Thursday, March 16, 2006

Gaz – or – Why I Don’t Drink Tequila

(I haven't treated you to a Bad Sex Story for a while, have I? Sorry about that...)

Scene - A Northern Redbrick University, some time in the mid 1990s

Cast – Various members of a certain humanities department

Nikki (a very good friend of mine) and Gaz (another lad of our course) were both suffering from unrequited crushes. They were sharing a cab home one night when Gaz had a suggestion:

"Neither of us are getting anywhere with the person we actually fancy, so why don’t we just shag each other?"

So they did.

To complicate matters, another girl, Julie, really fancied Gaz and had asked Nikki to put a word in for her that night. She called Nikki the next morning going "So, does he like me?" whilst Gaz was still in Nikki’s bed.

It was a one-off, so that was that for Nikki and Gaz.

Six months later, Nikki and I ran into Gaz one morning. They had remained good mates, so the three of us headed into town to celebrate the handing in of a mammoth essay. We spent the afternoon drinking beers, then started chasing our Coronas with tequila. Not just salt’n’lemon tequilas though, oh no. Each shot of tequila was served with a slice of lemon, loaded with a spoonful of instant coffee and a spoonful of sugar. You neck the tequila, then suck hard on the lemon. Mmmm. The caffeine-sugar-rush added to the alcohol-on-an-empty-stomach meant that by the time the rest of the guys, including Julie arrived, we were absolutely fucking langered.

Everything fades to black at that point

(I always black out when I get drunk. I never pass out, or fall asleep, or slur, or fall over. I just continue talking absolute bollocks, very loudly and at high speeds, but can’t remember anything.)

The next thing I know, I’m on Gaz’s bed, on top, mid-shag. It’s all really hazy. Afterwards, his flatmate barged into the room without knocking. Gaz and I hooked up again later that week under slightly soberer circumstances, but then reverted back to being just-friends.

(We heard on the grapevine a while later that, eventually, Julie did have her way with him too.)

The following year, we were all out again, including another friend, Liz. Well before last orders, she and Gaz disappeared in a taxi.

A couple of days later, Liz showed up to the pub. She’s not the most restrained person in the world. Her judgement:

"Oh My GOD. He was CRAP. I can’t believe someone with such a MINISCULE dick has the NERVE to be such a CRAP SHAG. Why didn’t you tell me?"

We all confessed to the same experience and compared notes. Hilariously, he gave us all the same "I never normally come that quickly" line.

Gaz become known as Mr-Twenty-Seconds. (This is generous.)


  • no wonder men are totally scared of what we discuss with our mates.. we all know their worst suspicions are so true.

    By Blogger Kirses, at 8:31 PM  

  • Well yeah, but what do they say about us?
    Ok, not me, obviously. On account of the Being A Lesbian thing.
    But hey, they must have nicknames for mutual shags, right?

    By Blogger Fuckkit, at 9:10 PM  

  • Men generally don't own up to shagging the same girl. Nobody likes to admit they've stirred their mate's porridge...

    By Blogger LC, at 10:41 PM  

  • As opposed to women sharing their gruel.

    By Blogger Sherbert, at 5:50 PM  

  • You're hilarious! Great story ...

    By Blogger anika, at 8:00 PM  

  • May I point out that the first three of us didn't mention to anybody how crap Gaz was, even though we were close friends. I think it shows just how LITTLE girls actually say.

    It was only when Liz (who is about 10 times more of a gobshite than me, which is pretty scary) had a go, that we all confessed.

    It's not something that I'm proud of. I'd never tell this story to anyone in Real Life.

    Amusingly, I've got a photo of the four of us (the ladies, that is) together on graduation day.

    By Blogger Spinsterella, at 8:39 PM  

  • That's soooooo cruel. But hilarious.

    I'm so glad I'm hung like a donkey.

    By Anonymous Piggy and Tazzy, at 8:45 PM  

  • I agree with LC. Men don't generally share the details.

    Except for unsightly, hairy moles in unexpected places of course.

    And fanny farts.

    By Blogger Tim Footman, at 3:30 AM  

  • Oooh, it's made me all nostlagic for uni, even though fumbling around in a large plant-holder effort after a Religious Studies disco was about the high point of my sexual experience during my degree.

    An I must remember to buy some more knob-enlarging cream from that nice advert I got sent the other day.

    By Blogger looby, at 6:39 PM  

  • Poor Gaz.

    I hope you all chipped in and bought him one of those penis pump jobbies.

    By Blogger garfer, at 9:55 PM  

  • poor deluded men who think girls don't compare notes on crap shags....

    By Blogger surly girl, at 5:34 PM  

  • Thank God for Girl With a One-Track Mind

    "...being a good lover does not depend on the following factors:

    Cock size – I have had cocks as small as my thumb and almost as large as my forearm - and everything in between. Whilst the former was hard to feel and the latter hurt like hell, the rest fulfilled their job very nicely, thank you."

    By Blogger looby, at 10:39 PM  

  • Looby, you're making my eyes water.

    By Blogger Spinsterella, at 11:49 AM  

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