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» "You're doing it wrong"
Married women & saying the wrong thing.
Not all married women, just the few that I have been involved with, each time it was a complete disaster. I don't know why but I have always said the worst thing that completely fucks it up.
This is a long one but I have to get it off my chest as I cant tell my friends due to some of them knowing the other people involved.
Lisa was a woman I worked with for a few years when I was in my mid twenties, we got on well but nothing ever went beyond mild flirting as she was married. I did have crush on her, she looked a bit like a dirty(er) Martine McCutcheon, she also gave the impression of being filthy in bed, She moved on to a new job after a couple of years and that was that.
Four and a bit years later I bumped into her in town, we had a chat and decided to go for a drink, one drink lead to two, two lead to three and so on. Over the course of the evening we talked about the usual stuff, as the night wore on she told me that she had divorced her husband and was now married to another guy who we both had worked with (a total cunt btw), I said sorry about the divorce but good that she had someone new (didn't mention him being a cunt). Now at this point I would like to point out that I was not on the make, it was just nice to catch up.
So we leave the pub slightly less sober than when we entered and I escort her to a taxi, as we walk we swap numbers and promise to keep in touch. I hail a taxi and say goodnight, she leans in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek, then you know what happened next, everyone has been there - a slight brush of cheeks then a bit of a pause as we looked into each others eyes, then we started kissing like two frantic teenagers. This was rudely interrupted by the bastard taxi driver beeping his horn, we stopped and Lisa looked shocked, she said sorry got in the taxi and drove off, leaving me with an erection harder than a diamond.
On my way home I ponder what to do, should I leave it alone? should I send a text saying don't worry it was just the drinks we had? should I take the blame and say it was my fault? No I decided that I desperately wanted to bang her back teeth out so I was going to call her! No need, the following day she text-ed me and we arranged for her to come over to mine the following night, this lead to some fairly hectic shagging.
Over the next few months we went at it like primates whenever we got the chance, it became clear that her new husband was not bothered about her not coming home some nights, I didn't worry about that as I was just enjoying the fact that I had been correct, she was utterly filthy in the sack. this is what brought about the downfall.
During one of our sessions I was providing Lisa with manual stimulation when the opportunity arose to take it a little further, there is no polite way to say it so I will be blunt, I fisted her. This was a first for her (not for me, thats another QOTW) and after a moment of adjustment she grabbed my wrist and urged me to go for it. From there on she went wild, lets just say that after about ten minutes she was very satisfied & very tired.
So I try to take my had out of her, this causes another spasm, she looked and me and said she was too tired and she couldn't handle (pardon the pun) anymore, so I asked her to relax so I can have my hand back, second attempt to remove my hand results in her clamping down on my wrist like a vice. Every time I try to pull my hand out she has another orgasm, this leaves her whimpering and both of us laughing.
The laughs stopped after about five minutes of my hand being stuck, she had reached the point were any movement was too much and yet there was no way to get out. I'm sure at some point in your life you have had your hand stuck in something and you will remember the felling of mild panic that the situation incurs. Now imagine if instead of a vase or a drain your hand is in a woman.
I was trying to think of how to fix things when I remembered an episode of the simpsons when Homer gets his hand stuck in a vending machine and sees himself twenty years in the future dragging around the vending machine with his hand still stuck inside. I started to laugh, understandably Lisa was not finding anything funny, she asked what the fuck I was laughing at? now this is what I mean by doing it wrong, instead of comforting words or even just saying nothing, I replied " no don't worry its not you, I was thinking of Homer Simpson".
I think I knew straight away it was the wrong thing to say, this was reinforced by Lisa screaming "get your fucking hand out of me!" There followed several minutes of silence before the release of my hand could be effected.
So married women, trust me I am definitely doing it wrong.
(Thu 15th Jul 2010, 16:25, More)
Married women & saying the wrong thing.
Not all married women, just the few that I have been involved with, each time it was a complete disaster. I don't know why but I have always said the worst thing that completely fucks it up.
