyway..(its ok she was there until she was 18).
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 20:10, Reply)
Not me but every man of an age
fancies Felicity Kendel, and quite rightly too.
Well my boyfriend (at the time) worked with her a few years ago and had to fit her radio mic............ between her boobs.
Yes every day he got to stick his had down Felicity Kendel's top.
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 19:55, 5 replies)
fancies Felicity Kendel, and quite rightly too.
Well my boyfriend (at the time) worked with her a few years ago and had to fit her radio mic............ between her boobs.
Yes every day he got to stick his had down Felicity Kendel's top.
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 19:55, 5 replies)
Rachel Mcadams
The worlds perfect woman
theblemish.com/images/2009/08/rachel-mcadams-time-travelers-wife-500x412.jpg
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 19:24, 6 replies)
The worlds perfect woman
theblemish.com/images/2009/08/rachel-mcadams-time-travelers-wife-500x412.jpg
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 19:24, 6 replies)
do i need to reply with the same answer again as a couple of weeks ago?
kelly osbourne...mmmmmmmmmm.
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 19:18, 8 replies)
kelly osbourne...mmmmmmmmmm.
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 19:18, 8 replies)
Drew Barrymore
since I saw E.T. when it first came out on video years ago. I'm a little bit younger than her and my wife know I will leave everything behind for Drew even now, after Tom Green gave her some one-ball curse (probly), and Justin Long hit that.
There was another girl, i was not a teen, but she was 18(I was 23). I went to the mall with my friend and saw her sitting in Applebee's, a restaurant if you are unaware. She was eating with her friends and cut her eyes at me. I ended up walking by the window at least 6 times to look at her, and every time I got the same look from her. When she left with her friends, I was gonna go into action! But I froze, I didn't know what to say. My friend, a 300 lb black guy called donut, jumped into action and nearly made 3 little white girls run in fear. He talked to her and got her number for me. Later, I worked up the courage to talk to her myself and we made plans to go out. Five years later, we're married with 2 kids and I'm still embarassed that I was too scared to talk to her. Tis a happy ending though.
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 19:01, 2 replies)
since I saw E.T. when it first came out on video years ago. I'm a little bit younger than her and my wife know I will leave everything behind for Drew even now, after Tom Green gave her some one-ball curse (probly), and Justin Long hit that.
There was another girl, i was not a teen, but she was 18(I was 23). I went to the mall with my friend and saw her sitting in Applebee's, a restaurant if you are unaware. She was eating with her friends and cut her eyes at me. I ended up walking by the window at least 6 times to look at her, and every time I got the same look from her. When she left with her friends, I was gonna go into action! But I froze, I didn't know what to say. My friend, a 300 lb black guy called donut, jumped into action and nearly made 3 little white girls run in fear. He talked to her and got her number for me. Later, I worked up the courage to talk to her myself and we made plans to go out. Five years later, we're married with 2 kids and I'm still embarassed that I was too scared to talk to her. Tis a happy ending though.
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 19:01, 2 replies)
Lacey
For that was her name, and unless she's changed it via deed poll in the last half hour, it still is.
I've known her for five odd years. I've only just trotted off to uni (at the other end of the country, although I'm delighted I have and love it here) and she will be doing the same next year.
We've always been good friends, there would be periods of where we'd drift apart in the sense that we wouldn't see each other as much, but we were close none the less. She was and is perfect. Stunning, funny, clever, great taste in music and she doesn't take the piss like everyone else does about the fact I lurve Deal or No Deal.
I've always fancied the pants off her, always. You know when you deny it to yourself, and tell yourself you don't, but deep down, despite not even admitting it inside, you can't stop thinking about someone? That was me. I didn't want to admit it because I didn't think she'd ever feel the same way about me. I wouldn't say I'm unattractive, to be honest I haven't a clue, but it's one of those "why would she go for me" situations. Plus with our friendship having gone on for so long, why would she want to change that now?
Six months ago, give or take, I finally managed to confront my feelings. I was head over heels and thought about her all day every day. She dropped me a text one afternoon that simply said "I'm coming over, I want to see you x". Gulp. What the hell did that mean. The door went. She came in. The usual stuff happened. Watched tele, listened to music, talked for hours as we were cuddled up on the sofa. Then she revealed that she fancied a lad a couple months back and he knocked her back. She showed me a picture of him on the laptop. Nothing special by any means. I told her that as I went to get a couple of drinks.
"Lacey. You're perfect, any man would be the luckiest person alive if he had the chance to go out with you".
She stared at me for a moment, like never before. I could see she was looking at me like I'd always looked at her. "Well then, who do you think I should go out with?". There it was. My moment. And you know what?
I bottled it.
