Gay Dave
I went to uni in Bangor at the age of 18, I ended up dropping out and nearly joining the police. I didn’t and I ended up going back to uni in Manchester, then MSc in Lancaster and soon to start a PhD at Cranfield. Anyway, I digress.

I cant remember how I met this guy, but I did. His name was Dave, I referred to him to my friends as Gay Dave, seeing as he was the only gay bloke we knew, and we knew many other Daves.

Gay Dave was intense. In my 1st year he would call me and ask me to go round to his flat to have a drink and watch a film, which I would think was because I thought we were mates. I also thought I was being dead grown up being friends with a gay guy. My tipple at the time was Southern Comfort and Lemonade, he would buy a new bottle each time I went round for me to have a drink, and would always cook a full roast dinner. In my naivety I thought he was just being a nice guy.

He told me lots about his past. One time he told me about his ex-boyfriend Rob. Apparently Rob liked to dress as a baby when they were getting it on. Apparently Dave liked it. He also told me that he had been banned from returning to his home town because he was some sort of gangster (I didn’t believe it for a second). With many other things that happened it slowly dawned on me that he was a bit scary. At the time I wasn’t very good at fu$king people off. I didn’t, and still don’t, like to offend people. At the end of the year he bought me a £50 summer ball ticket for my birthday, even though he wouldn’t be going. I went home for the summer, he stayed in Bangor. Over this summer holiday I started to go out with a girl who was one of my best friends.

I didn’t see him until I moved back up there for my 2nd year. I of course went to see my ‘mate’ and catch up. After a while, and a few drinks, he told me he had always liked my legs, and wanted to touch them. I said no of course. He then told me that my girlfriend would not be faithful to me and that her and my two other best friends (who I lived with) all laughed at me behind my back. I made my excuses and left.

I went home and told my girlfriend, I felt really shit and had a bit of a cry. I never answered a call from him again, and if I saw him in the street I would run away. Four years later, my life feels better without that scary, scary bloke.
( JimmyD I let my best ideas go to waste, Tue 1 Aug 2006, 1:22, Reply)