Me
I've done this myself I'm afraid - Well, not so much the "We have to talk" as "You really have to get on that train and fuck off out of my life".

Ok, the "fuck off out off my life part" was in my head, but she really did totally wreck my head and ultimately destroyed my self-confidence for 2 years....

(Here's the proof: www.b3ta.com/questions/pleasesleepwithme/post76810/)
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Sat 21 Apr 2007, 15:04, Reply)

As sure as egges are eggs...
...the next words are always:

"It's not you, it's me..."

Ok then. So go get therapy.
(beaverwastemanagement a real company. I want to work for them!, Sat 21 Apr 2007, 14:30, Reply)

deathly question
My grandfather had recently died. Then a few weks later my wife's grandfather died as well.

I accompanied her to the funeral. During the service and burial I had my mobile off. Afterward, as we sat with my wife's family I switched it on and heard a voicemail from my mum, in a very serious tone: "Woodchopper, could you call me back as soon as you can, there's something I need to talk to you about".

I did that and when she answered the phone she said in an even more serious voice "I realise that this is probably the last thing you want to hear about right now ...."

My heart stopped. Its another death isn't it? My brother was in a pile-up, or maybe my dad's heart has given out. What else would be so important tha she had to call in the middle of a funeral.

Then she said "I've got the measurements of that table of your grandad's that you wanted. Have you got a pen and paper handy?"

Not good timing.
(woodchopper likes chopping wood, Sat 21 Apr 2007, 14:01, Reply)

Insecure Father
Those dreaded words have nearly always come out of my rather neurotic father's mouth.

I remember one time when he entered my room with a particularly grim look on his face, his moustache positively bristling with disappointment. When he said 'We have to talk...' as he shut my door and thus my exit, my mind began racing as to what he may have found out.

Had he found my stash of weed?
Had he heard my boyfriend and I having sex in my room?
Had he somehow managed to hack into my computer and thus divulge some unsavoury information about myself which I could not remember?

No, it was none of those. In fact, what he said wasn't even on my list of possibilities, let alone on the bottom of it.

'You don't love me any more *sniff*...etc'

WTF

'Er, yeah I do Dad *uncomfortable*' I said with what I hoped was an encouraging smile. He then moped off and sulked for the rest of the day.

He still does this from time to time. Maybe someone's been poisoning his food with oestrogen or something.
(Sir_Psycho, Sat 21 Apr 2007, 11:30, Reply)

powerful words
This topic is fairly amusing to me because I realise the power of the words "we need to talk".

I had long distance relationships for some of the time with my last 2 boyfriends and I often said "I really need to talk to you when I next see you" on the phone. It was always about something else I was worried about, uni, family, the fact I missed the guys, but they would freak out and try and force me to talk over the phone (which I couldnt as it was in the living room surrounded by my housemates). I had to reassure them about 5 times but still encountered the look of panic when I met up with them.

I learnt to rephrase the question after a while...
(Everlong, Sat 21 Apr 2007, 10:15, Reply)

my break-up conversation with Richard Branson
"Look Richard, all I'm saying is that it's unfair that I blow you all the time, and I never get any back"

(Richard mumbles)

"Yeah, well, you're gonna have to make a choice - save our relationship, or keep your virgin airway, and...whaddya mean that gives you an idea? Come back here!"
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sat 21 Apr 2007, 7:42, Reply)

My Dad
and I never really had the 'father-son talks.'

When I first having sex, and my mother decided that we should have 'the talk' it went something like this...

Dad: Son-
MrTeapot: Dad, I know what your going to say, can we pretend like it we've already discussed this?
Dad: Works for me.
(MrTeapot hasn't played with himself since, Sat 21 Apr 2007, 2:15, Reply)

My top 3.
I've got a few of these, now that I think about it.

WNTT (We Need To Talk) #1.
My grandmother's a lovely old thing, nuttier than squirrel shit, but nice. So during my visit to see her, this conversation ensued with her delightfully fractured English.
Gran: I you, talk now, yes?
Me: Sure gran, what do you want to talk about?
Gran: *holding my hands firmly and a serious look on her face* My birthday, you give me great-grand children, yes?

Somehow I managed not to laugh in her face.


WNTT #2
My mother (daughter of the aforementioned grandmother) has always been the shy type, especially on subjects relating to how the uh... finer points of the female body work once puberty hits.
Mum: is0lati0n, could we have a few words? Do you know what this is? *brandishing a (clean - why did I feel the need to point that out? Because you're filthy bastards) tampon as if it was a dead mouse*
Me: Mum, I'm 20. I've had my period for years.
Mum: Oh.

