High and slightly moist
I've had my fair share of crap trysts in my time, when the expectation of sexual nirvana has been rewarded with something as exciting as rummaging around in a bag of chips (metaphorically speaking it's been close to the mark once or twice). However, two particular instances of crushing disappointment spring to mind. The most recent I'm about to post, the second is causing me to wrestle with my conscience and may/may not be recorded here just yet.

Last year I'd been dating this one lass, who I must confess was very attractive in an athletic/dark brunette/cute nose kind of a way who suggested we meet for a few beers one Friday night. Now she lived in another town, so she suggested she crash on my sofa. Okay, we can see where this is going, but if I have one piece of advice to red blooded fellas out there it is NEVER assume that just because a lass is going to crash at your gaff, you're guarateed sexytime. It's just not the done thing.

Anyway, she arrived at my place and dumped her baggage off in my lounge before we headed out. Man, was she pretty... I was playing things cool and let the conversation flow all night before we grabbed a taxi back home. She'd had hold of my hand and reached over in the back of the cab, turned my chin to face her and started to kiss me.

Oh yeah! Within twenty minutes, we'd fallen through my front door and after an hour or so of fooling around on the sofa, we retired to the bedroom.

Hmm... Clothing was shed and industrial strength kissing continued. I was up for making a good impression so I slowly ventured south, taking time to admire the scenery en route. Now this isn't something I go about with the intention of doing a half hearted job oh no, anything less than a positive response is treated as a blow to the ego so I invested considerable time and effort in ensuring that she was happy with what I was doing. The fact that the volume level had increased markedly and that she was arching her back and grinding her pelvis into my face was an excellent sign so I continued until such point as I was beckoned North again.

I was feeling rather pleased with myself for all of ten seconds, until I was rewarded with an "mmmmm, that was nice" followed by a kiss to my cheek and within a few moments the unmistakeable sound of gentle lady snores.

Wha??? Had I missed something? I felt a sudden urge to say something barbed, but the fact that my tongue was on the point of cramping meant it would have come out as a Jonathan Ross-esque "Flobbidy, flub... Aha, awight" and the sentiment would have been lost in translation. Okay, I must confess that even if she had said "that was nice, anything I can do for you?" I'd probably have replied "no thank you" (or more accurately "Flubboo flubks), but it's the thought that counts. Meh.

Instead, I rolled over taking as much duvet as humanly possible and dozed off to sleep gently fuming.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Tue 19 Jun 2007, 13:08, Reply)