SOME GUYS JUST AREN'T CUT OUT FOR A 9 TO 5…
Since separating from my ex-wife, I’ve only really ‘dated’ one girl. Really? But you seem like such a catch Sean. I know, right?
Okay, so I get that a large part of this is self-inflicted but at the same time; there were girls whom I would’ve loved to have seen again but for whatever reason (mainly because the feeling wasn’t mutual), things didn’t work out. Caroline was the exception.
Remember how I’d previously mentioned that Northern Monkey had teed me up with that line from ‘How I met your Mother’?
Oh no that’s right; you’d only know that if you read my book. Oh well. I guess you’re just going to have to buy a copy then aren’t you? *
Forget the wink. Look at the little tongue poke!
Well it was with her. And such was his commitment to my cause that night that he even came back to her place to ensure that her friend – who was from out-of-town and staying with her – wouldn’t throw a spanner in the works.
And by that I don’t mean that he hooked up with her. He simply kept talking to her whilst Caroline and I were making out in the corner until she eventually passed out on the bed.
I didn’t actually sleep with her that night. I wanted to of course but she was having none of it. Partly because she wasn’t that sort of girl but partly because her friend had relegated us to the living room couch. And I’m sure ‘that’ would’ve violated acceptable hygiene rules when you’re living with six other women. Six other men; I’m not so sure?
So the next morning when she asked if I was actually going to call her, I responded ‘yes’. Not just to get into her pants – though this did happen the next time we met – but also as there was just something about her.
Unfortunately the timing wasn’t great. And due to a month-long holiday that she’d planned before we met and a return up north for Christmas, I only saw her twice in the two months that followed. But we stayed in touch the whole time and not only was I really excited to see her again in January, I was even beginning to think:
Maybe this could go somewhere?
I forget now who we’d played but Arsenal had won the early KO game that Saturday and my instructions were to pick up two bottles of wine before heading to hers that afternoon. Luckily there’s a Tesco Express opposite Gloucester Road tube station. There’s also a KFC.
So after confirming my wine selection with her, I popped in for an amuse-bouche (a Fillet Tower box meal) before the main course. Of SEX.
Now in addition to being fairer than most Tamils, not having hair like a LEGO character and not being able to speak our language; the other telltale sign that I may in fact be the milkman’s son, is that I have a very low tolerance for spicy food. And although I knew it could lead to trouble later on, the Asian in me just couldn’t let the hot wings go to waste.
Caroline’s place was only 5 minutes away from the station and I was conscious that she might be wondering where I was. But after the beers at the football, I couldn’t take any chances and nipped downstairs to take a leak.
Noticing there was no one else in the gents I decided that was also an opportune moment to relieve some wind as I was feeling a little bloated after my feast.
It seems that the Colonel might have been lying all these years and may also have hailed from South Asia. That or my stomach was way more sensitive than I’d realised, as within seconds I’d managed to shit myself.
Thankfully I hadn’t put my back into it. But I’d lifted my right leg off the floor ever so slightly for comfort, meaning some debris had reached some places it really shouldn’t have.
I clasped my butt-cheeks together as tightly as possible once I’d realised what had happened and contemplated my next move. I needed to get to the cubicle post-haste but was also very conscious of doing further damage. So much like the way Spiderman moves along an apartment windowsill when he’s searching for the bad guys, I carefully side-stepped my way to freedom.
There was no time to dither and I simply went for it Shit Break style; complete with shudders, squeals and the occasional knee jerks.
I don’t care what you say. The original Pie is still a classic.
Thirty minutes, five flushes and numerous tears later, the evacuation was complete. Don’t quote me on this but the radius of the toilet roll was about 10cms when I got there and around 7.5cms when I was done. But as if what I’d gone through wasn’t bad enough, I still had to clean myself up and make it to Caroline’s, who by then had rung me three times.