Thanks mum! Better late then never, right? Oh, I guess not.


WNTT #3
Ahh, finally one about an ex. It should be noted that this event was what started him stalking me. Let's call him Twat, since that's what he acts like.
Twat: Look, we need to talk.
Me: Fine, talk.
Twat: *insert some rant about how I'm so awful, blah blah blah, I've probably cheated on him... hang on, is that a scarf around his neck? In summer?*
Me: Sorry to interrupt, Twat, but well... *pulls off his scarf to reveal some rather nasty looking hickeys that I had nothing to do with* We need to talk.
Twat: Hold on, that has NOTHING to do wi...
Me: I'll see you later then? *goes home*

On second thought, perhaps saying I'd see him later really wasn't a good idea.



Length? Call me Vlad the Impaler.
( is0lati0n, Sat 21 Apr 2007, 0:57, Reply)

PJM
You fail to understand why? This may offer up some explanation. Or maybe some solace.

www.choppingblock.org/d/20070214.html
( flake has nothing against your right leg, Sat 21 Apr 2007, 0:50, Reply)

The talk
Gah, why is it that when I'm fresh from the gym, sat on the sofa with a beer and watching the documentary on Spitfires I've been looking forward to all week, the female in my life decides that this is the appropriate time for "the talk". These two words cover any subject from her immediate intention to spawn a brood of children to the typical "where are we going as a couple?" discussion.

The teeth gnashingly annoying thing about this is that there is no swift conclusion to "the talk". I will be engaged in delicate negotiation for the next four hours, which probably will involve some or all of my half-interested responses being misconstrued and will definitely involve tears and shouting of some description. It matters not a jot that I might genuinely love the person I'm sat next to. Oh no, my every word or even guttoral snort is dissected ad nauseum.

I have been in relationships where "the talk" has occurred every fucking time I've clicked on the Discovery/History channel and when my resolve has been weakened by a six minute mile having just been run.

It has NEVER taken place midway through Moulin Rouge, My Best Friends Wedding or The Sound of Fucking Music. Not once. I've sat there out of politeness with my will to exist ebbing from my soul, wishing for swift deliverance from the ceaseless effluvial deluge from the screen drowning my soul, to the point where I really do give a fuck about what names we might give the delinquent shits I'll be blackmailed into donating my genes to. At this point in time "the talk" would actually be a weclome diversion. But no dice.

"The talk" always occurs when I am at my most vulnerable.

The response "fuck off, I want to watch the Spitfires" is so easily interpreted as "I cannot see a future for us, we both want such different things from life. By the way, you're fat".

I fail to understand why.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Sat 21 Apr 2007, 0:41, Reply)

Three days in...
Three days in he said that we needed to talk and then ended it. It wasn't even officially anything...but hearing those words sent a chill running through me. I thought it was going so well.

Even though it was only three days, I still can't stop thinking about him. I wish I'd talked to him but when he said those words, I lost all mine. I emailed him, but it's not the same, and now, a couple of months later, I still think about it.

Damn words.
(mistressminimas is absolutely insane, Sat 21 Apr 2007, 0:26, Reply)

Ultimate tragedy...
"We have to talk..." said she.

We talked, for 6 cocking hours.

I almost shot myself.
(Good Looking Deity Grew a magnificent beard on, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 23:15, Reply)

I actually have no answer
So i will tell you a story insted...

BOOM went the sound of another penis colliding against our tin shelter
"we cant stay here forever you know!" said I. "We have to go soon before we get coverd in spooge!"
"calm down dear" said you. "
"I dont care, im sick of staying in this hut. Im going to take my chances out there!"
"Fine, go." he said. "but you do know that spooge can burn through skin like piss goes through an ice sculpture."
"DAMN YOU TO THE BLOODY BOWLS OF HELL YOU CHUFFED VAGINA"
Suddenly, a gigantic wang fell from the sky and crushed you, her and us. I will never forget that moment. To see my friends get MELTED infront of me as spooge leaked out of the cock. And the smell...It was like a mix of vinegar and rape.
I ran. I got out of that tin hut and ran as far and as fast as I could, trying to ignore the fear and spooge coated planet that was once my home. Bodies lay in the street, and knobs flew around in the sky. I narrowly avoides being hit by the Thick milk which ran through the sewers replacing human fecies.
Eventualy, I fought my way into an abandoned fire station.
There I saw a fit fireman and do you know what he said?