This is a long one but I have to get it off my chest as I cant tell my friends due to some of them knowing the other people involved.
Lisa was a woman I worked with for a few years when I was in my mid twenties, we got on well but nothing ever went beyond mild flirting as she was married. I did have crush on her, she looked a bit like a dirty(er) Martine McCutcheon, she also gave the impression of being filthy in bed, She moved on to a new job after a couple of years and that was that.
Four and a bit years later I bumped into her in town, we had a chat and decided to go for a drink, one drink lead to two, two lead to three and so on. Over the course of the evening we talked about the usual stuff, as the night wore on she told me that she had divorced her husband and was now married to another guy who we both had worked with (a total cunt btw), I said sorry about the divorce but good that she had someone new (didn't mention him being a cunt). Now at this point I would like to point out that I was not on the make, it was just nice to catch up.
So we leave the pub slightly less sober than when we entered and I escort her to a taxi, as we walk we swap numbers and promise to keep in touch. I hail a taxi and say goodnight, she leans in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek, then you know what happened next, everyone has been there - a slight brush of cheeks then a bit of a pause as we looked into each others eyes, then we started kissing like two frantic teenagers. This was rudely interrupted by the bastard taxi driver beeping his horn, we stopped and Lisa looked shocked, she said sorry got in the taxi and drove off, leaving me with an erection harder than a diamond.
On my way home I ponder what to do, should I leave it alone? should I send a text saying don't worry it was just the drinks we had? should I take the blame and say it was my fault? No I decided that I desperately wanted to bang her back teeth out so I was going to call her! No need, the following day she text-ed me and we arranged for her to come over to mine the following night, this lead to some fairly hectic shagging.
Over the next few months we went at it like primates whenever we got the chance, it became clear that her new husband was not bothered about her not coming home some nights, I didn't worry about that as I was just enjoying the fact that I had been correct, she was utterly filthy in the sack. this is what brought about the downfall.
During one of our sessions I was providing Lisa with manual stimulation when the opportunity arose to take it a little further, there is no polite way to say it so I will be blunt, I fisted her. This was a first for her (not for me, thats another QOTW) and after a moment of adjustment she grabbed my wrist and urged me to go for it. From there on she went wild, lets just say that after about ten minutes she was very satisfied & very tired.
So I try to take my had out of her, this causes another spasm, she looked and me and said she was too tired and she couldn't handle (pardon the pun) anymore, so I asked her to relax so I can have my hand back, second attempt to remove my hand results in her clamping down on my wrist like a vice. Every time I try to pull my hand out she has another orgasm, this leaves her whimpering and both of us laughing.
The laughs stopped after about five minutes of my hand being stuck, she had reached the point were any movement was too much and yet there was no way to get out. I'm sure at some point in your life you have had your hand stuck in something and you will remember the felling of mild panic that the situation incurs. Now imagine if instead of a vase or a drain your hand is in a woman.
I was trying to think of how to fix things when I remembered an episode of the simpsons when Homer gets his hand stuck in a vending machine and sees himself twenty years in the future dragging around the vending machine with his hand still stuck inside. I started to laugh, understandably Lisa was not finding anything funny, she asked what the fuck I was laughing at? now this is what I mean by doing it wrong, instead of comforting words or even just saying nothing, I replied " no don't worry its not you, I was thinking of Homer Simpson".
I think I knew straight away it was the wrong thing to say, this was reinforced by Lisa screaming "get your fucking hand out of me!" There followed several minutes of silence before the release of my hand could be effected.
So married women, trust me I am definitely doing it wrong.
(Thu 15th Jul 2010, 16:25, More)
» Lies that got out of control
I invented a friend
My most recent ladyfriend was a lovley woman called Amanda, we met through work, she was doing a presentation on health and safety (she went on to cut off part of my finger! - it was an accident I admit, and not really related to this story).
So Amanda and I had been going out for about three months when I began to feel very controlled, she had met all my friends, everyone I work with and knew my neighbours. The only person in her life that I was not on first name terms with was her postman. Amanda was great but she wanted to live in my pocket, so I came up with an idea to get some alone time.
