posted
Also, with some non-contagious illnesses, you can claim that it's you who's suffering from them. You wouldn't even have to be subtle about it "Come on, I'll be dead in a month. Just put it in your mouth. Oh don't be a selfish c*nt. I'm dying and you're worried about what your husband will think. Yeah, that's it. Open wide. It's the least you can do." Probably won't be the most rewarding blow job ever, but it's all grist etc.
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posted
Also, it could work the other way. Might be worth cruising round a hospice seeing who wants one last bonk before they die but is too skeletal/ bald/ sore-y to be able to pull in the usual venues.
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posted
After all, banging drunk 19 year old bank tellers in sparkly dresses must get a bit samey after a while. I imagine the experience would be a bit detatched. If you were nailing someone who knew she only had three weeks to live because of her brain parasite they'd probably be much more in-the-moment. And you'd be doing a good deed. You could claim you were a decent human being, if you were doing that kind of work.
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posted
That's not too bad. I remember I was dating this girl right after my divorce...a skiiny, aging punk girl. After a hanful of dates we got to talking about this very subject, so I asked her how many partners she had had. She thought about it for an uncomfortably long amount of time and finally looked me in the eyes and said I don't know...maybe 60 or 70. I nearly feel off my chair. I mean, wtf? She was in her early 30's at the time...so assuming she became active at the age of 16, that's roughly 3.5 different men per year. At what point does the word whore enter into things?
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posted
It depends really on what you count as a partner though doesn't it. There have been loads and loads of girls I've messed around with, to one degree or another, but haven't actually had penetrative sex with. So for me the figure could be in the 20s, or a lot higher. Depending.
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I dunno. I'd cheerfully have slept with 70 women if the opportunities had arisen. I just never really got into trying to get laid. I'd always just wait for sex to land on me, without me having to put much effort in, which maybe happens more often for girls than for guys.
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quote:Originally posted by Ringo: It depends really on what you count as a partner though doesn't it. There have been loads and loads of girls I've messed around with, to one degree or another, but haven't actually had penetrative sex with. So for me the figure could be in the 20s, or a lot higher. Depending.
I'm counting only penetrative sex, here. You've got to have a system, or it just descends into chaos.
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Vaginal or anal, I reckon. I'd say 'vaginal only', but if you banged a chick in the ass without ever going for the crotch then fair play - that almost deserves some kind of bonus score. Blow jobs don't count, everyone knows that. You have to have been allowed access to the most closely guarded orifices. That's what it's all about.
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quote:Originally posted by ralph: At what point does the word whore enter into things?
About the time she starts taking money for it?
Does dinner and a movie count as taking money for it?
I wondered the same thing...if she was just counting guys she messed around with or encounters that involved actual penetration. She was talking penetration. I never bothered to ask what the number would be if we were just talking about messing around.
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quote:Originally posted by ralph: Does dinner and a movie count as taking money for it?
No, unless she would exchange sex for dinner and a movie, with literally anyone. In which case the number would probably be higher than 70.
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By a quick count, for me it's 12 that I can remember. Probably more. But it was pretty surprising to think about how many girls I've had very in-depth experiences with, without actually, y'know, fulfilling the criteria.
It does mean I've technically had more cars than women. Not in a sxual way, of course, that would be wrong.
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quote:Originally posted by Thorn Davis: No, unless she would exchange sex for dinner and a movie, with literally anyone. In which case the number would probably be higher than 70.
I met a few of these guys...after we had stopped dating. I suspect she would have done it with literally anyone. She wasn't a big fan of film though, which is what probably kept her number down.
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quote:Originally posted by Ringo: it was pretty surprising to think about how many girls I've had very in-depth experiences with, without actually, y'know, fulfilling the criteria.
Regardless of the criteria, I would never be able to include one of the most uncategorisable relationships I've ever had, which was with a girl called Heather at uni. For three years we hung out, skipped lectures to go on drinking benders, went to gigs, exchanged course notes and all the rest of it but never explicitly broached the subject of becoming an item until right at the end of the final year where things culminated in each of us drunkenly confessing that we'd had the hots for the other since day fricken one, but other boyfriends and girlfriends had gotten in the way and then a crazy, heart pounding snog and a promise to work it out in the next few days. I remember running home and writing a note to all my housemates and putting them under people's doors saying "I snogged Heather!!!" The next few days came, and we were sat in a rock club, and I was dead excited (and drunk, obv) at finally being able to sort things out and she said "So what do you think then? What should we do?" and I sat down my drink, thinking 'OK! This is it! This thing that's caused me tears and heartache and yearning for three years is all going to come to a happy ending! I can't believe it!'. So she's sitting there waiting for my verdict and I open my mouth and say "I think we should just stay friends". Her face dropped, mouth open, eyes down, and I just carried on speaking, but with a kind of out-of-body moment where I was simultaneously saying "I can't see this working" and the real me was yelling 'WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SAYING!!!'. Then I finished my drink and went home in a daze. I never really worked out why I did that, except that she always had this entourage of guys trying to get into her knickers and I didn't really want to demean myself by becoming one of them. That's the best explanation I can think of, but mainly I reckon it's Sam Beckett's fault.
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Wow Thorn. I was sure that story was going to have a happy ending.