"Im gonna rape you."

WE need to talk?

Sorry for wasting your time, But i really dont have an answer.
(abignumber, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 23:07, Reply)

Er
I have a story, but it's ongoing and I'm not sure that I should publicise it.

On the other hand, I've got lots of wine in and I might share in a little bit....

Drink is the curse of the devil. It makes you shoot at your landlord - and it makes you miss....
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 22:56, Reply)

i'm afraid me and the love of my life...
...tend to have a bit of a Heathcliff/Cathy relationship, usually at, ahem, certain phases of the moon. Surprised he puts up with me sometimes, but he can be just as bad. So the 'talk' conversation happens quite often, but it's usually pretty productive until either the hormones start, or he goes on a week's bender (like this week - we've been having 'the talk' every night since monday. oh the joy.) Anyway, a proper sacrifice is required here.

I once went out with a bloke who I got on great with, had plenty of chemistry, and his mates liked me. He did, however, have a habit of desperately trying to sleep with me, which was only endearing on the first attempt. After that, walking into his flat and his greeting consisting of walking into the bedroom stripping... just a bit unsubtle, i find.

However, hormones+christmas*=not good relationship start-out material. Having said that, randomly deciding not to even send a text over the entire christmas period - was it wrong for me to be *slightly* pissed at him?

So, I called him. Told him, yes, we needed to talk. It was a truly pathetic conversation. He was 'ill'. He 'forgot'. He was 'busy'.

All of this I would've bought, were it not for the giggling tart in the background.

Stupid bastard.

EDIT: in writing this, it has just dawned on me - this was the only 'we need to talk' conversation I've ever had. Outside of the mad, sexy, lovely man I have now, of course, who is worth every bonkers moment. But otherwise, I seemed to have only been dumped via complete silence from the other party. Is that a good thing?

*I tend to go a bit loopy at christmas. This is due to my insane family who I always had to put up with, but these days as we get to choose where it's spent, I have begun to normalise...
(niceandwarmandhot vive la résistance, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 22:40, Reply)

4 words, 300 miles
My girlfriend of 2 years had just started at Uni in Durham, I was in third year in London....lots of (in retrospect) vague "I'll come to London once a month or so and you come to Durham once a month" deal-mongering.

First time we try this it's me travelling to Durham, hadn't even been in her place for more than a few minutes when I get the immortal four words. Had to stick around all weekend as my return train ticket wasn't valid for the weekends. Not exactly the most fun weekend of my life.

Would have saved me a load of money (for a student) and heartache and resentment if she'd just picked up the phone and told me, AND I would have another story for a QOTW about 'have you ever been dumped by phone?'
(Thomas_The_Spankengine, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 22:37, Reply)

The final of three messy relationships...
After the first two, I should have learnt… But a simpler one that Engagement or Weddings. We had the “expected” chat which resulted in me being dumped by my girlfriend for another woman.

I had a slight upturn in relationships when my forth girlfriend was a lesbian before going out with me. So its not all bad.

Still single now though…
(gristy Twice as a rabbit, but oh, how a reputation sticks, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 22:29, Reply)

The Second of three messy relationships...
Not really spoken, but written.
For three years, I was seeing a lovely but slightly older lady. We were even living together for the first two and a bit years of that until she had to move to the wonderful lands of Exeter for University (as a mature student). I was unable to move with her at that point and remained an hour north of London. For the next nine months, thing went well. I would visit her for the weekend and she would come back up to me a few weekends later and we would do the things any couple would do if they hadn’t seen each other for a few weeks. We would also write to each other every couple of days (with stamps as the mole people hadn’t dug the tunnels for the interweb to work in Exeter at that time). Anyhoo, the final letter I received started as all others had “Dear John” for that tis my name, “things here are fine” etcetera, It went on for a little while with standard pleasantries until the killer line, “By the way, I got married last week, so it wont be appropriate for us to visit each other any more. Please say hello to your mum for me”… Worse thing, She married a man with the same name as me!
(gristy Twice as a rabbit, but oh, how a reputation sticks, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 22:28, Reply)

The first of three messy relationships...
Two and a half years of fun and (I understood) successful relationship with my partner and one evening I look down at her hand and see a new piece of ornamental metal gartering her finger. Not being the best person at understanding and remembering what finger represents what sort of occasion I simply ask “That’s new, whats that for?”
The classic response came back as I felt a knot forming in my stomach.
“Andy” for that was my best mates name at the time, “proposed to me yesterday.”
“So why the ring?” was my rather slow response.
“well, I accepted. We’re getting married next June.”
Naturally, I had a breakup shag straight afterwards.
(gristy Twice as a rabbit, but oh, how a reputation sticks, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 22:28, Reply)

Talk.
Thebest way to 'talk' is after you got laid.
Use it, dump it.
(Bohine, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 21:47, Reply)

You lucky, LUCKY, Bastards
Because last time round I did'nt even get the "we need to talk."

