Worst date ever?

Lol, read this (its NSFW by the way):

http://forum.bodybuilding.com/showthread.php?t=120921191

About my worst date ever. Nothing truly shocking comes to mind, just the usual. I once had been chasing a girl for a while, and with no luck up until this point, when suddenly one day she texts me "I really want to go ice skating, and have nobody who wants to go with me, please come". Oh I came. Afterwards, I replied "Yeah of course", and off we went. It wasn't really that strange, I think we were 15 at the time, so ice skating was pretty common.

One small problem; I had never skated before. Not even roller skates or anything. I was a virgin (in every sense to be honest). Off we went, and with an ice rink full of expert skaters - or so they seemed - I held her hand romantically, stepped on the ice, looked in her eyes, and fell. I fell viciously to the ice. Taking her down with me. And she took down a couple of people standing near her too.

To have a whole rink of people laughing at you simultaneously isn't exactly the best way to get into a girls good books.

Another time, when I was 16, I went to a bowling alley with a girl and a few of our friends. We were getting on great, I was right in there, when one of my mates thought it would be funny to tell security that I had offered them weed in the toilets. Just like in the movies, in a darkened corner, I was moving in for the kiss, when suddenly two huge security guards grabbed me, and threw me out in a typically aggressive manner. "Don't think you can come here, and sell drugs you scummy bastard. Come back and we'll kick your teeth in". I was seriously baffled, what drugs had I been selling? But they scared me, and I went home for a pity wank. Later that day, I got a call from a few friends laughing their heads off, and all was revealed to me. Looking back, it was all very surreal. Why had they not just searched me or whatever? I guess they couldn't be bothered.

A bit more recently, maybe two years ago, I took a girl to a trendy bar she chose in a south-west London suburb. I've probably told this story before, it feels like it, but I'll brush over it quickly. So I had been told she was frigid etc, but things were going well, we had drank 3 drinks each, so we're feeling slightly loosened, she kept inching closer to me.

'Another drink?' I ask, she accepts. Things are going great, when I slowly touch her hand, which is almost on my fcking knee. Such a smooth move, a little touchy touchy, see how things are going, its worked pretty much every time before. It was like slow motion. Her facial expression went from joyful, to surprise, to sheer horror. 'Never been touched???' I thought to myself. She said something about not being that type of girl and walked out.

Then the barmaid brings over the two drinks I had just ordered. A Jack Daniels/Coke and a glass of Chardonnay. I hate drinking chardonnay, but I wasn't going to leave it there. Even the drunk old guy in the corner looked at me with pity.

Zoning Out

Lately I've been zoning out a lot, not knowing where time has disappeared to, and feeling quite detached from my surroundings. It's an experience I am relatively used to, although in recent years it had subsided. My most intense period of zoning out was probably when I was working at Charing Cross Hospital, as part of a work placement for uni. It was a time when I pushed myself to the limit in a sense. I was working two jobs, one of which was for my degree, and was running on empty long before I began a drawn out phase of cannabis, whiskey and eating problems, which left me a quivering pale slender wreck. I remember once feeling ill all the way to the hospital, where I worked unsupervised in an office-type setting, and I could hear a buzzing all around me. I put it down to the air conditioning, and about an hour into my shift, I went to the toilet cubicle to roll a spliff. As I sat down, the buzzing seemed to intensify, and the walls closed in on me. I sat there for what seemed like hours, before rushing outside for some air. I began to walk and walk, and the the next thing I know I'm about a mile away from my work place, with no jacket on in mid-winter. I got back to work, and looked at the clock, noticing that three hours had passed since I had gone to the cubicle. And nobody ever noticed. I guess that was worse than someone noticing.

Four years on, and I'm sat looking at my screen and seeing nothing but an indecipherable light. The buzzing has returned, and the urge to walk is there. This time I'm not stoned though, and go and smoke a cigarette which makes me feel worse. Still, I fine the courage to get back to work and do what I can.