But you did remind me of a story of my own...one that took place way back in the early 80's. I had a huge crush on this girl Lisa during my senior year of High School. I never acted on it, as Lisa (as well as all girls during that awkward period of my life) was out of my league. I figured I'd never see her again after high school, but fate decided otherwise. About four years later, she took a temp job at the company I was working for. All the pain and longing came flooding back and, being four years older and slightly more confident, I asked her out. To my amazement she accepted, and we began seeing eavh other after work a few times a week. After about a month of this, I got a phone call at work. From her future husband. Who told me that if I didn't stop seeing her he'd kill me. Seems she had been having some relationship woes and essentially used me as a (very willing) pawn in her little game of revenge against her boyfriend. So I did what any decent man would do -- after work one night I pounded down a few six packs, drove over to his house, and beat the **** out of him for threatening my life. The judge let me go with a warning, as up to that point in my life I had no other incidents of violence of that nature. Posts: 7436
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quote:Originally posted by ralph: Wow Thorn. I was sure that story was going to have a happy ending.
Well, it has a happy ending insofar as I fell in love with someone else and got married. I can't see how a relationship with Heather could have ended in anything other than bitter shame and disaster. It's mainly notable for being a moment where I acted completely against my conscious will, and have never really understood how it happened. It was like some part of me that I've never heard from before or since, woke up and took over to stop me from doing something that would cause me misery in the long run.
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I think I've told this on here before, but it's worth retelling
I was 16, in sixth form, and was yet to know the intimate touch of a woman. There was this girl in my form who I thought was painfully hot, and totally out of my league. Hung out with all the cool guys, who doted after her despite the fact she never seemed interested in any of them. Anyway, it was mentioned to me that she had mentioned me to someone, despite the fact we'd hardly ever even spoken to each other. So in a moment of uncharacteristic boldness, I asked her out. Even more shockingly, she agreed.
The next few weeks we spent loads of time together, going to the movies, hanging out with each others' friends, all that jazz. And in school I even enjoyed a patch of minor celebrity among the cool kids.
As I say, at the time I was yet experience my first taste of sex, but I decided that now was the time. I decided to make everything perfect - I made sure my parents would be out, cranked up the heating, set out candles, some soft music. She came over and we spent some time generally making out. I knew it was now or never, so I went for gold and started to unbutton her jeans. She didn't resist. I tentatively slid my hand down into her pants and started to explore. She laid back and stretched out her arms above her, obviously enjoying the moment. After a few minutes of this, I was gaining in confidence, and she was really getting into it. Then I felt something, quite faint at first, but that painfully familiar feeling in my loins. I was about to come. Right there, laying on my bed, my hand in the pants of the hottest girl I had ever met, still wearing my jeans, and I was about to blow it. I tensed up for a moment, tried all I could to stop it, but it was too late, and moments later it was done.
I panicked. In the space of a few short minutes my dream come true had turned into a nightmare. A hot chick expecting me to climb aboard, and there I am with my underpants full of rapidly cooling jizz. She noticed I had frozen.
What's wrong? she asked
I needed to think fast, but in my haste I simply made the situation worse.
I don't think we can do it, I said
I don't have a condom
That's ok, I'm on the pill, we don't need to use one this time
Curses. My one trump card had been rendered useless. Accursed female liberation. So I needed to think of a reason why I couldn't have sex. And the first thing I thought of was AIDS.
Well, you see, this guy I know. He died of AIDS. It was a long time ago and I'm ok about it, but when you've seen someone go through that, it makes you think. I don't want to take any risks. I'm not saying you've got AIDS or anything, I just would rather not risk it..
Suffice to say, she left fairly shortly afterwards. The next day I got a call from her while I was at work. She said she didn't see it working between us, thought it was best if we didn't see each other again.
So yeah, I blew my shot at this hot chick by implying that I thought she might have AIDS. And, I guess, to a lesser extend my messing myself in the pants...
quote:Originally posted by ralph: But how do you know for certain? Doesn't not knowing gnaw at your soul every waking moment? You don't have any regrets?
Yeah, I regret not getting together with her 18 months earlier, when a boozy, chaotic relationship with someone totally unreliable would have fitted my lifestyle extremely well. By the time it all came out, though, we were weeks away from graduating and about to go our separate ways. I spent the next 10 months miserable, stuck at my parents, posting off jornalism applications to That London and it would have been impossible to sustain a relationship in those circumstances. The alternative would have been even worse. Get a flat in a city somewhere just as our relationship was taking its first, faltering steps and hope against all the evidence that we spent our time looking for work rather than getting wasted and listening to Fear Factory.
Of course, 18 months earlier and I'd have missed out on some other relationships, and plenty of nights of simmering dramatic sexual tension with Heather. The more I think about it, the more it seems like it was the first sensible decision I ever made, regarding women.
quote:Originally posted by ralph: that's roughly 3.5 different men per year
although i do suffer froma virgin/whore complex like many immature men, 3.5 men per year really isn't an extravagant tally is it?
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quote:Originally posted by ralph: We've all been there, Ringo. Anyone who denies it is a liar.
Only happened to me once. I was going down on VP at the time. Shifted my weight causing a slight amount of pressure on my wodgel and Blam! all over the bedsheets.
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quote:Originally posted by vikram: although i do suffer froma virgin/whore complex like many immature men, 3.5 men per year really isn't an extravagant tally is it?
quote:Originally posted by ralph: We've all been there, Ringo. Anyone who denies it is a liar.
Only happened to me once. I was going down on VP at the time. Shifted my weight causing a slight amount of pressure on my wodgel and Blam! all over the bedsheets.
I think probably I had been moving my hips around a bit without noticing. I was lying on my stomach at the time.
But hey, it was like 10 years ago and I'm well over the incident.
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