I’m not sure how many of you have been in similar situations as an adult but trying to manoeuvre your way out of shit soaked underwear is no easy task. As not only does one need to avoid contact between turd and skin but also between turded clothes and non-turded clothes.
Slipping my trainers off was easy enough. My jeans on the other hand were a lot trickier; especially as they were bunched up around my ankles with my boxers. Yet somehow I managed it without any visible transfer.
I couldn’t handle the thought of my bare feet potentially coming into contact with anything so kept my socks on as I lifted my feet up and carefully slid my boxers off, flicking them as far away as possible from me with my right foot (which in reality was only about 50cm). I don’t know if the person on cleaning duty that day will ever read this story but all I can say is:
Sir / Ma’am, I truly am so sorry for what I put you through and if you can prove to me that you were that person, I’d like to take you out for dinner. Though not at KFC.
Even though I’d successfully ‘disposed’ of my boxers I was still very concerned that there might actually be shit on me and though incredibly risky, I took the decision to exit the cubicle and ‘wash myself’ at one of the sinks. And by that I mean, throw handfuls of water onto my thighs and butt-cheeks and run back inside to dry myself off with the remaining 7.5cms.
Sorry, but I’d like you to take some time to picture just how awful this situation was. I mean there I was; a grown man, sneaking around a KFC toilet in only a jumper and socks, throwing water on his nether regions.
Like this but not nearly as fun
All I can say is, thank god a kid didn’t walk in as there’s a strong chance you wouldn’t even be reading this story on account of my being in fucking jail! But I figured I’d made Caroline wait that long. The least I could do was turn up not looking like shit. Literally.
So after the most nerve-racking minute of my life and a couple more flushes, I was finally ‘ready’ for my date.
I called Caroline straight away to explain the delay, siting a very important call from a family member. In an ideal world I would’ve told her the truth and the first thing I’d have done when I got to her place would be to take a shower and burn my clothes. But clearly this wasn’t appropriate behaviour for a fourth date (third really, if you think about it).
So when it eventually got to the part where we’d be doing the Wild Thing, my hope was that it’d be with the lights off and my clothing preferably buried somewhere on the other side of the room.
But you know what they say about the best laid plans.
I don’t know if it was just because we hadn’t seen one another in over three weeks but we completely skipped the pleasantries and started going at it on the staircase up to her room.
Me: “Erm, shouldn’t we probably go to your room?”
Caroline: “It’s ok, my flat mates are all out.” And with that she pushed me up against a wall in the landing before ordering me to take my jumper off.
Now on the previous occasions we’d been together the sex was good but it was fairly vanilla. And getting head wasn’t even remotely on the cards. So when her mouth started moving downhill, so too did my earlier plans. Fuck it. You’re about to get your dick sucked.
I still recall her surprise upon noticing that I wasn’t wearing any underwear and I dismissed it with a truly awful line that I just can’t bear repeating. However it seemed to do the trick as she quickly returned to unfastening my buttons and pulling my jeans down. All that was left for me to do was, well… nothing really.
I was just like Clinton all those years ago with Lewinsky, except there seemed to be a distinct lack of sucking. And when I peered down to investigate, Caroline was actually underneath my cock, seemingly fascinated by something on the floor.
Although I had a fair idea of how this might end, I played dumb and asked her if everything was ok? To which she responded “oh god, I think I’m going to be sick”, before running down the stairs to the bathroom.
With her head no longer obstructing my view, I leant forward for a better look and running down the back of my right, WHITE sock was a solid streak of turd… I was wrong.
This relationship wasn’t going anywhere.
If you liked this then I suspect you might also enjoy my book. Or not.
Either way, thanks for reading; particularly to those of you who share these stories and/or leave comments.
Loools…turds on your socks….that was horrible though, thankkfully you bounced back from that incident. My advice…carry baby wipes around with you…and avoid spicy food. Boiled cabbage should be fine 🙂
Baby wipes saved me on more than one occasion when I was travelling man… Roger that on the boiled cabbage.
