Women, etc.
- Thread starter Matt H
- Start date
S.
ex offender
Nup, this is something that girls just will not ever fully comprehend... like a guy trying to imagine childbirth or having issues navigating or something.
Morgan123
Likes Dirt
Similar happened to a mate.A friend of mine had this happen and i couldnt stop laughing as he described the scene and the blood filled condomlol
Norco Maniac
Is back!
mate, i'm wincing in sympathy.
no matter how embarrassing it may be, RR, get checked out by a GP who knows about these things. or even better, a specialist. it may literally and figuratively scar you for life, otherwise!
(perhaps steer clear of this chicky too, unless you can educate her)
i can sympathise (sort of) having had a three-tear homebirth. biiiig baby. (having my child at home was more than worth it, tho!) put me out of the "game" for six months, and my husband at the time had no clue as to just how painful it was.
no matter how embarrassing it may be, RR, get checked out by a GP who knows about these things. or even better, a specialist. it may literally and figuratively scar you for life, otherwise!
(perhaps steer clear of this chicky too, unless you can educate her)
i can sympathise (sort of) having had a three-tear homebirth. biiiig baby. (having my child at home was more than worth it, tho!) put me out of the "game" for six months, and my husband at the time had no clue as to just how painful it was.
Red Rocket
Likes Bikes and Dirt
Lazy afternoons in Taringa, and time for another story.
Last year some time, I suffered an absurd flight of fancy: I decided one day that I wanted to be properly bilingual, so I took French immediately as an elective with a saucy French cougar that taught a small class at UQ in the languages department. In the end, I learnt very little French - I think I was able to call someone's mother a horse, but that was about it. Instead I met some cool peeps and spent with them the time I should have been studying drinking smokey whiskey.
After a single semester, I was well and truly tired of learning a beautiful but largely useless language, so I ditched the subject but stayed in semi-regular contact with one of the little hotties I'd met. Vainfuck, my permanently preened housemate, unflatteringly refers to her as Gookey; and while it may be true that there is influence of The Orient in her, Lily is a far kinder pseudonym and also more accurate, because her nipples bear a striking resemblance to Lily Thai's.
It was Lily's enthusiastic spit-shine that tore The Rocket's guide wire a week or so ago, and since then it's been nothing short of a major headfuck between us. Admittedly, I did have to adjourn proceedings twice that night, mid-romp, to spew my ring out; but judging by the way she said goodbye before she bounced off in a yellow cab, I thought everything was more or less gravy with us.
So I got on the blower on Thursday and, through chatting to her, realized she had a pretty boring weekend coming up. That's Terrible! Well surely she'd need entertainment? Absolutely, she thought. Great, well, Friday works? Leave it to Beaver.
Surely enough, Friday followed Thursday, and as I was creating plans for a relaxed night of rock climbing and a casual bite to eat, Lily starts chatting to me on Facey. Rigmarole, courtesies: yeah I'm fine, and you? Etc. ad nauseum. And just as I'm about to adumbrate my plans for the evening, she announces as casually as if she were about to go make a sandwich that she was going to the Royal Exchange for a few beers with friends instead. What The Fuck? It took a mammoth effort to supplant my default "Are you fucking retarded" response with feigned nonchalance, but I hacked out a quick Ah Cool, Catch You Some Other Time, jumped off the computer and went to ride bikes.
I made an immediate decision to fuck her off completely. Cut ties, burn bridges, shut off the supply and deal with someone that could at least display basic courtesy. And I very nearly stuck to that.
Later on that night, she texted me from the Royal Exchange - Hey, and what's going on? And where are you now? And we should hang out! Bitch move. I was hanging with the boys, watching Joy schralp a live gig at Archive and drinking a skinful of frosty phlegm cutters. Since I'd moved on from pretending not to give a fuck to genuinely not giving a fuck, I sent Lily a reply saying "Archive," and didn't wait for a response.
Saturday night was the same story: Hey! What are you up to tonight? We should hang out! I'm going to be in the city with Ella, come meet us? Or could we tag along to wherever you're going? - Sorry kiddo, at a dinner party (embellishment), I'll catch you around. Vainfuck and I tooled around to a share house rented by a few old college friends, roasted a few animals, and had a marvelous time doing not too much at all.