In our busy local she smacked me down. Very, VERY hard on the right cheekbone.

My glasses became a 3-D Escher-esque structure and reliable independent witnesses have since related that my 5'7", 12 stone self described a perfect parabola before landing in a heap some six feet from where I started.

So, my chickadees, there are far, far worse things lurking at the arse-end of relationships than "we need to talk."
( The Disappointed Caravanner of the year, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 21:31, Reply)

Birds, Bees and Father...
I'm 17 and going to a house party that night. It's the party of the year and everyone's going to be there inc. the girl I'd been foolin' around with the last few weeks. Just as I'm leaving I hear a shout from my Dads room...

"We need To Talk!"

I walk up the stairs dreading what is going to come of this "Talk". It goes something like this...

"Hi, have a seat, we need to talk. You've come to that stage in your life where... er... your older and er.. are wanting to...

Let me start again... You know when your really hungry, like your gonna eat somethin OR ELSE... and there's a massive cream cake just sitting there waiting for you to tuck in, you know, a top notch, all the goods; icing, cream, sprinkles and ofcourse a cherry on top kinda cream cake. Well... all I'm askin my Son is before you do anythin else... Get A Spoon!!! I mean, you don't wanna get your fingers dirty now, do ya?!"

I haven't taken him serious since.

Regards,

Narna xXxXx
(narna ... the cunning linguist, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 21:06, Reply)

I don't remember how it started
but I remember how it finished. I don't even remember what I said, but she said
"Is that meant to be funny?"
I never saw her after that.
( krang, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 20:38, Reply)

Weasel
The last Mrs. Flake was a piece of work. I've got to admit, she certainly saw me coming. And not just because it sprayed her eyes, either.

After finally waking up to the fact that she was swindling me (to the tune of £10,000 by the time I woke up) I threatened to cut off the supply of money, on the pretext that "if we're going to get a house it's going to cost a fair amount of cash up front, cash which I'll need to save."

I was half-tempted to 'fess up and say I'd had enough and good riddance, but I figured I'd weasel out and encourage her to do the chucking. Keep the moral high ground, and all that. Or at least keep the "oh, woe is me, I've been dumped" opportunity for some sympathy. (Bit difficult to get sympathy for being dumped when you're grinning broadly when telling people, but that's by the by.)

Anyway, after the supply of money stopped, so did the communication. After several curt conversations followed by a week of blissful silence from her I figured the time was ripe for a "chat". So I called her up and said the immortal words which are the subject of this week's question. After dodging the issue for several minutes she finally came clean and said she wanted out. Result! I could barely keep the serious tone to my voice when I said goodbye, I was grinning that hugely. Haven't heard from her since, and my bank balance is swelling monthly. Well, it would be if it wasn't for all the toys I've been buying. But at least the money's going on me and not her.

Fuck's sake. Ten grand. And the sex wasn't even that great. If I was going to blow that much I could at least have gone to some professionals for some truly pornographic memories.

Still, I suppose I can't be the first person to use "we have to talk" as a way to engineer the other person into doing the dumping.
( flake has nothing against your right leg, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 20:00, Reply)

Regarding Kristen...
I've often said that it's too bad that my cat is another species, as so far she's the only female to consistently share my bed without giving me a bad time...
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 20 Apr 2007, 19:50, Reply)

Kristin
I remember the first time one of my ex-girlfriends sprung the "We need to talk" line. You know that feeling guys? It's going well and you just shit yourself. Did she find out about your bit on the side? Did she find your porn stash? Did she see the light on the camera you set up last week to film yourself bumming her? Your thoughts go about 100 miles per hour, wondering what the fuck she's gonna say.

"What is it?" I ask sweetly, trying to mask the 'Oh fucks!' thoughts in my mind.

"I've seen you."

This line annoys me. 'I've seen you.' Have you? Really? So you're not fucking blind? Obviously I didn't say that - "What do you mean?"