Wow…. should I be glad that our plans for a date when I was in Blighty a few weeks ago didn’t work out? 🙂 Or maybe next time I should just bring some Depends with me and we can go out for a good spicy curry! xx
Presumably Depends is some form of adult diaper..? But yes, perhaps it was for the best. Though it was a shame we couldn’t make it happen. If we ever do meet, curry will most certainly NOT be on the menu. It’s like fucking kryptonite to me!
Depends is that – adult diapers!
You do realize the second best place to get a good curry is London….but fine, we can go elsewhere although I am completely vetoing fish and chips!
I’ll be back in the summer I expect. We’ll make it happen 🙂
Oh. And by that last comment I don’t mean it’s like the act of actually trying to penetrate a green rock. I was simply trying to infer that it renders me completely useless.
Hehe – no worries mate!
This reminds me of ‘battle of shits’ from Harold and Harry!! ROFL
Oh man. I just had to Google that (I thought you might have meant Harold and Kumar)… Yup, it was pretty similar. Though my experience had a lot more limb shaking.
I meant Harold and kumar. Lol. . I remember “battle of shits” more promptly than the movie name :p
And, your story will keep my craving for KFC hot wings at bay, which was a hard thing to do before. Thank you.
Glad to be of service.
Dude, I laughed so hard my kids asked me if I was okay… don’t worry, I didn’t read the story to them. What a total schnozzle – but a great story. Thanks for the laughs. Holy crap… And I dunno, the Tesco reference set me off too, cause that’s a part of my old hood.
LikeLiked by 1 person
If I made you laugh that hard then my work here is done man…
Though tell me more about Tesco. Do you mean you used to work there? If so, don’t tell me it was at that branch?!
No, nothing like that, I left when I was 8. I remember Tesco being that great shrine where all my dreams came true… or something like that. I was kind of a twit as a kid.
I’d like to say I sympathize with you.
But really, that’s beyond my wors-
You have my full sympathy.
Was there a follow up date?
A visit from the Guap? This is big.
Ha. Thanks for the sympathy man. And unfortunately no. I tried naturally but I think some hurdles are too big to overcome…
I havent laughed this much in a long time……and I laugh alot! I have to know how it ended….A handshake…A hug…..Lets take a raincheck….. Awesome! 🙂
Glad to hear it Tia. And you’re only the second person to ask me that.
As I mentioned to V above, I shouted out to her if she minded if I kept the wine and then dragged my shitty arse out of there.
I did text her later to see if we could move past it but I guess there are some things you just can’t forget, hey..?
Criminy, man. I’m speechless. And you know this doesn’t usually happen to me.
It seems I have shocked many readers with this one. But to leave YOU speechless? I am currently a very happy man. Which certainly makes up for the way I felt that day…
PS – Thank you for criminy. I’d never come across that before.
Where do you get this stories! Don´t know don´t care, but you make me roll around in the floor with laughter….like a little girl.
Long time no read you Mr. Smith! Had fun reading this one too, actually have fun reading all, and no I won´t send you naked pictures. You gave me an idea, going to write a dirty post and post it tomorrow, see if someone reads it and if I get some more enemies.
Stay Frosty gent.
Yeah, I hadn’t done any posts in a while man. But I’m glad to see that you’re still enjoying them.
As for where I get them..? Embarrassing things just keep happening to me man, what can I say.
Hope you keep getting in embarrassing things, hope to read a book from you.
Stay Frosty gent.
Wow. That’s quite some ‘first post’ to read on one’s blog 😉 I’ll be back, despite the feeling in my stomach…
…or maybe because of it?… *shh*
Yes, sorry about that. Though I’m afraid that’s pretty much the level of intellect / writing you can expect over here. I understand if you choose to stop reading…
Oh man, I would have laughed in your face. This is awesome. Thank you for sharing it.
