Month: July 2014

Flashback Incident: Fake OCD

I realised earlier a good story I forgot about Mr Weirdo from before we dated.

My Goth Friend (the one I later fell out with) had OCD and was seeing a counsellor to help with the associated behaviours. She was telling me about the type of therapy it was when Mr Weirdo overheard and became curious.

Goth Friend patiently had to explain to him what OCD was. He asked if it was the “handwashing illness”. Goth Friend detailed a few other compulsions common in people with OCD including some of her own. She spoke calmly and fearlessly. I remember being proud of her for educating others and doing her bit to dispell stigma around mental health.

Then Mr Weirdo said, “I have that too”.

From that day on, he would perform exagerrated movements to convince us of his OCD. He would storm around inside shops rearranging the merchandise, tutting and sighing at the top of his voice. I pointed out at one time how convenient it was he’d never been like this before Goth Friend told him what OCD was.

“I’ve relapsed” he said seriously.

It came to a head finally when a group of friends all went out for lunch. Mr Weirdo took everyones cutlery ans began laying it evenly and symetrically across the table. His brow furrowed, muttering deliberately so others could hear. He was really going for the Oscar. The table went silent, watching him perform.

He finished and breathed a sigh of relief, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow. Goth Friend could stand it no more. Leaning forward she spat in his face, “Your forks aren’t even, bitch!”.

He ran away and we all had to share and pay for the chips he’d ordered.


Mr Tale of Two Cities

There was once a boy-man that I met through my professional network. We had passing pleasant conversations. We worked (and still do) in the same sector and profession – so really there was no escape…

I met him in City 1. At the time he made it clear he was interested in me, but as I was in a long term relationship and living with my other half, I wasn’t going to risk it. Especially as Mr ToTC wasn’t flipping my switch massively.

Years passed, we kept in touch through professional circles.

A couple of years ago he was in City 2 for work. As I live in City 2, I said drop me a line and we’ll do drinks / dinner. I know what it’s like to be away from home for work – pretty fucking miserable if you’ve got no friends, social life etc.

We went out in the nice part of town and had a nice meal. We then went for cocktails. A very decent evening, the kind of thing I do with my close girl friends.

As the night drew to a close, he asked me if I wanted to see the hotel he was staying in. He knew from various conversations I’d wanted to see the interior of said hotel for quite awhile as it was supposed to be pretty special.

That was probably the only smooth move of the night…

Once up in his room and after surveying the building, I said I’d sit and watch some TV whilst I waited for my taxi. It was an awfully hot night and absolutely everywhere seemed stuffy – I certainly wasn’t in a sexy time mood.

However, he was.

Somehow he managed to whip everything off down to his boxers in a really short space of time. I was somewhat amused by the magic striptease. He asked me to stay as he had waited years to spend the night with me. We wouldn’t do anything, this would be the start of something no doubt, etc etc.

The heat had obviously gone to my head (it wasn’t the sight of his near naked gangly self I can assure you) so I agreed, ignoring all the weird comments about “the start of something” presuming he was pissed or suffering from heatstroke. It was really late and a taxi would take a while to arrive anyway.

So, we went to bed. I insisted on being given something to wear so ended up in one of his t-shirts. I kept my bra and knickers on as well. I thought this sent an obvious signal.

My signal was lost in translation. After starting to kiss me – one of the most awful kissers ever, like some sort of dry, mouthy fish – he proceeded to put his hand up my t-shirt. It was like being 12 again and behind the bike sheds at school. I couldn’t believe quite how bad a fully grown man could be at simple things. I couldn’t find the words to stop the car crash without being so very rude so tried to feign tiredness and kept rolling away from him.

Tiredness and rolling was unsuccessful.

He then inserted his hand into my knickers, “just to see what it felt like.” I felt like some sort of science experiment, freak and paedophile all at once. Mr ToTC is a fair few years older than me, but I still felt like I was deflowering him or something. I had to tell him I had to get to sleep as I had plans the next morning.

The next morning, after him trying to stick to me all night like a peasant to a loaf of bread, I made my excuses. I don’t think I’ve voluntarily sprung out of bed that quickly ever, or been that awake so early. I scuttled off home filled with relief.