I couldn't even tell you what I said because I can't remember. All I know was it that was some inane drivel, and I haven't forgiven myself or had the courage to tell her how I feel since then. She looked dejected and left soon after.
She's going out with an idiot now. The one moment where I knew she felt how I had all this time and I messed it up. I'm only young, but I still kick myself every day and I'm still torn up inside. If you think there's ever a chance with someone, fucking take it is the lesson I've learned. Getting shot down can't feel half as bad as it did for me in the hour or so after she left that sunny day.
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 18:25, 34 replies)
For that was her name, and unless she's changed it via deed poll in the last half hour, it still is.
I've known her for five odd years. I've only just trotted off to uni (at the other end of the country, although I'm delighted I have and love it here) and she will be doing the same next year.
We've always been good friends, there would be periods of where we'd drift apart in the sense that we wouldn't see each other as much, but we were close none the less. She was and is perfect. Stunning, funny, clever, great taste in music and she doesn't take the piss like everyone else does about the fact I lurve Deal or No Deal.
I've always fancied the pants off her, always. You know when you deny it to yourself, and tell yourself you don't, but deep down, despite not even admitting it inside, you can't stop thinking about someone? That was me. I didn't want to admit it because I didn't think she'd ever feel the same way about me. I wouldn't say I'm unattractive, to be honest I haven't a clue, but it's one of those "why would she go for me" situations. Plus with our friendship having gone on for so long, why would she want to change that now?
Six months ago, give or take, I finally managed to confront my feelings. I was head over heels and thought about her all day every day. She dropped me a text one afternoon that simply said "I'm coming over, I want to see you x". Gulp. What the hell did that mean. The door went. She came in. The usual stuff happened. Watched tele, listened to music, talked for hours as we were cuddled up on the sofa. Then she revealed that she fancied a lad a couple months back and he knocked her back. She showed me a picture of him on the laptop. Nothing special by any means. I told her that as I went to get a couple of drinks.
"Lacey. You're perfect, any man would be the luckiest person alive if he had the chance to go out with you".
She stared at me for a moment, like never before. I could see she was looking at me like I'd always looked at her. "Well then, who do you think I should go out with?". There it was. My moment. And you know what?
I bottled it.
I couldn't even tell you what I said because I can't remember. All I know was it that was some inane drivel, and I haven't forgiven myself or had the courage to tell her how I feel since then. She looked dejected and left soon after.
She's going out with an idiot now. The one moment where I knew she felt how I had all this time and I messed it up. I'm only young, but I still kick myself every day and I'm still torn up inside. If you think there's ever a chance with someone, fucking take it is the lesson I've learned. Getting shot down can't feel half as bad as it did for me in the hour or so after she left that sunny day.
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 18:25, 34 replies)
Belinda Carlisle?!
A bit before my teens but the first crush I can remember.
Back when I was a young chap (about 8 years old) I saw Ms Carlisle appear as a guest on 'Shooting Stars' (A surreal panel show with apparently no rules or purpose. Still quite funny though) The minute I spotted this psiren, it awakened a desire in me that I was altogether unfamiliar with. I knew that I wanted her but being 8 years old I didn't really know what I wanted her for.
I still can't listen to 'Heaven is a place on earth' without a slight twinge in the trousers.
Shame she's pretty fugly nowadays!
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 17:14, 4 replies)
A bit before my teens but the first crush I can remember.
Back when I was a young chap (about 8 years old) I saw Ms Carlisle appear as a guest on 'Shooting Stars' (A surreal panel show with apparently no rules or purpose. Still quite funny though) The minute I spotted this psiren, it awakened a desire in me that I was altogether unfamiliar with. I knew that I wanted her but being 8 years old I didn't really know what I wanted her for.
I still can't listen to 'Heaven is a place on earth' without a slight twinge in the trousers.
Shame she's pretty fugly nowadays!
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 17:14, 4 replies)
The memories!
From around the age of 11 right up to the age of 21 I was in a continuous series of crushes; proper crushes. Adrenalin-surge-when-you-even-just-glimpse-them, planning-your-entire-day-around-when-you-might-bump-into-them, being-rendered-speechless-to-the-brink-of-idiocy-in-front-of-them, thinking-about-them-to-the-point-of-insanity, all that lovely stuff. Even though I dabbled in the odd bit of sordid fantasising over famous people (David Duchovny, Johnny Depp – the classics), and even though I managed to slurp and fumble my way through your common-or-garden opposite-sex teen experiences as per the Rule Book of Life; I cannot remember a time from that period where I was not hopelessly, painfully, and - most importantly - secretly ‘in love’ with someone I knew.
I shall attempt to catalogue. First one below, next two in replies due to length.