Really? Man, you just get cooler and cooler.
Ready for it? I make the meatballs!!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Okay don’t tell Weebs, Jen, Molly or Aussa. But you’re now my favourite.
Oh my dear goodness gracious. I’m having to suppress my laughter because I’m reading this in bed (not alone! Yay!) and don’t want to wake my companion. It’s a struggle. A lovely struggle.
Ha. Well I’m very pleased to hear that you’re laughing. Though I’m sorry about the struggle…
I hope you didn’t wake him, the lucky bastard.
Oh. My. Good. God.
I get these little boxes popping up, “people you follow, follow THIS.” And I wonder, yeah, whatever. How much do they pay WordPress for that?
So I clicked. And read. I’m separated. No dating. No. Way.
Hilarious. Sad. Disgusting. Okay, I’m following. Whatever you paid WP, you got your money’s worth.
What IS it with Fuck her to the Max, or Max Fucker her, or whoever that is? All I know is, teenagers keep telling me about this dude who screws chicks with colostomy bags. Just so he can say he effed the shit out of them. Is this a running theme here?
“Hilarious. Sad. Disgusting.” Maybe I should have used that as the title of my book..?
Ha. I can assure you that no money exchanged hands. Though it’s lovely to have you on board – many of the people I follow, follow YOU. I can see why.
As regards your last point; I believe you’re talking about Tucker Max, right? If so, I have never come across that colostomy bag concept – if that’s true, it’s disgusting. Certainly no running theme… This just happened to be another rather embarrassing incident that I thought I’d share.
Yes, Tucker Max, indeed.
And this is in one of his books. But aren’t all of his books about how many women he nailed in college?
I am a new fan of yours.
The separated/divorced dating scene here is so horrific, I wouldn’t even post about it. You are brave AND funny. Carry on!
Thank you kindly Samara. I really appreciate that. Ah yes okay, I see where you were coming from now…
But my book is actually the complete opposite. It’s a collection of the times that I’ve blown it with women. There have been many unfortunately.
I will have to check it out.
Or at least more of your blog.
Dating sucks. Women are idiots. Hang in there.
Dating does suck. Men definitely are too.
count me as another dumbfounded reader.. I am not sure how I would have reacted. I suppose it depends on exactly how the poop was lined. Chunky? Still wet? Combo? A lot of smell lingering? ( sorry just threw up in my mouth a little bit) HA similar to the saying that Eskimos have several different words for snow. You now need different words for poop socks.
The only thing that would have made this any better would have been someone innocently walking in while you waddled about half undressed!
Why are poop stories so funny and repulsive at the same time?
Even the comments are thought provoking, some things I just take for granted everyone knows. I suppose everything I had to make up a definition for in what you wrote is equal to your “Depends”. You made up the right answer. I probably did too. or close enough.
PS I must correct my email timing….. however I was feeling no pain at the time, busy working out with my 12 oz curls!
Ah. Welcome back my dear. Though I’m really sorry to say that I don’t think I understood about half of this comment?
I was alright with the whole ‘what type of poop was it?’. To which the answer is always, the WRONG TYPE. But the second half left me a bit stumped…
Have you been drinking?
Not yet today, I haven’t even had lunch yet. I don’t like to start drinking until I have had at least one meal. ;D
How did you not notice the sock? or did it not leave a trail down your leg? was it a jumper?
Are you stumped with the cultural aspects of our language? When I read the comment about ‘depends’ I knew exactly what she was talking about. You guessed correctly.
you mentioned wearing your “jumper”. I don’t believe a male here would be caught dead in what I believe a jumper to mean.
I guess I found more questionable terms in this post that I had to make up meanings for.
Sheesh Sean. I haven’t been away that long!
Okay, I’ve re-read all the comments and the actual story and I still don’t know what the ‘depends’ comment is..? HELP ME!