Luckily he got the message that the night had been a bit crap once in the hotel. We still chat occasionally (the professional network can be painfully small) but there has been no request for another “dinner.” I’m incredibly grateful for this as I think with age I have become meaner and its unlikely I’d be able to bite my tongue on his complete lack of skills in the bedroom and why it wasn’t “the start of something…”

Thank god for geographical distance as well…

Mr Big Cock


Mr Big Cock had a big cock.

He was a smooth operator that I knew through my professional network. Somehow I ended up on a “date” with him – what I thought was innocent drinks – turned out to be him putting the moves on me in a sophisticated bar.

Despite not being interested, I allowed him to take me home in his flash car. I was a bit drunk and wanted to go to bed (alone.)

When we got back to mine he asked if he could come in to use the toilet. It felt rude and ungrateful after he had driven me home to say no.

He came in to use the facilities. I went to bed expecting he’d be able to let himself out as we’d said our farewells.

Or not.

He came into my room and somehow managed to drop his pants and dry hump me in his tight white boxers. Of which his cock bulged out of.

Apart from not being interested in him, I was at this point sleeping with Mr “But I Love You” – who will grace these pages very soon. Mr BILY worked for Mr Big Cock. Directly. My “relationship” with Mr BILY was not common knowledge, certainly not to his boss, who I found myself underneath being gyrated against on this unfortunate evening.

I eventually got Mr Big Cock to leave my house, on vaguely good terms.

I saw him around occasionally whilst I worked in the area, but when he found out about Mr BILY things were pretty damn awkward…

‘I wouldn’t kick her out of bed’, so why did you!


It was about a month since my 4.5 year relationship had ended, it had been a painful break up. My self esteem was low. I’d been talking in a chat room on a dating site (depraved poisonous place as it happens). There was a girl who also lived in London, I was getting on quite well with her and on a particularly boring Saturday she was talking about going for drinks, so I met up with her.

We met in a pub, and straight away I realised she wasn’t the type of person I’d normally hang out with. Fake hair, fake nails, fake tan, caked in make up- but with a sinking heart I had to admit she got attention from men who wouldn’t normally look at me.

It turned out that day there was a big sporting event, so the pubs in that area were rammed full of people in various costumes. It didn’t take long for Miss Fake to engage in some tonsil tennis with a young man dressed as a banana. In my newly single state, the last thing I wanted to do was sit on my own while this was happening in front of me.

Thankfully after about half an hour Miss Fake and Mr Banana came up for air, and to get a drink. I joined them at the bar, where some of Mr Banana’s friends (dressed as gorillas) were gathered around. For the most part they all ignored me, I was planning my journey home when the drunkest one turned to me and said ‘I wouldn’t kick you out of bed’.

Miss Fake had already gone home with someone else, not the banana, so I went back to Mr Gorilla’s hotel which was nearby. As first sexual encounter with someone new in 4.5 years, it was awful. I had to utter the worst phrase imaginable to say as a female during sex,

‘Is it in yet?’

He passed out, I was far from sober so I fell asleep too. At one point I remember hazily hearing ‘Holy fuck he’s lost his V card’ and ‘This is going on snapchat’, back then I didn’t know what snapchat was.

A few hours passed, and then I started to feel myself being kicked in the back. At first I thought he must be kicking me in his sleep, then it got more persistent. The next thing I knew, I woke up mid air, seemingly in slow motion, and then fully jolted awake as I hit the floor.

He had kicked me out of bed, literally.

‘The first trains at 7’ he said, as I stared at him in disbelief. It was Sunday! It’s never ok to be awake at 7am on a Sunday!

That’s when I heard giggling behind me, and realised with some horror that his two friends (the banana, and another gorilla), were in a double bed behind me. They then decided to ‘enlighten’ me by telling me that Mr Gorilla was a virgin before he met me, and that he was only 19. At that point I demanded to see ID from all of them, and recoiled in horror as I realised Mr Banana was 17.

I got myself dressed, had a long walk of shame back to the station, where I then waited for an hour for the first train, which wasn’t until 8 as it happens.