"With Kristin."

Oh shit. The moment she says that, you're beginning to wonder to what extent she's seen you. Has she seen you flirting with her? Has she seen you having a look at her arse? Has she seen you hugging her a bit too closely? Has she seen you fucking the senses out of her? You could go with 'What did you see?', but that's suspicious. Instead I asked "Whatever do you mean?", perhaps too strained.

"On your phone."

Shit. The video!

"That video you took of you boning her while you were pissed a couple of weeks ago! Don't think I haven't seen it you deceitful fuck!"

I can't work my way out of this one, can I?

"Baby ..." I start, but as is the case, I'm cut off.

"Don't 'baby' me! I know the way everyone looks at her! With such affection! She's so likeable! I know how you think she's fit! I've seen you watching her arse, knowing how high it is!"

I'm lost for words. But that doesn't matter, because this teary wreck is still going!

"You want me to have an arse like hers? It's not even that nice, it's just high in the air and she shows it off! That's what you like, isn't it!" She's grabbing her arse now, pulling it up. "You like that, do you!?"

Oh dear.

"And you on the video, saying about how you love the shape of her nipples! What the fuck is wrong with mine?" She's got her tits out now, pinching and pulling at her nipples. "Like this? What about this? Do I need my nipples like this!?"

I just stand there, with my mouth hanging. What the fuck would you do?

"You like her black hair do you? You want me to dye mine black? BLACK LIKE YOUR HEART!?" she shrieks, her face red, puffy and wet with salty tears. "I can have black hair! I can be just like Kristin!"

I'm still speechless.

"You were saying that you loved that pussy!" she pulled her trousers and underwear down. The painters are in. It's horrible. "How do you want me to have my pussy? Hairy and horrible? Shaven and well-kept? You wanted me to be flexible and lick myself out?" She bends forward and comes back up, blood all over her mouth and cheeks. "How do you like that, you cunt!?"

"Baby ..." I say, going to place my hand on her shoulder. She just bats it off.

"Don't touch me!" she yells, blubbering. She stops, making those crying sounds you make, then looks up at me and yells again. "I'm leaving! It's over, you disgusting, cat-fucking freak!" She storms out.

I just stood silently, unaware of what to do, before, a few moments later, comes a gentle 'mew' from beside me. I look down to my black cat, who looks back up at me.

"You always make me feel better, Kristin." I say. What a fucking great pussy.
(ratthingbazzterd, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 19:21, Reply)

I got a new motorbike.
A nice shiny 125.

Totally brand new, and all gleaming.

Got a text from my gf, asking me to come over. I didn't really want to, as it was raining and blowing a gale, and she lived on a farm down a muddy track in the middle of nowhere. I wanted to keep my new bike in that 'showroom new' condition as long as poss.

Still, she was cool and she sounded upset, so I rode out. Got soaked to the skin and covered in mud and my new bike now looked like I just crossed Africa on it.

Rang doorbell.

'We need to talk..'

Yup she dumped me. She looked at me to see my reaction as she told me.

I was furious.
She could have told me that ON THE BLOODY PHONE!
(inflateable, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 19:02, Reply)

Connie
I sat down beside her, desperate for a serious chat. "We have to talk," I said. She just looked at me blankly. I sighed, and hung my head in my hands, thinking of what to say.

"I just don't think things are working out between us lately," I said, looking around the room, staring at the wilting flowers on the table by the wall.

"Ever since you met your friend, that doctor, you've just seemed so distant with me," I explained, tears filling my eyes.

"You spend so much more time with him than me. I thought we were in love." I looked over to the photo of us together, smiling, sitting on the table.

"You don't look at me with those loving eyes you used to." She turns her head in my direction but looks through me, then back to the door and stares silently.

"You don't say a word to me. I don't think you even listen to what I'm saying." I pick up the photo of us.

"I know the sex has been lacking lately ... You just seem to lay there, completely still. That's why I've given up these past few weeks." I hide the porn mag behind me a bit more.

"You just lay there and don't do anything. You don't make any effort with me anymore, since you met your doctor friend." I'm crying now, looking at the photo.

"What's so great about him anyway? Why do you prefer him to me?" I raise my voice.

She opens her mouth, inhales slowly and exhales and keeps staring. Silence.

"I'm sorry, Connie." I place the photo face-down on the table and step up.

"I love you, but this is goodbye."

I walk out of the coma ward and go home.
(ratthingbazzterd, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 19:02, Reply)