Ha. When I say jumper, I guess I mean what you’d call a sweatshirt? Not some knitted item that my dad would wear.
With regard to the sock, I think it must’ve got there when I kicked the boxers off of me. And when I was performing the ‘clean-up operation’ I was mainly focused on my butt cheeks and the area around my junk.
We good now?
19th January 14
“Wow…. should I be glad that our plans for a date when I was in Blighty a few weeks ago didn’t work out? 🙂 Or maybe next time I should just bring some Depends with me and we can go out for a good spicy curry! xx”
Depends are adult diapers. Just as you guessed. Am I paying too close attention? I don’t want you to think I am stalking you…
Ahhhhh… I see. And don’t worry, if anyone’s stalking anyone, it’s probably me.
Little girls wear jumpers here. totally different animal.
Holy Shit! Like, literally I guess. Man, you have the worst luck sometimes.
You know all those times when women say, “You should have told me the truth! It would have turned out better than if you lied.”
Yeahh, you probably could have spared her the most dank smelling date ever.
I know, right? In hindsight, I definitely should have just gone home. But you know, there was potential for some p-in-va-g… That always comes first Lara.
I’m amazed by your reluctance to have told her the reason for your being late. This would have been perfect 2-3rd date ice breaker conversation. A great way to weed out the unworthy “Oh you don’t think this is funny? OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!” you know, like the princess and the pea story. Not that I’m comparing your jewels to a pea. But maybe I am…
Did I miss out the part where you explain what you did with the soiled boxers?
Marie! Lovely to see you again.
What? Are you crazy? No one wants to hear that, surely. And the pea comparison is about right actually.
It seems you did my dear. For they were left behind at KFC and were also the reason for the stain on my sock… Tut, tut. The Marie I used to know wouldn’t have missed that kind of detail.
I was wondering about the trash, and the person who may have rummaged through the trash, and their finding. People do rummage through the trash right? I missed that part.
I’ve returned to the roller derby track, and I’ve also returned to a world of pain, so that’s my excuse for missing details. I was also stumped by the term jumper. What’s a jumper? I tend to imagine it’s that one-piece suit babies wear to make them look like train engineers. Then with that mental image, I pictured you, everything wrapped around your ankles, hopping around the public restrooms of a KFC, sweating frantically. And then I thought of the pea. And laughed. And prayed you wouldn’t get caught, naked, a chunk of dung hanging from that sausage link you wished you hadn’t eaten the day before suddenly feeling very sympathetic to all the dogs in the world who endure that daily. So I apologize if I missed out on the details of what you did with the soiled boxers. All this because I don’t know what a jumper is, nor do I understand why that term is used if its reference to a t-shirt, or a sweatshirt, or anything that isn’t made for jumping around in… 🙂
Ha. You’re the second person to take issue with my use of that word. Perhaps I should change it for the book..?
don’t change a thing. just let us in on the secret of what it is… i’m still clueless.
Ah okay. I think it’s what you guys would call a sweatshirt. Or a pullover. Do you have those?
No. We don’t have sweatshirts or pullovers here. We just go by in life shirtless and freezing. 🙂 We most likely call them hoodies (if they actually have a hood, which is a strong pre-requisite for being called a hoodie).
This is the second time I read this and I laughed just as much. So, so many shades of wrong! Loved it.
Honestly, that would make an awesome book title: “So many shades of Wrong”. I wonder if I change mine..?
The fact that you are laughing the second time around makes me very happy. Thank you Evie.
Oh Sean, this is the second post I have read of yours and OH MY! Sorry to have laughed, but now I am following. Does that make me weird? BTW, thanks for the like on my 2013 post.
Ha. Judging from some of the other responses to this post, I’d say it makes you perfectly normal. Apparently people seem to enjoy laughing at my misfortune..? I hope the other posts don’t disappoint.
No worries on the ‘like’. You definitely experienced a lot in 2013.
