Too many worms, not enough tequila
You know all about T, and I've mentioned the stalker bf before, so I think today I'll tell you about W, and then you can draw your own conclusions about my prejudice against the welsh. W was welsh. I mean, like, really welsh. He spoke welsh, and in particular, he spoke welsh to his welsh housemates and excluded me from the conversation; he wouldn't speak welsh just for me, as a party trick, though. He did his degree and his PhD at Bangor University. He didn't think his parents would like me because I wasn't welsh.
I'm not saying he was a w@nker just because he was welsh; there were plenty of other clues. He was going out with someone when I first slept with him, but he didn't tell me about her until later. We conducted a long distance relationship between Leeds and Bangor, back when we had neither the finances nor the facility to see each other every weekend, and before I'd even heard of email. We wrote long letters, and apart from casually mentioning that he thought he would definitely like to spend the rest of his life with me, he refused to discuss the future. The sex was awful, but I didn't know any better at the time.
Part of his surname was "Rhys," which he always pronounced in the welsh way, and why shouldn't he? Why? Because when you're in an optician in Leeds asking them for the glasses you ordered the day before, they're not going to find them if they think you are saying "Hearst" and you refuse to spell the name to them on the grounds that you believe their ignorance of your language is a personal affront.
He tucked his vest into his underpants.
He had two close female friends, who he mentioned a lot in conversation but managed never to introduce me to. Eventually he went to stay with one of them for two weeks during the summer vacation, and never came back. I think his words were now that I know you better, I don't want to spend the rest of my life with you anymore.
The feeling was instantly mutual. W@nker.
I'll have that can-opener back now, I don't think we can take any more of the emotional deluge. All drinks will be doubles today.
Kate can continue to giggle over her vodka&tonic; Mark can mutter into his vodka mule, and maybe switch to Guinness with Gordon later. Stu can do whatever it is one does with a papa doble.
Spengy had better have two beers. Or three. Adrian and emma can share the bottle of JD, and Mike can sip his nashi pear and lychee martini, which sounds like something I want some of.
Mr D hasn't really earned the "smug off" vodka he asked for, and I'm not sure Jann deserves the bottle of glenlivet, either; so I'm giving both of these to Graybo, who didn't ask for a drink.
Happy Friday!
Many thanks for the drink, but "it has to be false"?
Would I lie to you?
Mark · November 21, 2003 14:47Can't be bothered to recount any tales of woe. Writing support email for the next 9 hours is tedious enough. Can I have a beer anyway?
Count 'Pops' Docular · November 21, 2003 14:53Don't deserve it?
How else am I going to get the taste out of my mouth?
Jann · November 21, 2003 15:12cheers.
kate · November 21, 2003 15:49Mark: Lie is a strong word.
Karen · November 21, 2003 16:00Nick: No, no beer if you don't give us a story.
Jann: Spit.
Kate: fly with the wind?!
But not as strong as the Moscow mule, for which I thank you again.
Mark · November 21, 2003 16:02Thank you kindly for my half of the bottle of JD.
emma · November 21, 2003 16:07fly like the wind, karen, c'mon please get it right.
argh.
*drinks lots* *throws up*
kate · November 21, 2003 16:08Sorry. May have had one too many. Perhaps I should have asked for the stupidest thing anyone has ever said to you in bed. Maybe next week.
Karen · November 21, 2003 16:12You've made my whole week...
...I'll see myself out.
Jann · November 21, 2003 16:17Okay. Here's a story. My first serious relationship was rubbish, and it was mostly her fault. Now can I have a beer?
Count 'Pops' Docular · November 21, 2003 16:20Please?
No. That's not good enough. Of course it was mostly her fault.
Karen · November 21, 2003 16:23The stupidest thing anyone has said to me in bed?
OK. First boyfriend, early morning, his place in Clapham, early 1983.
"Don't move. Just...don't move."
"Huh?"
"I can see the sun rising above your arse, and it looks beautiful."
mike · November 21, 2003 16:29Mike, that's hilarious.
And I'm now off to make my own pint of black russian, as it appears to have fallen off the tray at some point 'twixt bar and table...
Lyle · November 21, 2003 16:30Sorry Lyle, just that I had to post early in case I didn't make it back from my meeting.
Help yourself.
The stupidest thing anyone ever said to me in bed is just tooooo stupid and embarrassing to write here.
Karen · November 21, 2003 16:33Fine. Mine's a glass of water, then.
Count 'Pops' Docular · November 21, 2003 16:33Mike, have you ever considered that the sun may have been shining out your arse.
I would say thats tounge in cheek, but it's just going to go down hill if I do.
Adrian Sevitz · November 21, 2003 16:37Adrian, I haven't just considered it...on the strength of this little episode, I know it. This knowledge has given me much comfort over the years.
mike · November 21, 2003 16:53Go you!
So you can turn around to people and answer
"Actually yes the sun does shine out of my arse. Thanks for asking"
Adrian Sevitz · November 21, 2003 17:06Actually, I'm sure I mentioned vodka and tonic, but vodka and Glenlivet will do just as well, thanks.
Graybo · November 22, 2003 12:07No she wasn't joking.
AND her name was Karen!
Gordon · November 22, 2003 16:33A friend of mine met and fell in lust with a handsome but rather vague French chap. An academic. On the third or fourth date they woke up in the same bed and she absentmindly put her glasses on (she'd been wearing contact lenses until then).
Daisy · November 24, 2003 16:20"Ah you look like zat Eenglish actor" he cried.
Puzzled, she wondered who he meant.
"Ah, you know heem, he is such a funny actor."
Hugh Grant? Rupert Graves? Paul McGann?
"Ah non" he replied. "Benny Hill".
Daisy - no -surely not...
Stuart · November 28, 2003 11:43