Thursday, January 26, 2006

It has ever been thus…

I wasn’t even any good at copping off when I was a teenager. I did manage to get off to a flying start in second year at school, when I was twelve. It was all Mistletoe at the Christmas Disco, Spin-the-Bottle and Dares at the back of the bus. But when I got to third year, it came to a grinding halt. I thought this was down to the addition of some lovely train-track braces. Little was I to know it was to be the first of many lengthy droughts.

There were a few chinks, but I managed to fuck them all up.

The under-18s nightclub we used to go to was so popular that people used to get bussed in from twenty and thirty miles away. I spotted a guy - tall, dark, incredibly gorgeous, and with the added kudos of being from a Different Town. A couple of my more brazen friends went over to talk to him. One of them came back after a few minutes. "We asked him out for you and he said yes. Go on over, he’s waiting". No! I turned the same colour as my red square-necked top. I couldn’t ask a boy out. I still can’t, I’ve never done it. I ran away.

Another night I was on the dancefloor with my friends. Next to us happened to be someone I knew, Brendy, with a group of guys including the Fittest Lad in My Year. (I didn’t fancy him, oh no, I only liked boys from Other Schools). Brendy tapped me on the shoulder, pointed at Fit Lad and said, "Would you go out with him?" I said no, of course, prompting embarrassment on all sides – him for getting blown out, and me, because I know he wasn’t actually interested. Shortly after I knew him Brendy apparently became a drugs dealer and years later was shot six times in the face by the ‘Ra. He called me ‘Spotty’ once (apt but cruel). I never liked him.


  • Cringe. Clearly I was right to stay in my bedroom until I was 17.

    By Anonymous Homer, at 4:39 PM  

  • The horror. I was totally inept at getting off with girls as a teenager, right up until I discovered the joys of getting mindlessly drunk in nightclubs - then it just sort of happened by itself. To this day, I've pulled more times when I've been utterly off-my-face drunk than when I've been sober/only mildly tipsy.

    By Blogger LC, at 5:47 PM  

  • It's always fun when your old school mates are in the news init. You get to point and go "IknewthemIknewthem, they were in my class!"

    By Blogger Fuckkit, at 11:18 AM  

  • I actually didn't think these stories were all that cringey. Things got worse for me with the introduction of alcohol. Just last year I met a really fit bloke at a festival. I'd drunkenly lost all my friends and he was clearly angling for me to hang out with him, but I ran away. Hopeless.

    Fuckkit - I've endeavored to keep v. quiet about my past acquaintance with one of 'Northern Ireland's 7 Most Evil Men'.

    By Blogger Spinsterella, at 12:26 PM  

  • Clearly, you lack courage in the face of fit men. Perhaps more alcohol would help? Maybe not?

    By Blogger frangelita, at 2:52 PM  

  • This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

    By Blogger frangelita, at 2:53 PM  

  • Freaky...

    By Blogger The Lady Muck, at 3:38 PM  

  • "betting no pony-trotting"??


    a lucky escape, methinks...

    By Blogger Urban Chick, at 9:03 PM  

  • sorry, that shoulda read

    betting "on"

    By Blogger Urban Chick, at 9:04 PM  

  • Yeah, I know.

    I spent 18 long fucking years of my life there and still I thought "pony-trotting"? WTF??

    Honestly, my home-town's weird, but not, like, that weird.

    By Blogger Spinsterella, at 10:21 PM  

  • pony-trotting? I'm missing something. Help!

    By Blogger the Beep, at 12:30 AM  

  • That'll teach him. Always he suspect off men in false beards.

    By Anonymous Anonymous, at 12:48 AM  

  • Damn. That didn't work. Tis me (you) not annoymous.

    By Anonymous caroline, at 12:49 AM  

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