Age 11 – 15
My brother’s best friend, Tris, was a couple of years older than me. He came round to our house relatively often, lugging his PC with him for some serious LAN war action with my bro. I would watch like a chubby, ginger hungry beast from behind the banisters, rendered totally, blindingly inarticulate by the mists of lust which descended whenever I saw his mushroom-pale, pimply face.
Oh, Tris! If only you had known how the breath came whistling faster through my train-track braces whenever you appeared in one of your horrible old black Iron Maiden t-shirts, your skinny (‘toned’ I called it, then) arms struggling to carry your massive monitor to our front room. How the thick lenses of my Boots spectacles fogged up at your powerful adolescent whiff of slightly rusty armpits and growling hormones! One day, after years of crotch-tingling desire, I finally summoned the courage to sneak up behind you as you were playing Quake and ‘seductively’ run my finger up and down your back. Unfortunately, in the thumping adrenalin override I experienced which fritzed out quite a lot of my brain’s circuitry, I instead roughly wiped a sweaty few fingers over your neck, making you shriek and leap in the air thinking someone had suddenly tried to grab you with some room-temperature Cumberland sausages. There was really no recovery from there, so from that moment I hid whenever you came over. We never spoke of it. Heartbreak.
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 17:13, 7 replies)
From around the age of 11 right up to the age of 21 I was in a continuous series of crushes; proper crushes. Adrenalin-surge-when-you-even-just-glimpse-them, planning-your-entire-day-around-when-you-might-bump-into-them, being-rendered-speechless-to-the-brink-of-idiocy-in-front-of-them, thinking-about-them-to-the-point-of-insanity, all that lovely stuff. Even though I dabbled in the odd bit of sordid fantasising over famous people (David Duchovny, Johnny Depp – the classics), and even though I managed to slurp and fumble my way through your common-or-garden opposite-sex teen experiences as per the Rule Book of Life; I cannot remember a time from that period where I was not hopelessly, painfully, and - most importantly - secretly ‘in love’ with someone I knew.
I shall attempt to catalogue. First one below, next two in replies due to length.
Age 11 – 15
My brother’s best friend, Tris, was a couple of years older than me. He came round to our house relatively often, lugging his PC with him for some serious LAN war action with my bro. I would watch like a chubby, ginger hungry beast from behind the banisters, rendered totally, blindingly inarticulate by the mists of lust which descended whenever I saw his mushroom-pale, pimply face.
Oh, Tris! If only you had known how the breath came whistling faster through my train-track braces whenever you appeared in one of your horrible old black Iron Maiden t-shirts, your skinny (‘toned’ I called it, then) arms struggling to carry your massive monitor to our front room. How the thick lenses of my Boots spectacles fogged up at your powerful adolescent whiff of slightly rusty armpits and growling hormones! One day, after years of crotch-tingling desire, I finally summoned the courage to sneak up behind you as you were playing Quake and ‘seductively’ run my finger up and down your back. Unfortunately, in the thumping adrenalin override I experienced which fritzed out quite a lot of my brain’s circuitry, I instead roughly wiped a sweaty few fingers over your neck, making you shriek and leap in the air thinking someone had suddenly tried to grab you with some room-temperature Cumberland sausages. There was really no recovery from there, so from that moment I hid whenever you came over. We never spoke of it. Heartbreak.
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 17:13, 7 replies)
A few from my early teens.
Let's start with Raquel Welch in 1 Million BC.
Followed by Leela.
Followed by Axa
To this day anything involving a woman in a fur/leather bikini is going to get my attention.
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 17:04, 5 replies)
Let's start with Raquel Welch in 1 Million BC.
Followed by Leela.
Followed by Axa
To this day anything involving a woman in a fur/leather bikini is going to get my attention.
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 17:04, 5 replies)
Linda Lusardi
The only images I ever saw of her until I was about 18 were on the cover art of the Barbarian computer game (BBC Model B), but they were enough to keep me going...
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 16:24, 3 replies)
The only images I ever saw of her until I was about 18 were on the cover art of the Barbarian computer game (BBC Model B), but they were enough to keep me going...
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 16:24, 3 replies)
Cheetara
from the Thundercats. She would run around basically naked and she had that stick that would magically grow with a flick of her wrist, hmmmm.
And no it didn't turn me into a furry.
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 16:14, Reply)
from the Thundercats. She would run around basically naked and she had that stick that would magically grow with a flick of her wrist, hmmmm.
And no it didn't turn me into a furry.
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 16:14, Reply)
Uptown girl
She's been living in her uptown world
I bet she never had a back street guy
I bet her mama never told her why
- CLUNK !!! - The videotape nearly ripped in two as the early eighties JVC video recorder, a hi-tech piece of kit for the time weighing in at half a ton and only taking up three cubic meters of my mate Bradley’s living room, wheezed and coughed and complained but somehow held steady(ish). Bradley and I were sat on the rug peering intently up at the screen.