I vowed never to wake up face planting the floor again, I’ll treat the next person who says they wouldn’t kick me out of bed with caution…..

Incident Nine: She looks like you

The first proper break up with Mr Weirdo left me crushed. I had lost all my Uni friends, and all the ones I had made at his Uni were more his friends than mine. My self esteem was diminished.
Luckily, friends I had known at school before Mr Weirdo got back in touch. This was pure coincidence- one guy had found out his girlfriend had cheated on him around the same time and was keen to rally friends around as much as I was. Through this time I made back a lot of friends who I would not have made with Mr Weirdo.

Two in particular are important. One is a guy. He needs more than one incident. I’ll save him for later.

The other person was a girl a couple of years below me. I had befriended her after finding out she had a crush on Mr Weirdo (yay, that makes me seem less insane for going out with him) and that she’d been slagging me off behind my back.

Nowadays if someone dislikes me I don’t really give a shit, but back then I put a lot of work into finding this girl and speaking to her. It turned out we had a fair bit in common and we hung out a couple of times before the break up. She was a cosplayer and overtly sexual. We’ll refer to her as Miss Kitty, because she glued velcro-detachable cat ears to her head and wore them out permenantly.

When Miss Kitty heard of the break up she was right there. Literally, she jumped straight on a bus to my house. She stayed with me for the next week to make sure I was ok, helped me eat, helped me get a quicker appointment with my counsellor. For all that went wrong, she was truly a good friend in that time.

However, Miss Kitty had a habit of “falling in love” with any person she got close to. I didn’t notice at first, but soon the signs were too big to ignore.

She drew an anime style picture of me, my chest very generously enlarged and my clothes very much reduced. She sent me links to lesbian porno and said “Don’t you think they look like you and me?”

After a while, she admitted to me over Instant Messaging that she was in love with me but that the friendship was more important. I was flattered but relieved. I’m not really that into women.

Sadly I behaved badly during the break up to her. I was so insecure that anyone who showed any level of affection, no matter how I did or didn’t feel about them, was spectacularly led on.

I made out with Miss Kitty in a playful manner during a game of “Pass the Ice Cube” in a pub. After that, Mr Weirdo came crawling back, affair spent and tail between his legs. Poor Miss Kitty was devestated.

She began calling constantly, 20 times in a day, pleading to hang out and to know when I was free. Maybe she could see me quickly before Uni, or after? She missed me, she didn’t understand why I was pushing her away.

After a while I think she understood it was Mr Weirdo. She tried even then by inviting us both to hang out at her home, no hard feelings etc. We went, and Mr Weirdo behaved appallingly. He insulted her family for their council estate home, insulted Miss Kitty for having dropped out of school early. He insulted their neighbours who then scratched his car in response. That was it. I was no longer allowed contact with her.

At the time I guess I was relieved. Eventually the phone calls stopped. I found out recently that Miss Kitty is married with a beautiful young son. I consider speaking to her, to tell her I’m sorry. But I figure it’s better to let go. She’s finally free.

Mid-fuck Mutterings : Part 2


Since my first post under this title, I have had some recollections of other pearls of the pillow…

– “Your chuff doesn’t smell” (Thanks, I didn’t think it did. Will you be writing me a good recommendation somewhere? )

– “Stick your finger up my bum please” (No. It’s hairy and dark…and I just don’t want to. )

– “Is this your bed?” (Er, as opposed to my imaginary friend’s?)

-“It’s just my flatmate outside the door, don’t worry ” (Is your flatmate hotter than you, as I’m keeping my options open.)

-“Can you order room service after, I fancy a sandwich” (Are you after a bread or person sandwich…?)

Mr Agent


Mr Agent is one of my latest sources of irritation.

After flirting horrendously with me for near on 2 hours in a 1-2-1 work setting , and texting me repeatedly with “x’s” on the end of every text, he got his mate to ring me. And try to get me to come to his work drinks.

It’s true what they say about male levels of maturity – this one was a grown man clearly still acting the cheeky boy on the playground and operating the “my mate likes you”model of interaction.

