Croweater's thread of not-so-erotic fiction

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Croweater said:
I'll agree that the last 15 pages haven't exactly been the pinnacle of human evolution.

I could class the place up a bit by telling you a story about a mate who pissed his pants on a date. :$
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Please don't - your mates being dickheads aren't actually awkward flirting stories.
 

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Croweater said:
It was the same guy who enjoyed shitting on things.

He doesn't do that anymore. He's now a hipster.

To be honest, I can't figure out which one is worse.
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Holy crap, this is getting more and more like El Dubya!
 

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OK, awkward flirting story from Duritz's past here. I'll finally man up and put myself through the turmoil of internet shame.

OK, so the year is 1996. I am 19, nearly 20, and going to uni. There's this really hot blonde girl who is in my philosophy class (yes, philosophy, I was studying arts, I hadn't found my way to the toilet to tear an arts degree from off the bog roll). So, this girl is petite, really good looking but really quite shy. It was pretty clear she hadn't had many boyfriends, she might've even been a virgin (for all I know), because she really came across as a sweet girl who had NFI how incredibly hot she was.

Now, it must be noted that as hot as she was, I was no match. Looking back, and seeing photos from the time thanks to having a sister who has kept them, I am surprised I ever got laid, and must assume that they were all sympathy roots. Thankfully, and poetically, I did shag a couple of said sister's friends, so her keeping those photos has at least been repaid. To illustrate the mindset I had, I used to wear a t-shirt that said "chicks hate me" on it, in an attempt to be somehow desirably self-deprecating. It didn't work, it just confirmed their suspicions.

Anyway, so after a philosophy class hot blondie (let's just call her TGFM (Too Good For Me)) asks if I want to get some lunch with her. "Sure," I say, and I used to talk a LOT in philosophy classes, pretty much using them as my own platform to either rant, speculate or both, often at the same time. So, buzzed by the philosophy (I unashamedly loved philosophy) we go to lunch and I am crapping on still about existentialism, which we were reading about at the time. She prompted with things like, "I'm really fascinated by your thoughts" (I think she put me on a bit of a pedestal guys...) and I took that as reason to completely rant and rave for about 25 minutes about all of my nearly 20 year old philosophies. I must also add that at this point in my life I was actually convinced that I could write a book which would quite literally solve every philosophical question in existence, whilst describing life and its meanings. That's how much of a ******* idiot I was.

So, after a while she tried to talk the conversation back to more important things, like getting to know one another better, but I knew better than this. Looking at my watch (btw I'd ordered chips and gravy for lunch with a pot of beer, class all the way) I cut her off, telling her I had to be somewhere, which I did. I needed to catch a tram to the TAB up the road soon afterwards if I was to make the first leg of the Sandown quaddie.

She didn't ask me to lunch again, and for some ridiculous reason I didn't pursue her.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ IDIOT.
 
Last edited:
Duritz said:
OK, awkward flirting story from Duritz's past here. I'll finally man up and put myself through the turmoil of internet shame.

OK, so the year is 1996. I am 19, nearly 20, and going to uni. There's this really hot blonde girl who is in my philosophy class (yes, philosophy, I was studying arts, I hadn't found my way to the toilet to tear an arts degree from off the bog roll). So, this girl is petite, really good looking but really quite shy. It was pretty clear she hadn't had many boyfriends, she might've even been a virgin (for all I know), because she really came across as a sweet girl who had NFI how incredibly hot she was.

Now, it must be noted that as hot as she was, I was no match. Looking back, and seeing photos from the time thanks to having a sister who has kept them, I am surprised I ever got laid, and must assume that they were all sympathy roots. Thankfully, and poetically, I did shag a couple of said sister's friends, so her keeping those photos has at least been repaid. To illustrate the mindset I had, I used to wear a t-shirt that said "chicks hate me" on it, in an attempt to be somehow desirably self-deprecating. It didn't work, it just confirmed their suspicions.