“THERE!!!” said Bradley.
“Where?” I asked desperately – it was like looking at one of those ‘seeing-eye’ magic pictures where if you stare long enough you see a Bavarian castle, a horsey, or a lion – only that wasn’t the kind of pussy Bradley and I were scanning the screen for.
“THERE!!!” said Bradley again and he pointed.
“OH, THERE!!!” and I pointed too.
“No – that’s her kneecap! Further up! Further up!”
And we did this for pretty much the entire afternoon. Watching the video for Billy Joel’s Uptown Girl which we’d taped off of Top of the Pops and developing a massive, incredible, unbelievably strong crush on the fancy looking lady in the video who seems to really hit it off with the annoying shortarse whiney musician dressed up like a car mechanic. And why were we doing this? Because at school earlier that day Terry Johnson said that if you paused the video in just the right place as she’s getting out the car, you can see, very clearly, her puffy pink gash…
We couldn’t see a fucking thing. OK, we were little kids and wouldn't have recognised a pulsating pudenda if it'd been framed by a flashing neon sign with an arrow pointing at the glistening, puckerd lips stating: PUSSY HERE!!! But, we couldn't see a damn thing all the same. Probably a load of old bollocks on Terry's part. But still, twenty-odd years later if I happen to see the video for that utter waste of time song I’ll sit through the whole damn thing, perched on the edge of my seat, waiting, watching, hoping, praying…
Let’s face it – most teenage crushes centre round the fact that the object of your affection is in possession of a fully functioning vagina. And the girl in the Uptown Girl video certainly had one of those hidden somewhere about her person. Thinking about it, I’m just glad I wasn’t a teenager when the Spice Girls were exploding onto the scene like the five ropey slags dressed in tight, camel toe inducing spandex that they were…. I’d have probably gone blind…
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 13:49, 11 replies)
She's been living in her uptown world
I bet she never had a back street guy
I bet her mama never told her why
- CLUNK !!! - The videotape nearly ripped in two as the early eighties JVC video recorder, a hi-tech piece of kit for the time weighing in at half a ton and only taking up three cubic meters of my mate Bradley’s living room, wheezed and coughed and complained but somehow held steady(ish). Bradley and I were sat on the rug peering intently up at the screen.
“THERE!!!” said Bradley.
“Where?” I asked desperately – it was like looking at one of those ‘seeing-eye’ magic pictures where if you stare long enough you see a Bavarian castle, a horsey, or a lion – only that wasn’t the kind of pussy Bradley and I were scanning the screen for.
“THERE!!!” said Bradley again and he pointed.
“OH, THERE!!!” and I pointed too.
“No – that’s her kneecap! Further up! Further up!”
And we did this for pretty much the entire afternoon. Watching the video for Billy Joel’s Uptown Girl which we’d taped off of Top of the Pops and developing a massive, incredible, unbelievably strong crush on the fancy looking lady in the video who seems to really hit it off with the annoying shortarse whiney musician dressed up like a car mechanic. And why were we doing this? Because at school earlier that day Terry Johnson said that if you paused the video in just the right place as she’s getting out the car, you can see, very clearly, her puffy pink gash…
We couldn’t see a fucking thing. OK, we were little kids and wouldn't have recognised a pulsating pudenda if it'd been framed by a flashing neon sign with an arrow pointing at the glistening, puckerd lips stating: PUSSY HERE!!! But, we couldn't see a damn thing all the same. Probably a load of old bollocks on Terry's part. But still, twenty-odd years later if I happen to see the video for that utter waste of time song I’ll sit through the whole damn thing, perched on the edge of my seat, waiting, watching, hoping, praying…
Let’s face it – most teenage crushes centre round the fact that the object of your affection is in possession of a fully functioning vagina. And the girl in the Uptown Girl video certainly had one of those hidden somewhere about her person. Thinking about it, I’m just glad I wasn’t a teenager when the Spice Girls were exploding onto the scene like the five ropey slags dressed in tight, camel toe inducing spandex that they were…. I’d have probably gone blind…
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 13:49, 11 replies)
Cyber stalking
Through my teenage years from 11- 18 there was just one girl I was besotted by. Others might come and go, but there was always her. Being the nerdy social death magnet that I was, she was always weary of me. After A-Levels we went our separate ways.
So one day last month I spent a lunch hour tracking her down. She had a fairly rare surname which makes it easier. Typing her name into 192.com, I can tell that she spent 4 years at university which means she will be extra qualified. She then spent 3 years in the south east at an address with a man's name on the electoral roll before moving back to her home region. Landlord or boyfriend? Well he left the university at the same time, so I'm guessing boyfriend relationship that didn't work out.