My plan was simple, I invented a friend - meet Dave, my old mate from work years back. I told Amanda that my old friend Dave was back from living in Australia and I was meeting him, worked a treat, I got a night on my own to relax and all I had to do was tell a little fib, might have been fine if I had left it at that. Over the next few weeks Dave and I went out a couple of times, I wish I could say I spent these nights in a casino or a strip club to spice things up but the truth is I stayed home and drank beer while watching telly.
Problems began when Amanda wanted to meet Dave (should have seen it coming), I tried to fob her off hoping she would give up but it became a big deal for her, she was getting a bit upset so I started adding more lies, Dave was not good around strangers, Dave was a bit of a heavy drinker so it was not a good idea to meet up. Nothing worked, it became a mission for her to meet Dave.
This went on for about six weeks, now please consider that at the time I was drinking a bit too much so was used to lying. Also consider that I really did like Amanda - I did feel a little guilty for lying but once I started it was hard to get out.
So towards the end the lies had mounted up, little by little it all adds up, christ it was had work trying to keep track of it all. It reached the point were Dave was back from Australia to break the news to his family that he was marrying a woman he met online through a jail dating site, she was English and was nearly finished a five year sentence for smuggling drugs into Australia. Dave was going through a lot, his parents were not happy and he was worried that he jail mate was using him.
The happy ending for Dave was his jail-babe had been forgiven by her parents and they wanted the two of them to come stay with them, they owned a rental property in Cornwall so it would be a relaxed place to stay for a while, no pressure as neither of them were going to be working. Dave left and Amanda never met him, I promised to stop telling lies, they are really not worth it.
I thought that would end it and my promise to be a better person would stay with me, not so for Amanda, she decided that as the jail-babes parents had a rental they could sort us out with somewhere to stay when we went over for a visit. The next round of lies had to begin.
We broke up for unrelated reasons, and I am not sorry for that, we were not right for each other regardless of mow much we liked each other.
I really do regret inventing Dave, at first it was a bit of fun, then it became a challenge but in the end it was just me telling lies to a nice woman that I wish I could have been honest with.
(Mon 16th Aug 2010, 23:32, More)
I invented a friend
My most recent ladyfriend was a lovley woman called Amanda, we met through work, she was doing a presentation on health and safety (she went on to cut off part of my finger! - it was an accident I admit, and not really related to this story).
So Amanda and I had been going out for about three months when I began to feel very controlled, she had met all my friends, everyone I work with and knew my neighbours. The only person in her life that I was not on first name terms with was her postman. Amanda was great but she wanted to live in my pocket, so I came up with an idea to get some alone time.
My plan was simple, I invented a friend - meet Dave, my old mate from work years back. I told Amanda that my old friend Dave was back from living in Australia and I was meeting him, worked a treat, I got a night on my own to relax and all I had to do was tell a little fib, might have been fine if I had left it at that. Over the next few weeks Dave and I went out a couple of times, I wish I could say I spent these nights in a casino or a strip club to spice things up but the truth is I stayed home and drank beer while watching telly.
Problems began when Amanda wanted to meet Dave (should have seen it coming), I tried to fob her off hoping she would give up but it became a big deal for her, she was getting a bit upset so I started adding more lies, Dave was not good around strangers, Dave was a bit of a heavy drinker so it was not a good idea to meet up. Nothing worked, it became a mission for her to meet Dave.
This went on for about six weeks, now please consider that at the time I was drinking a bit too much so was used to lying. Also consider that I really did like Amanda - I did feel a little guilty for lying but once I started it was hard to get out.
So towards the end the lies had mounted up, little by little it all adds up, christ it was had work trying to keep track of it all. It reached the point were Dave was back from Australia to break the news to his family that he was marrying a woman he met online through a jail dating site, she was English and was nearly finished a five year sentence for smuggling drugs into Australia. Dave was going through a lot, his parents were not happy and he was worried that he jail mate was using him.