I never could stand children…

Mr Hotel Corridor and Friend


My friend and I went out one night and got very drunk. We decided to hit a late club (the type that opens at 2am, closes at 6am) and continue our partying.

Once at the venue, we met two young men. We basically pulled. We went our separate ways with our male accompaniments.

I took mine back to mine. I intended there to be no nookie, but low and behold, himself had other ideas. However, seeing him flop around on my bed like a demented fish, and make girl – like squeals, made it a no from me. (I did fuck him at a later date. I have no idea why. I must have been desperately horny.)

Across town, with my friend and her male accompaniment, an event had occurred back in his hotel room. He said he didn’t have any protection, to which my friend advised there would therefore be no fucking. He then proceeded to drop his pants and boxers, expose himself and proclaim “But look, I’m a clean boy!”

At this point my friend was out. She left the hotel room and started off down the corridor. He however was not yet defeated. He followed her down the corridor, knob out, pants around ankles shouting “Come back bab, I’m a good clean boy, me!” My friend ran off to the taxi rank in the front of the hotel. Fortunately he did not follow her there, and decided to retreat to his room.

My friend and I still laugh about this night out on a regular basis…Yet hope to never have a recurrence.

Incident Eight: University

So when we started Uni, Mr Weirdos uni was maybe a two hour train ride from my own Uni. Hardly miles apart. I’m quite shy and homebodyish so I expected I’d deal with it the worst.

As it turns out, I made a group of friends all on my course within 24 hours. Mr Weirdo phoned me up crying on the first night because nobody would talk to him. And the night after that. And the night after that.

So I abandoned an invite to a party to come up and keep him company at an event at his Uni. Within an hour I’d made friends there too. Everyone starting Uni is in the same boat and looking to make new friends. What Mr Weirdo failed to realise is that you need to leave your room to make them.

We visited each others Unis regularly at first, but Mr Weirdo didn’t like my Uni friends, or any of the social events there. I ended up losing them all and giving up my halls to commute from home. Every weekend I paid a small fortune to visit Mr Weirdo and as a result I made better friends at his Uni than I did mine. Mr Weirdo liked me being there, it meant more people would come out with us as I was generally liked by the group in his halls.

There was only one girl I didn’t really click with. Our personalities clashed. I found her cold and wooden and she found me immature and loudmouthed. After being rude and snobbish to a lot of people, she was ostracised by the whole group. Except Mr Weirdo.

He said he took pity on her for being an outsider. She started coming along to all our dates. He would invite her into the room to talk whilst I was getting changed, or leave me in there alone while he went to her room.

I was a fool not to see it coming really, but almost two years into the relationship, Mr Weirdo called me over the phone to say he needed time to reassess what he wanted from a relationship. Not a proper break up, but for us to still be going out whilst not making contact.

Of course what he meant was to wait for him to sleep with the other girl whilst I waited patiently and chastely at home.

Ladies, if any man ever suggests “just a break” to you, I suggest you run and never look back. If only I’d done just that…

Hopping Along.

I am officially now single. A Woman Scorned #4 that is. I have partaken in many horrifically awkward dates and Kissed many frogs to find a prince (apparently I’m still working on that one)
I have not been single for around 5 years and There have been 5 boyfriends in that time. One looked like shrek, one wouldn’t let me go anywhere including to my parents house alone (like a body guard). One scarily resembled a weasel and had the courage of a teaspoon. Mr Obsessed (speaks for itself, read my other stories) and the most recent, the guy I thought was ‘the one’.

The gaps between relationships have been non existent as in literally hours or less than a day although I played the dating game with ‘the one’ for a while we were together in about 2 weeks.

I have now officially experienced heartbreak. It sucks. But I realised I finally have a chance to work on me. So i cleared my Facebook last night. Deleted about 500 people, it felt really empowering. Dyed my hair back to a natural colour! And today I am getting my hair and nails and tattoo done before meeting my bestie for a few drinks at a posh bar!

I feel completely crap but I’m really excited about the new person in my life I care about… Me!

I finally found out I can do it on my own and maybe I will meet someone but for now I’m giving they boys a break, they probably deserve it too!

I still have many dating horror stories to share though so don’t worry about that!