From her LinkedIn profile I can see her original job. The company location matches what 192 says about her being in the SE for 3 years, before moving back here and taking on a more impressive job title. With the extra university qualification I can see that she must be quite well paid now. And she works in IT, after belitting me over it for all those years.
A quick visit to nethouseprices.com, and there is the house shes living in, bought 4 years ago for a decent sum. I even download the title deeds from landregistry.gov.uk and confirm that it is her. I never knew before that she had a middle name. An aerial scan at various online mapping sites reveals a tidy garden and a sensible car which is always a good sign.
Finally I check with facebook. There she is, and her friend list is made up of people from her current company, tieing in with linkedin.com. Whilst I can't see her profile, I can see that of one of her friends. They went on holiday together recently, and there is a pool photo of her that would have wanked myself to a dry husk over in my teenage years.
And happily now I've moved on. Theres no payoff to this story that I'm going to go round there with an axe, or even contact her. After a dismal teenage decade, I'm taking this as a small success that I've got over it.
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 12:53, 13 replies)
Through my teenage years from 11- 18 there was just one girl I was besotted by. Others might come and go, but there was always her. Being the nerdy social death magnet that I was, she was always weary of me. After A-Levels we went our separate ways.
So one day last month I spent a lunch hour tracking her down. She had a fairly rare surname which makes it easier. Typing her name into 192.com, I can tell that she spent 4 years at university which means she will be extra qualified. She then spent 3 years in the south east at an address with a man's name on the electoral roll before moving back to her home region. Landlord or boyfriend? Well he left the university at the same time, so I'm guessing boyfriend relationship that didn't work out.
From her LinkedIn profile I can see her original job. The company location matches what 192 says about her being in the SE for 3 years, before moving back here and taking on a more impressive job title. With the extra university qualification I can see that she must be quite well paid now. And she works in IT, after belitting me over it for all those years.
A quick visit to nethouseprices.com, and there is the house shes living in, bought 4 years ago for a decent sum. I even download the title deeds from landregistry.gov.uk and confirm that it is her. I never knew before that she had a middle name. An aerial scan at various online mapping sites reveals a tidy garden and a sensible car which is always a good sign.
Finally I check with facebook. There she is, and her friend list is made up of people from her current company, tieing in with linkedin.com. Whilst I can't see her profile, I can see that of one of her friends. They went on holiday together recently, and there is a pool photo of her that would have wanked myself to a dry husk over in my teenage years.
And happily now I've moved on. Theres no payoff to this story that I'm going to go round there with an axe, or even contact her. After a dismal teenage decade, I'm taking this as a small success that I've got over it.
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 12:53, 13 replies)
I am not proud
Even at the time I knew it was wrong. I was young, just passing over the lip of the terrifying waterfall that is puberty. The memory now is a white-hot beacon of shame, so bright that it is physically painful to face it head on.
The lady in question? Tobacco-voiced, leather-skinned bored nymphomaniac housewife Dorien, played in awful '80's BBC sitcom Birds of a Feather by Lesley Joseph.
To this day I'm still drawn to slutty, older Jewish ladies in indecently short skirts. I was foolish enough to date one once too, but I can't post that story until another Stalker qotw comes round.
I still would as well, but I'd spend about a year in the shower afterwards, gently weeping and saying over and over, "you'll never be clean, you'll never be clean."
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 12:44, 6 replies)
Even at the time I knew it was wrong. I was young, just passing over the lip of the terrifying waterfall that is puberty. The memory now is a white-hot beacon of shame, so bright that it is physically painful to face it head on.
The lady in question? Tobacco-voiced, leather-skinned bored nymphomaniac housewife Dorien, played in awful '80's BBC sitcom Birds of a Feather by Lesley Joseph.
To this day I'm still drawn to slutty, older Jewish ladies in indecently short skirts. I was foolish enough to date one once too, but I can't post that story until another Stalker qotw comes round.
I still would as well, but I'd spend about a year in the shower afterwards, gently weeping and saying over and over, "you'll never be clean, you'll never be clean."
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 12:44, 6 replies)
OK, cards on the table time…
I think we all know the completely hopeless feeling that washes over you like a sudden and terrible frost, spreading from your internal organs and ending with a strange tingling feeling in the tips of your fingers and toes, when you suddenly realize at a tender teen age you’ve fallen for someone for the very first time. Just the sight of them makes you feel giddy, makes you feel sick, makes you feel completely and totally alive. You hang round them, not knowing what to say, feeling utterly helpless – hoping they’ll notice you and somehow read it in your fraught expression; they’ll run over and take you in their arms, hold you close, stroke your hair and tell you they feel exactly the same for you as you do for them. Then you’ll both live together forever – happily ever after.