The happy ending for Dave was his jail-babe had been forgiven by her parents and they wanted the two of them to come stay with them, they owned a rental property in Cornwall so it would be a relaxed place to stay for a while, no pressure as neither of them were going to be working. Dave left and Amanda never met him, I promised to stop telling lies, they are really not worth it.
I thought that would end it and my promise to be a better person would stay with me, not so for Amanda, she decided that as the jail-babes parents had a rental they could sort us out with somewhere to stay when we went over for a visit. The next round of lies had to begin.
We broke up for unrelated reasons, and I am not sorry for that, we were not right for each other regardless of mow much we liked each other.
I really do regret inventing Dave, at first it was a bit of fun, then it became a challenge but in the end it was just me telling lies to a nice woman that I wish I could have been honest with.
(Mon 16th Aug 2010, 23:32, More)
» Starting something you couldn't finish
I started a fight aged 13 by accident
Reading this before posting I thought how tame and childish it sounds, I guess thats the point, when you are young little things make a big difference. A casual remark starts a fight... No funnies but a happy ending.
Picture yourself a young lad, in a a past time, growing up and reaching that age when admitting you liked girls was becoming allowed and admitting you played with Star Wars toys was becoming frowned upon.
Now let me detail the main people involved in the story.
Me - Usually in the top five in exam scores, also usually in the last five to be picked for sports. Glad to have been better at the exams.
Chris - New guy to my school, clever, funny and worked hard to let it be thought that he was a had case.
Liam - a guy who was I was friendly with when younger and went to a Chris's old school.
Now to the telling of the tale, in school one day Chris mentioned an upcoming football game against his old school, he told the class that he knew all the players and who were the ones to watch out for. Chris said that our mutual (so I thought) friend Liam was a great player, I said he was not that good as I could score against him. This earned me a look of daggers from Chris. I have gone over what happened from there a lot in the years since, I'm not sure how it happened but it lead to many years of problems for me.
Chris took exception to me questioning the football skills of Liam and told him what I said, Liam told Chris I was a dead man (a strange threat from a guy who used to borrow your space hopper).
Now at this time I was a notch over five foot and weighed about the same as a supermodels handbag so a physical confrontation was not something I would aim for. I thought I'd ride out the threats and intimidation and go back to being the guy in the corner.
Instead what happened was Liam, Chris and four other guys waited outside school for me one day. I still remember walking along with them about ten paces behind, knowing they were there and that something was going to happen, feeling my heart beat so hard. I remember wanting them to just get on with it as the waiting was torture. Liam caught up with me and shouted how I said he was crap at football and he was going to sort me out (christ it seems so stupid now), I tried to say sorry , this was mocked and then I ran... I didn't get far. In the end I got a kicking and the result was one mild scar on my face and some deep scars in my mind.
I had been beaten in the street in front of friends and by people I thought were friends. For a few years I would be laughed at in school and in the street, I never talked about it.
I hated myself for a long time, seeing Chris in school and hearing the comments, avoiding going out so I would not meet them. About three years later I saw Liam in the street and had a moment of panic and had to run and hide in a field. Even into my early twenties going home would bring on a bit of worry. To sum up it fucked me over for years.
Until one afternoon about ten years after it happened I was walking down the street and it hit me that the familiar guy walking towards me was Liam, for a heartbeat I went back in time and felt the fear. Then I thought, well things have changed, I'm bigger and in all honesty I could pick him up and thrown him around like a doll if I wanted. He didn't recognise me & I laughed. I had no desire to hit him, talk to him or have any involvement with him.
I watched him walk away while thinking that years after the bruises had healed I had allowed the beating to continue hurting me. I did not feel angry anymore, I was grateful (and still am) for that kicking. In the long run it thought me a lot.
I learned that somethings hurt in the moment but the worst pain comes from what you allow to stay with you.
Its a fight that will never be finished because I'm still learning from it.
(Wed 30th Jun 2010, 1:35, More)
I started a fight aged 13 by accident
Reading this before posting I thought how tame and childish it sounds, I guess thats the point, when you are young little things make a big difference. A casual remark starts a fight... No funnies but a happy ending.