Then it's Sunday, close to midnight, and I need something to do. So I jog up to the gym in Taringa to pump some comically small weights in an attempt to get a bit bigger. I stick at it for half an hour or so, jog home, have a bit of a gag over the sink as I wrestle down some protein powder, and then walk downstairs to find my phone with another fucking text from Lily. Hey, are you still awake? I can't sleep...
I'm too exhausted and bloated to even attempt frustration, so I sent her a brief message saying yeah, I couldn't sleep either, but maybe she should try a gym too. She already had, apparently. But couldn't I just come over and have tea with her? Well fuck!. So I swallowed my pride a bit and told her I'd be over in ten.
When I got there, she was pretty much ready for bed, bra-less and in a low-cut tank top. And then routine, routine, routine: Hey, show me the view! Beautiful apartment huh? And what about the rest of it? Oh this is your room? And your bed (I mean who the fuck else's would it be, but sometimes we all stumble). And who is this little fellow? You're little elephant toy! And do you cuddle him? And does he have a name? And how does this lamp work? And what about if we turned that on and turned the downlights off? And isn't that a cool effect? And can I lie down, I want to test out your bed, it looks incredibly comfortable. Yeah sure why not? And she might lie down too.
And even though it's all a bit formulaic and horrible, I start playing with her hair, and she seemed reasonably receptive. What about if I pulled all of her hair over her face? Could she see? Yeah? How about now? And now? And what about now? Blindfolded by her pony tail, I swept the hair away from her mouth and felt confident enough to take a chance. And wholly fuck, could she kiss!
Her slinky pyjamas slid off beautifully as I hopped around battling with a pair of skinny jeans that clung to me like hot wax. Eventually I got them off, grinning dumbly as I stood there in my socks and boylegs. But then I remembered how naked she was, and launched myself into bed. Breathlessness and all that as we cavorted around, her trying to smother her cries with a pillow that was only semi-effective.
And despite how retarded I thought she was as a human being, she was actually incredibly generous; gorgeously affectionate. I don't think I'll ever get used to an alarm clock that wakes you up by gently kissing each eyelid. I still don't understand the games, but I do understand that I was unequivocally happier last night than I was in the final six months of my last decent relationship. Blunt ending: life is bizarre.
Last year some time, I suffered an absurd flight of fancy: I decided one day that I wanted to be properly bilingual, so I took French immediately as an elective with a saucy French cougar that taught a small class at UQ in the languages department. In the end, I learnt very little French - I think I was able to call someone's mother a horse, but that was about it. Instead I met some cool peeps and spent with them the time I should have been studying drinking smokey whiskey.
After a single semester, I was well and truly tired of learning a beautiful but largely useless language, so I ditched the subject but stayed in semi-regular contact with one of the little hotties I'd met. Vainfuck, my permanently preened housemate, unflatteringly refers to her as Gookey; and while it may be true that there is influence of The Orient in her, Lily is a far kinder pseudonym and also more accurate, because her nipples bear a striking resemblance to Lily Thai's.
It was Lily's enthusiastic spit-shine that tore The Rocket's guide wire a week or so ago, and since then it's been nothing short of a major headfuck between us. Admittedly, I did have to adjourn proceedings twice that night, mid-romp, to spew my ring out; but judging by the way she said goodbye before she bounced off in a yellow cab, I thought everything was more or less gravy with us.
So I got on the blower on Thursday and, through chatting to her, realized she had a pretty boring weekend coming up. That's Terrible! Well surely she'd need entertainment? Absolutely, she thought. Great, well, Friday works? Leave it to Beaver.
Surely enough, Friday followed Thursday, and as I was creating plans for a relaxed night of rock climbing and a casual bite to eat, Lily starts chatting to me on Facey. Rigmarole, courtesies: yeah I'm fine, and you? Etc. ad nauseum. And just as I'm about to adumbrate my plans for the evening, she announces as casually as if she were about to go make a sandwich that she was going to the Royal Exchange for a few beers with friends instead. What The Fuck? It took a mammoth effort to supplant my default "Are you fucking retarded" response with feigned nonchalance, but I hacked out a quick Ah Cool, Catch You Some Other Time, jumped off the computer and went to ride bikes.