Anyway, so after a philosophy class hot blondie (let's just call her TGFM (Too Good For Me)) asks if I want to get some lunch with her. "Sure," I say, and I used to talk a LOT in philosophy classes, pretty much using them as my own platform to either rant, speculate or both, often at the same time. So, buzzed by the philosophy (I unashamedly loved philosophy) we go to lunch and I am crapping on still about existentialism, which we were reading about at the time. She prompted with things like, "I'm really fascinated by your thoughts" (I think she put me on a bit of a pedestal guys...) and I took that as reason to completely rant and rave for about 25 minutes about all of my nearly 20 year old philosophies. I must also add that at this point in my life I was actually convinced that I could write a book which would quite literally solve every philosophical question in existence, whilst describing life and its meanings. That's how much of a ******* idiot I was.

So, after a while she tried to talk the conversation back to more important things, like getting to know one another better, but I knew better than this. Looking at my watch (btw I'd ordered chips and gravy for lunch with a pot of beer, class all the way) I cut her off, telling her I had to be somewhere, which I did. I needed to catch a tram to the TAB up the road soon afterwards if I was to make the first leg of the Sandown quaddie.

She didn't ask me to lunch again, and for some ridiculous reason I didn't pursue her.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ IDIOT.
Click to expand...

This sounds like bullshit to me mate, I'm not buying it
 
Duritz said:
OK, awkward flirting story from Duritz's past here. I'll finally man up and put myself through the turmoil of internet shame.

OK, so the year is 1996. I am 19, nearly 20, and going to uni. There's this really hot blonde girl who is in my philosophy class (yes, philosophy, I was studying arts, I hadn't found my way to the toilet to tear an arts degree from off the bog roll). So, this girl is petite, really good looking but really quite shy. It was pretty clear she hadn't had many boyfriends, she might've even been a virgin (for all I know), because she really came across as a sweet girl who had NFI how incredibly hot she was.

Now, it must be noted that as hot as she was, I was no match. Looking back, and seeing photos from the time thanks to having a sister who has kept them, I am surprised I ever got laid, and must assume that they were all sympathy roots. Thankfully, and poetically, I did shag a couple of said sister's friends, so her keeping those photos has at least been repaid. To illustrate the mindset I had, I used to wear a t-shirt that said "chicks hate me" on it, in an attempt to be somehow desirably self-deprecating. It didn't work, it just confirmed their suspicions.

Anyway, so after a philosophy class hot blondie (let's just call her TGFM (Too Good For Me)) asks if I want to get some lunch with her. "Sure," I say, and I used to talk a LOT in philosophy classes, pretty much using them as my own platform to either rant, speculate or both, often at the same time. So, buzzed by the philosophy (I unashamedly loved philosophy) we go to lunch and I am crapping on still about existentialism, which we were reading about at the time. She prompted with things like, "I'm really fascinated by your thoughts" (I think she put me on a bit of a pedestal guys...) and I took that as reason to completely rant and rave for about 25 minutes about all of my nearly 20 year old philosophies. I must also add that at this point in my life I was actually convinced that I could write a book which would quite literally solve every philosophical question in existence, whilst describing life and its meanings. That's how much of a ******* idiot I was.

So, after a while she tried to talk the conversation back to more important things, like getting to know one another better, but I knew better than this. Looking at my watch (btw I'd ordered chips and gravy for lunch with a pot of beer, class all the way) I cut her off, telling her I had to be somewhere, which I did. I needed to catch a tram to the TAB up the road soon afterwards if I was to make the first leg of the Sandown quaddie.

She didn't ask me to lunch again, and for some ridiculous reason I didn't pursue her.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ IDIOT.
Click to expand...



but?
but....
but..... the quaddie!!???? How did it turn out?
 
Duritz said:
(yes, philosophy, I was studying arts, I hadn't found my way to the toilet to tear an arts degree from off the bog roll).
Click to expand...
Yep, thats when i stopped reading.
 
Alright, so I have an awkward story to tell you. Well funny/awkward/ultimately rewarding. It happened a couple of days ago but I've been too busy to come on here, so it had to wait until now. NB: As I'm an extremely descriptive person, I may make comments which come across as self-inflating. It's not my intention, but I'm giving fair warning for the people out there with delicate sensitivities.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Anyway on Sunday morning, Hayley and I went out for brunch together. It was a beautiful Adelaide Spring day, 23 degrees, nary a cloud in the sky, so we decided to head up to God's Country; the Adelaide Hills. We settled on my childhood town, Stirling, and began our mission of finding a place to grab some breaky. We found a place, sat out on the deck and perused the menu. I decided on getting an Eggs Benedict, with a side of Kanmantoo Bacon and a Hazelnut Latte, and Hayley ordered an Eggs Florentine with Chamomile Tea I think it was, which went down rather nicely. We sat there enjoying the sunshine, and talking about maybe going away for a weekend to Sydney. The way Hayley described looking forward to having me "all to [her]self" and not having to wear clothes for our weekend in a Sydney hotel room, not to mention her looking effortlessly sexy at brunch, made me want to push her against the wall and f*ck her right then and there. Yep, life was sweet.