Picture yourself a young lad, in a a past time, growing up and reaching that age when admitting you liked girls was becoming allowed and admitting you played with Star Wars toys was becoming frowned upon.
Now let me detail the main people involved in the story.
Me - Usually in the top five in exam scores, also usually in the last five to be picked for sports. Glad to have been better at the exams.
Chris - New guy to my school, clever, funny and worked hard to let it be thought that he was a had case.
Liam - a guy who was I was friendly with when younger and went to a Chris's old school.
Now to the telling of the tale, in school one day Chris mentioned an upcoming football game against his old school, he told the class that he knew all the players and who were the ones to watch out for. Chris said that our mutual (so I thought) friend Liam was a great player, I said he was not that good as I could score against him. This earned me a look of daggers from Chris. I have gone over what happened from there a lot in the years since, I'm not sure how it happened but it lead to many years of problems for me.
Chris took exception to me questioning the football skills of Liam and told him what I said, Liam told Chris I was a dead man (a strange threat from a guy who used to borrow your space hopper).
Now at this time I was a notch over five foot and weighed about the same as a supermodels handbag so a physical confrontation was not something I would aim for. I thought I'd ride out the threats and intimidation and go back to being the guy in the corner.
Instead what happened was Liam, Chris and four other guys waited outside school for me one day. I still remember walking along with them about ten paces behind, knowing they were there and that something was going to happen, feeling my heart beat so hard. I remember wanting them to just get on with it as the waiting was torture. Liam caught up with me and shouted how I said he was crap at football and he was going to sort me out (christ it seems so stupid now), I tried to say sorry , this was mocked and then I ran... I didn't get far. In the end I got a kicking and the result was one mild scar on my face and some deep scars in my mind.
I had been beaten in the street in front of friends and by people I thought were friends. For a few years I would be laughed at in school and in the street, I never talked about it.
I hated myself for a long time, seeing Chris in school and hearing the comments, avoiding going out so I would not meet them. About three years later I saw Liam in the street and had a moment of panic and had to run and hide in a field. Even into my early twenties going home would bring on a bit of worry. To sum up it fucked me over for years.
Until one afternoon about ten years after it happened I was walking down the street and it hit me that the familiar guy walking towards me was Liam, for a heartbeat I went back in time and felt the fear. Then I thought, well things have changed, I'm bigger and in all honesty I could pick him up and thrown him around like a doll if I wanted. He didn't recognise me & I laughed. I had no desire to hit him, talk to him or have any involvement with him.
I watched him walk away while thinking that years after the bruises had healed I had allowed the beating to continue hurting me. I did not feel angry anymore, I was grateful (and still am) for that kicking. In the long run it thought me a lot.
I learned that somethings hurt in the moment but the worst pain comes from what you allow to stay with you.
Its a fight that will never be finished because I'm still learning from it.
(Wed 30th Jun 2010, 1:35, More)
» Professions I Hate
Cold callers
Combining last weeks & this weeks QOTW, I have read a lot about cold callers, this might help. Advice I have been given (but never used of course).
First be polite, ask the callers name and thank them for the call (mild surprise for them) listen to what they are saying and ask a few reasonable questions (they wet their lips) , remember be polite - even friendly if you can.
Now express interest in the product or service on offer (caller now sees $), at this point you ask if the caller uses the product themself, this is the turning point - you should try to engage in a conversation, even for a moment (slight confusion but still seeing $). Now say " I bet you have a hard job, calling strangers and having them be rude". Wait for them to get things back on track then say "I'm naked right now... what color eyes do you have?"
Job done. Welcome to the blacklist.
(Fri 28th May 2010, 23:35, More)
Cold callers
Combining last weeks & this weeks QOTW, I have read a lot about cold callers, this might help. Advice I have been given (but never used of course).
First be polite, ask the callers name and thank them for the call (mild surprise for them) listen to what they are saying and ask a few reasonable questions (they wet their lips) , remember be polite - even friendly if you can.