I made an immediate decision to fuck her off completely. Cut ties, burn bridges, shut off the supply and deal with someone that could at least display basic courtesy. And I very nearly stuck to that.
Later on that night, she texted me from the Royal Exchange - Hey, and what's going on? And where are you now? And we should hang out! Bitch move. I was hanging with the boys, watching Joy schralp a live gig at Archive and drinking a skinful of frosty phlegm cutters. Since I'd moved on from pretending not to give a fuck to genuinely not giving a fuck, I sent Lily a reply saying "Archive," and didn't wait for a response.
Saturday night was the same story: Hey! What are you up to tonight? We should hang out! I'm going to be in the city with Ella, come meet us? Or could we tag along to wherever you're going? - Sorry kiddo, at a dinner party (embellishment), I'll catch you around. Vainfuck and I tooled around to a share house rented by a few old college friends, roasted a few animals, and had a marvelous time doing not too much at all.
Then it's Sunday, close to midnight, and I need something to do. So I jog up to the gym in Taringa to pump some comically small weights in an attempt to get a bit bigger. I stick at it for half an hour or so, jog home, have a bit of a gag over the sink as I wrestle down some protein powder, and then walk downstairs to find my phone with another fucking text from Lily. Hey, are you still awake? I can't sleep...
I'm too exhausted and bloated to even attempt frustration, so I sent her a brief message saying yeah, I couldn't sleep either, but maybe she should try a gym too. She already had, apparently. But couldn't I just come over and have tea with her? Well fuck!. So I swallowed my pride a bit and told her I'd be over in ten.
When I got there, she was pretty much ready for bed, bra-less and in a low-cut tank top. And then routine, routine, routine: Hey, show me the view! Beautiful apartment huh? And what about the rest of it? Oh this is your room? And your bed (I mean who the fuck else's would it be, but sometimes we all stumble). And who is this little fellow? You're little elephant toy! And do you cuddle him? And does he have a name? And how does this lamp work? And what about if we turned that on and turned the downlights off? And isn't that a cool effect? And can I lie down, I want to test out your bed, it looks incredibly comfortable. Yeah sure why not? And she might lie down too.
And even though it's all a bit formulaic and horrible, I start playing with her hair, and she seemed reasonably receptive. What about if I pulled all of her hair over her face? Could she see? Yeah? How about now? And now? And what about now? Blindfolded by her pony tail, I swept the hair away from her mouth and felt confident enough to take a chance. And wholly fuck, could she kiss!
Her slinky pyjamas slid off beautifully as I hopped around battling with a pair of skinny jeans that clung to me like hot wax. Eventually I got them off, grinning dumbly as I stood there in my socks and boylegs. But then I remembered how naked she was, and launched myself into bed. Breathlessness and all that as we cavorted around, her trying to smother her cries with a pillow that was only semi-effective.
And despite how retarded I thought she was as a human being, she was actually incredibly generous; gorgeously affectionate. I don't think I'll ever get used to an alarm clock that wakes you up by gently kissing each eyelid. I still don't understand the games, but I do understand that I was unequivocally happier last night than I was in the final six months of my last decent relationship. Blunt ending: life is bizarre.
Last edited:
indica
Serial flasher
It's Friiiiidhaaaaaaay
hach_bee
Likes Bikes and Dirt
Tough situation dude, in a nutshell, shit happens and it sounds like you'll have to end the friendship for her to get a shock enough of snapping out of it. If not, you can easily end up in the Friends/More than Friends cycle and it's no good for anyone. OR hook her up with someone else :tape:
fieldy
Likes Dirt
I have been in this situation before too, and I always felt like shit because I knew it was hurting them as much if not more than myself.
The best thing you can do in my experience is stay true to your own feelings and don't act on any advances.
That is the course of action I took, when she eventually lost interest it made us better friends based on trust and respect.
My current shituation: Girlfriend of the last six months has just left for the army. We had no intention of trying a long distance relationship (a decision I still stand by), but now I feel like a lost puppy, it's shit! Methinks a good ol' rebound is he remedy I need but f*cked if I know where to start now.
dog boy
Likes Dirt
Girls have read the game? :O, Thats not good. Is there some sort of woman game book?