However (in keeping with my generally juxtaposed stories of "this was great, then this happened"), things went downhill from there.

We decided to leave, so Hayley went to "freshen up" (her words) before we left the restaurant. As Hayley was in the toilet, who should I bump into, but my battle-axe of an ex-girlfriend who screwed me around (I've mentioned her before). Anyway, she was really happy to see me, she gave me a big hug and asked me what I was up to. I was quite a bit less enthused to speak to her, but I conformed to social niceties and asked how she was, blah, blah, blah. She says she's missed me. I respond with "oh yeah, that's nice". Anyway, Hayley comes out of the toilet and walks over to us.

"Hi, who are you?" my ex asks quizzically.

"This is Hayley. We're seeing each other" I respond, in a manner far too vindictive.

My ex-girlfiend's (we'll call her Alex) face quickly shifted from quizzical to 'murdery' (if that's a word), like a psycho whose medication has stopped working. Now, Alex is revengeful bitch. If something doesn't go her way, there will be hell to pay. However, I did not forsee what she was about to say.

She turns to Hayley and goes "Oh, you're dating? How sad for you. Be prepared for below-par sex, s**t action movies, and banal political chit-chat. You'll have to attend his law stuff with boring law people and go home unsatisfied, wondering what you're doing with your life".

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I respond, embarrassed.

"Nothing. I'm just letting your bimbo trophy here know what she's getting herself into" she barked.

"There's no need to be rude, and there's certainly no need to discuss our sex life, regardless of how little you enjoyed it".

"F*ck you. I'll say whatever I want. I don't care what you or your latest root think. Hey Barbie, does he go down on you? Because when we f*cked, he only did what he wanted and didn't care about my needs".

"Jesus Christ. I think it's best we leave" I said. I felt like returning serve, but I didn't want Hayley to feel even worse.

You have to understand that Hayley is pasty as hell. Culturally white as f*ck. There's no mixture of white girl ebonics, she never wears caps, multi-coloured three-striper track pants don't feature in her wardrobe, and she can't stand the malleability of the public in being influenced into wasting money on Beats by Dr Dre headphones.

She doesn't really like confrontation or arguing, particularly in public. But for a second she acquired the quintessential African-American woman attitude, because she ain't gon' be havin' some hoe talkin' 'bout her and her man like that! She begins with the "oh, no she didn't" finger:

tumblr_lvt540WWrw1r1bf8y.jpg


That's as ghetto as it got, but what she said next was fantastic; "First of all, I'm not a trophy. What a rude thing to say. Secondly, I enjoy action movies, politics, and I'm one of those "boring law people" you described. Finally, the sex is amazing and he goes down on me daily, nightly and ever so rightly. You're just bitter because you let somebody great go, and that you'll spend your vile existence alone and unloved".

I was gobsmacked. I'd never seen her get so annoyed, let alone publicly discuss our sex life. She destroyed Alex without swearing once. That and the fact that she used a Scrubs quote to do it was bloody impressive. I decided to rub salt into the wound. I hoped Hayley wouldn't get annoyed at me. She (as most of you know) can get a bit precious about certain things.

With my arm around Hayley's waist and a smug look on my face, I go "You want to know why the sex was boring? Because you were s**t at it. You were a complete starfish. We did the same two boring positions (missionary and cowgirl) for years, and you weren't keen to try anything new apart from me orally satisfying you. I didn't give a s**t about sex with you, because it was literally that bad. Oh and by the way, the reason I avoided going down on you was because your vagina smelled like s**t".

I slowly and cautiously looked at Hayley's reaction like you wince at your bank account the night after getting pissed on $25 cocktails. She was smiling. All good.

We smugly turned around while Alex was left there with a horrified look on her face. Oh and the restaurant staff thought it was rather amusing too.

As we walked to the car, I go "So that was my ex-girlfriend. She's lovely isn't she?". :$
 
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