This is priceless! Nasty…but priceless. I probably would have begged off. Cuz when it comes to montezuma’s revenge, you can never be quite sure when you’re out of the woods in the first 24 hours. I would have been terrified of “burping in my pants” so to speak, during sex! And wroth a woman’s anatomy, but sure clenched ass cheeks and sex can even be done.
Great humor aside (and it’s pretty damn great) what struck me the most about this was your sweet enthusiasm about seeing her again. I LOVE that!!
I honestly thought she was the one! Clearly not…
Glad you enjoyed it. And by the way after reading your comment on the ‘How to STAY single’ piece, it seems like you may be under the impression that this is a blog about dating and such? I guess in some ways it is but most of the material will be fairly crude, poorly written trash… I understand it you stop reading.
PS – ‘Burping in my pants’: I may steal that.
Sean, are you getting shy on me now?
If there’s one thing I’m not, it’s shy – at least on the blog. I was merely letting you know what you were getting yourself in for by choosing to read these stories.
Sounds to me like you’ll be just fine though.
Have you read my stories?? I will be reposting ” Stephen..
the end of my re-virgination period” about my hook up with a 28 year old after 12 years with no action!
That’s very sweet of you. Thank you. You seem like a nice guy.
A nice guy who’s more than capable of being a dick at times… But thanks.
If that’s true, at least you’re giving women a shot at better understanding men. I love that. Also love the fact that you are so open. I’m so accustomed to being shut down by older gens ( when I was your age( that I’m loving the opportunity to be so candid! Although I often find myself (albeit metaphorically) looking over my shoulder waiting to be yelled at by someone to keep those thoughts to myself…like that one! Lol
You’ve got a book deal. It can’t be that poorly written! I like what I’ve read so far. It’s honest. Or am I being naive about that as well?
Oh no, there’s no deal; I’m self-publishing. I’m just doing so through a traditional publisher rather than on my own. It’s most certainly honest. Sometimes too much so!
I’m guilty of the same thing. And Good for you!! Is it an ebook? Let me know. I’ll buy it.
First of all, congratulations once again on your book. I may have to just buy a copy. Secondly, I had no idea you were once married. Did I miss something? Am I not as observant as I thought I was? Perhaps this is the coke talking, but I had no idea.
Thank you (once again) Miss Steele. I’d be honoured if you picked up a copy but no pressure. Plus I’m sure there are much better ways to spend one’s money…
Ha. No it’s probably my fault as I’ve deleted one or two posts – not that I go into much detail about it all mind you.
I do mention being divorced on my about page though. Which is probably why I just drop it in there every now and again.
I always thought guys shitting themselves was something that only happens in American movies and not in real life. Guess it must be to do with standing up to pee. Cause when women pee they often crap too, but there isn’t an issue, for obvious reasons. Now when they invent urinals for women…or when women feel free to just let off a blast any place, THEN we’ll start featuring in shitty-pants stories!
I welcome that day with open arms!
HAHAHAHA, I don’t know when, how or why I missed this !!! I’m sorry you had to experience that but I’m not sorry we got this story out of it ! If this is how great your book is going to be, Congrats on the next best book of the town.
Although I don’t understand one thing, Being an Asian, how do you not have a tolerance for spice??? Asia IS spice !
You’re too kind my dear. Thank you very much. I’m actually going to make an announcement about the book next week. Hopefully people shan’t be disappointed with it.
Ha. With regard to the spices, I honestly have no idea?! I must’ve been switched at birth.
Disappointment and Sean’s book are like the antonyms of each other..Puft !
And you better digging out your birth certificate because I think you are right ! 😀
Omg, I shouldn’t have read this one. The image if the sock is seared into my mind. I think that any temporary lusty feelings I felt for you have been replaced by the turd sock. Lol, though!
There’s always that danger when women hear this story. It was fun whilst it lasted though…
Ah, we can still have fun. I’m a shameless flirt 🙂