This is how I felt about Sue…
I must’ve been about fourteen. Sue was round the same age, she lived with my mate’s family, must’ve been adopted or something because she had the most beautiful tan skin – like a dusky Amazonian maiden. It started off with a vague attraction, but after a couple of weeks I was completely and totally in love with Sue. Whenever I went to visit my mate, Martin, usually on the flimsy pretext that I wanted to kick his arse at Street Fighter, I’d spend my time stealing the occasional glimpse at Sue as she sat on the sofa, a mild look of amusement on her face, whenever she caught me looking at her. And she had such beautiful eyes. Such gorgeous eyes, filled with summer days and deep dark depths. God, Sue was beautiful. And so reserved, so ladylike. Not at all like the usual slags you used to find round my neighborhood who’d let you finger them for a Peperammi and a bag of Monster Munch.
After a month or so I still hadn’t actually plucked up the courage to speak directly to Sue. I was crushed inside. Completely incapable of forming vowel sounds, my breath would just catch in my throat. I think Martin was starting to see something between the two of us. He’d look at me strangely as if to say: Try anything with her and I’ll kick your arse, you dirty little prick! And the danger of all this just made me want Sue more. It was like Romeo and Juliet, only set in a shitty backward part of Coventry instead.
Then one day after beating the crap out of Martin while playing as that big green fucker while he was the fit bird with the nice tits, Martin got a bit of a cob on and decided to fuck off to the shops to pick up a bag of Maltesers and some small blue Rizla. And that’s when it happened. I was alone with Sue. I went to speak. Couldn’t. Shit! I was completely paralyzed with fear. Then, soundlessly, Sue sauntered over to me, turned round, and presented her fine, slightly muscular arse to me. She wiggled it from side to side. Well, fuck me… I put down the Nintendo controller, turned round and – hands shaking – grabbed her gently round the rear and nuzzled my nose against her sweet smelling bumhole. God, Sue was hot. She remained silent as I slowly, ever-so-carefully, eased my tongue inside her tight chocolate starfish. Jesus, this was WRONG! This was so fucking wrong! But it tasted so good. Sue wriggled down onto my lips, a strange contented sound escaping from her mouth, she started to pant as I increased the speed of my probing tongue and then –
Martin burst in the room. He decided he couldn’t be fucked going to the shops so found us, Sue and I, locked together like some kind of sexy jigsaw puzzle. Martin went absolutely apeshit. Sue was more alert than me, she legged it into the garden leaving me to deal with Martin, who was attempting to remove my head from my shoulders. I managed to evade most of his punches, sprint past him, and make like Linford Christie up the road.
Eventually I slowed, caught my breath. My hard on was subsiding despite the taste of Sue’s anus that still hung heavily in my mouth, driving me wild, making me want her more. Then I started the long trudge home. My friendship with Martin was almost certainly over. I knew I’d probably never see Sue again. Sue. Sue. SUE!!! Ahhh, lovely, amazing, beautifil, gorgeous, SUE!!! I suddenly felt silly, I felt incredibly childish, and that’s when it sort of occurred to me for the first time - Sue was a pretty damn stupid name for a pit bull terrier….
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 11:51, 7 replies)
I think we all know the completely hopeless feeling that washes over you like a sudden and terrible frost, spreading from your internal organs and ending with a strange tingling feeling in the tips of your fingers and toes, when you suddenly realize at a tender teen age you’ve fallen for someone for the very first time. Just the sight of them makes you feel giddy, makes you feel sick, makes you feel completely and totally alive. You hang round them, not knowing what to say, feeling utterly helpless – hoping they’ll notice you and somehow read it in your fraught expression; they’ll run over and take you in their arms, hold you close, stroke your hair and tell you they feel exactly the same for you as you do for them. Then you’ll both live together forever – happily ever after.
This is how I felt about Sue…
I must’ve been about fourteen. Sue was round the same age, she lived with my mate’s family, must’ve been adopted or something because she had the most beautiful tan skin – like a dusky Amazonian maiden. It started off with a vague attraction, but after a couple of weeks I was completely and totally in love with Sue. Whenever I went to visit my mate, Martin, usually on the flimsy pretext that I wanted to kick his arse at Street Fighter, I’d spend my time stealing the occasional glimpse at Sue as she sat on the sofa, a mild look of amusement on her face, whenever she caught me looking at her. And she had such beautiful eyes. Such gorgeous eyes, filled with summer days and deep dark depths. God, Sue was beautiful. And so reserved, so ladylike. Not at all like the usual slags you used to find round my neighborhood who’d let you finger them for a Peperammi and a bag of Monster Munch.