Now express interest in the product or service on offer (caller now sees $), at this point you ask if the caller uses the product themself, this is the turning point - you should try to engage in a conversation, even for a moment (slight confusion but still seeing $). Now say " I bet you have a hard job, calling strangers and having them be rude". Wait for them to get things back on track then say "I'm naked right now... what color eyes do you have?"
Job done. Welcome to the blacklist.
(Fri 28th May 2010, 23:35, More)
» Expensive Weekends
Tainted cash
Many years ago something bad happened to a friend (another story altogether), sometime after that bunch of solicitors argued, end result I got about £3000.
My thinking was this money had come to me as a result of something that still rates as one of the worst days of my life, I felt the money was tainted by this. So I decided not to invest it as I thought that money earned would be like fruit from a poisoned tree. I thought about giving it to a charity and tried to think of a fitting one, then it hit me - how would my friend have spent it? Simple answer - go somewhere you have never been and have fun, step one: get a map of Europe, step two: open and thrust finger at map blindly.
Three weeks later I was in a apartment in Prague with one mission - spend the money & have fun. I achieved both very quickly. Highlights of the time there include an encounter with the worlds worst pickpoctet (me 5'7" him 6'4" and we were the only 2 people on the street), getting so drunk that I woke up under the bed and drunkenly wandering into a pub/club filled with slightly dodgy Russians in leather jackets & sunglasses(the bodyguards & security were quite friendly).
Now to the expensive part of the story, I got chatting to one young lady who I tried to impress by buying her a drink - fine she wants a beer, now I try to be all James Bond and order us a bottle of champagne instead, hey why not? I want to spend the money and its only about £18. That goes down fine, a few of her mates arrive, lets have another bottle, whats that sir? you dont like the champagne! - get this man two of you finest beers, and on it goes.
My Bond inspired plan worked a treat, the stunning blond & I left for her place and a good time was had by both of us. Only problem was in my pissed state I had made a mistake with the exchange rate, it was not £18 a bottle like I thought, it was £120. I had ordered five of them.
Went back the next night and did the same thing.
Cost of the weekend, about £3000 and it was worth every penny because I still remember it as the last present my friend ever gave me.
(Wed 19th May 2010, 13:19, More)
Tainted cash
Many years ago something bad happened to a friend (another story altogether), sometime after that bunch of solicitors argued, end result I got about £3000.
My thinking was this money had come to me as a result of something that still rates as one of the worst days of my life, I felt the money was tainted by this. So I decided not to invest it as I thought that money earned would be like fruit from a poisoned tree. I thought about giving it to a charity and tried to think of a fitting one, then it hit me - how would my friend have spent it? Simple answer - go somewhere you have never been and have fun, step one: get a map of Europe, step two: open and thrust finger at map blindly.
Three weeks later I was in a apartment in Prague with one mission - spend the money & have fun. I achieved both very quickly. Highlights of the time there include an encounter with the worlds worst pickpoctet (me 5'7" him 6'4" and we were the only 2 people on the street), getting so drunk that I woke up under the bed and drunkenly wandering into a pub/club filled with slightly dodgy Russians in leather jackets & sunglasses(the bodyguards & security were quite friendly).
Now to the expensive part of the story, I got chatting to one young lady who I tried to impress by buying her a drink - fine she wants a beer, now I try to be all James Bond and order us a bottle of champagne instead, hey why not? I want to spend the money and its only about £18. That goes down fine, a few of her mates arrive, lets have another bottle, whats that sir? you dont like the champagne! - get this man two of you finest beers, and on it goes.
My Bond inspired plan worked a treat, the stunning blond & I left for her place and a good time was had by both of us. Only problem was in my pissed state I had made a mistake with the exchange rate, it was not £18 a bottle like I thought, it was £120. I had ordered five of them.
Went back the next night and did the same thing.
Cost of the weekend, about £3000 and it was worth every penny because I still remember it as the last present my friend ever gave me.
(Wed 19th May 2010, 13:19, More)