After a month or so I still hadn’t actually plucked up the courage to speak directly to Sue. I was crushed inside. Completely incapable of forming vowel sounds, my breath would just catch in my throat. I think Martin was starting to see something between the two of us. He’d look at me strangely as if to say: Try anything with her and I’ll kick your arse, you dirty little prick! And the danger of all this just made me want Sue more. It was like Romeo and Juliet, only set in a shitty backward part of Coventry instead.
Then one day after beating the crap out of Martin while playing as that big green fucker while he was the fit bird with the nice tits, Martin got a bit of a cob on and decided to fuck off to the shops to pick up a bag of Maltesers and some small blue Rizla. And that’s when it happened. I was alone with Sue. I went to speak. Couldn’t. Shit! I was completely paralyzed with fear. Then, soundlessly, Sue sauntered over to me, turned round, and presented her fine, slightly muscular arse to me. She wiggled it from side to side. Well, fuck me… I put down the Nintendo controller, turned round and – hands shaking – grabbed her gently round the rear and nuzzled my nose against her sweet smelling bumhole. God, Sue was hot. She remained silent as I slowly, ever-so-carefully, eased my tongue inside her tight chocolate starfish. Jesus, this was WRONG! This was so fucking wrong! But it tasted so good. Sue wriggled down onto my lips, a strange contented sound escaping from her mouth, she started to pant as I increased the speed of my probing tongue and then –
Martin burst in the room. He decided he couldn’t be fucked going to the shops so found us, Sue and I, locked together like some kind of sexy jigsaw puzzle. Martin went absolutely apeshit. Sue was more alert than me, she legged it into the garden leaving me to deal with Martin, who was attempting to remove my head from my shoulders. I managed to evade most of his punches, sprint past him, and make like Linford Christie up the road.
Eventually I slowed, caught my breath. My hard on was subsiding despite the taste of Sue’s anus that still hung heavily in my mouth, driving me wild, making me want her more. Then I started the long trudge home. My friendship with Martin was almost certainly over. I knew I’d probably never see Sue again. Sue. Sue. SUE!!! Ahhh, lovely, amazing, beautifil, gorgeous, SUE!!! I suddenly felt silly, I felt incredibly childish, and that’s when it sort of occurred to me for the first time - Sue was a pretty damn stupid name for a pit bull terrier….
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 11:51, 7 replies)
Look ! A story -
Teenage crush..
She recently 'Friended' me on Facebook. She was looking for photographs from school. She is married with children, living in the US and to all appearances, deliriously, indeed even smugly (in that married-with-children way all married-with-children people you once knew seem to be) happy with her lot in life.
I knew nothing about this girl but age 14-16 (I think), I had idealised and idolised and eventually idolatised this girl into some sublime, seraphic sybarite of whom I was utterly not worthy and all this without ever speaking a word to her.
It was the early 90's. Grunge ruled the world - there was lots of hair, (fake) leather and torn denim permitting glimpses of forbidden tracts of flesh. She had that singularly pale/pink flesh-tone possessed only of Irish women. Her hair was white and orange fire - strawberry blonde in the more common parlance, its' lengthy tresses flapping and blowing in the wind like wings as she crossed the schoolyard. Her electric blue eyes, piercing and joyous as she laughed at my childish jokes lifted my heart and spurred me on.
I never spoke to her directly. I merely caught glimpses of her looks in the crowds I entertained. I was never shy in groups or with an audience but left alone with girls, I was dumbstruck.
I was cool, but not popular, long-haired, clad frequently in black, perma-possessed of a record bag and coccooned in a gang of like-minded individuals - we walked the tightrope of rebellion and reality - we were rational enough to ensure our exams were all passed but still went out on Saturdays to rock bars, gigs and such, drank and smoked dope and occasionally, pulled girls!
She was on the outskirts of the popular gang. Not rich enough to have access to the inner circle but pretty enough to be granted satellite status. She attended all the school parties but never went out with any of the popular boys.
I think I might have thought I stood that one fleeting chance in hell of her actually responding to my entreaties. These entreaties took the form of ten flawlessly constructed Shakespearian sonnets bound in a plastic folder which was the most luxurious and opulent I could afford (by which I mean, steal).
Finding myself effectively mute before the monochromosomed, I couldn't have presented this golden gift to my exquisite angel myself.
Instead I enlisted the services of another of my lust-ridden, youthful desires - the one whose rejection was yet to come when I mistook genuine friendship for romance some years later.
So what happened with the recipient of my ten flawlessly-constructed Shakespearian sonnets?
Nothing - the usual rhetoric of rejection.
rafter
baz
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 11:23, 2 replies)
Teenage crush..
She recently 'Friended' me on Facebook. She was looking for photographs from school. She is married with children, living in the US and to all appearances, deliriously, indeed even smugly (in that married-with-children way all married-with-children people you once knew seem to be) happy with her lot in life.
I knew nothing about this girl but age 14-16 (I think), I had idealised and idolised and eventually idolatised this girl into some sublime, seraphic sybarite of whom I was utterly not worthy and all this without ever speaking a word to her.
It was the early 90's. Grunge ruled the world - there was lots of hair, (fake) leather and torn denim permitting glimpses of forbidden tracts of flesh. She had that singularly pale/pink flesh-tone possessed only of Irish women. Her hair was white and orange fire - strawberry blonde in the more common parlance, its' lengthy tresses flapping and blowing in the wind like wings as she crossed the schoolyard. Her electric blue eyes, piercing and joyous as she laughed at my childish jokes lifted my heart and spurred me on.
I never spoke to her directly. I merely caught glimpses of her looks in the crowds I entertained. I was never shy in groups or with an audience but left alone with girls, I was dumbstruck.
I was cool, but not popular, long-haired, clad frequently in black, perma-possessed of a record bag and coccooned in a gang of like-minded individuals - we walked the tightrope of rebellion and reality - we were rational enough to ensure our exams were all passed but still went out on Saturdays to rock bars, gigs and such, drank and smoked dope and occasionally, pulled girls!
She was on the outskirts of the popular gang. Not rich enough to have access to the inner circle but pretty enough to be granted satellite status. She attended all the school parties but never went out with any of the popular boys.
I think I might have thought I stood that one fleeting chance in hell of her actually responding to my entreaties. These entreaties took the form of ten flawlessly constructed Shakespearian sonnets bound in a plastic folder which was the most luxurious and opulent I could afford (by which I mean, steal).
Finding myself effectively mute before the monochromosomed, I couldn't have presented this golden gift to my exquisite angel myself.
Instead I enlisted the services of another of my lust-ridden, youthful desires - the one whose rejection was yet to come when I mistook genuine friendship for romance some years later.
So what happened with the recipient of my ten flawlessly-constructed Shakespearian sonnets?
Nothing - the usual rhetoric of rejection.
rafter
baz
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 11:23, 2 replies)
I suppose I should get around to
posting the conclusion to this
www.b3ta.com/questions/teenagecrushes/post561226
So, please read that first if you haven't already. Again, it's a long post, so it's in the reply.
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 11:12, 12 replies)
posting the conclusion to this
www.b3ta.com/questions/teenagecrushes/post561226
So, please read that first if you haven't already. Again, it's a long post, so it's in the reply.
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 11:12, 12 replies)
Film and football
First wank: to Helen Mirren in Excalibur
First male crush: Ryan Giggs posing topless in The Sunday Times.
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 10:54, Reply)
First wank: to Helen Mirren in Excalibur
First male crush: Ryan Giggs posing topless in The Sunday Times.
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 10:54, Reply)
Leslie Ash
Had quite a thing for her throughout my teenage years; Back in her Men Behaving Badly days, before she got old and decided to have the lips of a salmon transplanted onto her face.
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 10:26, 2 replies)
Had quite a thing for her throughout my teenage years; Back in her Men Behaving Badly days, before she got old and decided to have the lips of a salmon transplanted onto her face.
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 10:26, 2 replies)
Any semi-decent females I saw in my youth
TV presenters,
Cartoons,
Pop stars,
Models,
Famous people,
Girls walking down the street,
Friends moms/sisters,
My sister's friends.
Basicly anything with boobs.
Young male hormones, what can you do?
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 10:25, Reply)
TV presenters,
Cartoons,
Pop stars,
Models,
Famous people,
Girls walking down the street,
Friends moms/sisters,
My sister's friends.
Basicly anything with boobs.
Young male hormones, what can you do?
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 10:25, Reply)
Sci-fi men
Sci-fi took up a lot of my tv time as a teen and as such i had crushes on Patrick Stewart (and still do, despite the fact he is old enough to be my grandad. Also he has a lovely voice and i could listen to him talk for hours) and Dr Daniel Jackson from Stargate SG1. Mmm, intelligent and attractive, definately a winner! Spok from the latest Star Trek film is a current favourite.
Also, after watching Dangerous Liasons i had a thing for John Malkovich. He also has a lovely voice. I'm not sure i still would though.
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 10:19, Reply)
Sci-fi took up a lot of my tv time as a teen and as such i had crushes on Patrick Stewart (and still do, despite the fact he is old enough to be my grandad. Also he has a lovely voice and i could listen to him talk for hours) and Dr Daniel Jackson from Stargate SG1. Mmm, intelligent and attractive, definately a winner! Spok from the latest Star Trek film is a current favourite.
Also, after watching Dangerous Liasons i had a thing for John Malkovich. He also has a lovely voice. I'm not sure i still would though.
( , Mon 9 Nov 2009, 10:19, Reply)
This question is now closed.