I begin to conjur up the past whilst sitting at my desk. Sometimes trivial matters, sometimes digging up stuff that I had forgotten, but which clearly still bother me.

I stutter through the day, and then meet a girl I've been 'seeing' after work. I've seen this girl a few times, and I like her. Brunette, smart, decent body. But as soon as I meet her this time, I know its over. I feel bored, inexplicably. We go for a drink, and she talks about whatever interests her but leaves me cold, topics of conversation I would probably have enjoyed just a few days ago. As she talks, her face looks deformed to me. I begin to see things that I'm not sure are really there. She now repulses me. I deny myself the urge to vomit on her lap, or spit on her. She begins to repulse me so much.

I make my excuses, and leave early. Feeling guilty as always. I behaved impeccably, but such thoughts against her differentiate me from a proper person. I turn my phone off, and will now begin the mind fuck games that will force her away.





On a poker related sense. I think I've quit. I played a $55 tournament, as part of a syndicate on rtr, and I bust when making a play. I felt disappointed, but only because of the syndicate. For the first time in months, I actually cared that I had been bust. And there and then I decided I couldn't be bothered anymore. The bug isn't there anymore, I really don't care. I charitably hand my money to others by playing terribly, and yet get insulted as a 'donk'. What kind of sick game is it we play?

Sleep

I've recently experienced some difficulties in relation to my sleep patterns, and inevitably have struggled to wake most mornings. In an effort to correct this, I experienced some rather baffling occurances yesterday. As usual, I had arrived at work late, and reprimanded myself for such laziness, declaring that from this day forth I would start acting like a proper human being should; going to sleep early, waking on time, arriving at work promptly, and handing my days over to capitalism and my master.

On the journey home, the warmth of my crushed peers inside my central line train made me feel drowsy, and soon enough, I had dozed off into some kind of part-awake, part-asleep, part-trance-like state that only besieges me on public transport. I dreamt of green fields, a spring day, and the experience of contented nothingness. Whilst dreaming such things, I began to hear some ethereal music playing out of my ipod, which left me feeling further pleased with myself. I didn't realise I had such a fine choice of music on my ipod, and wow did it sound good now that it was appearing via my dreams. It sounded other worldly. I awoke two stops from home when a phone conversation of a fellow passenger - we were now overground - regarding what Dave had said about Kirsty behind her back had wormed its way into my dreams, ejecting me from paradise and back into the cattle class transportation that has become my second home.

At least the ethereal music kept playing, but it was beginning to die down, I went for my ipod to turn the volume up. And grasped a pocket full of air. I then realised I didn't have my ipod in, yet this music, that sounded so alive surrounded me. Was I in a half-dream like state? I began to panic slightly, and once calm found myself fighting the wind on my walk home. Where had the last 5 minutes of my journey gone? Where had the last 5 years gone, my id responded.

I arrived home, ate, had a shower, and once finalising my animalistic necessities, decided to do something that differentiates me from said animals, and logged onto facebook.

I was immediately struck down by something I find difficult to describe, as my newsfeed presented to me photos of my ex-girlfriend - the only girl I ever cared for - getting married. I really tried to find feelings of nostalgia in me, or hurt, or even happiness, but all I could feel was that she really shouldn't have chosen a 1930s vintage dress for her wedding. I was depressed by the photos, which resembled a past-gone era, shot in grainy film, where the whole world was murdering each other at a rate never before seen and poverty was a gift everyone could enjoy. I began to type my feelings in a message to her, before resolutely deleting this message before I had sent it. I didn't want to waste my time seeming like a bitter bastard, when in fact it would have been a political and economic observation, and so I did the right thing and deleted. I asked myself where the last minute had gone. It had gone where the last 8 hours had gone.

I occupied myself for the next hour by watching quality arts programming, such as 'Britains Young Hairdresser of the Year' before retiring to bed.

I dreamt I was at the poker tables, and kept getting dealt great hands. Rockets, Kings, Queens, Big Slick. And always cracked by the hammer. I awoke on time, hit the snooze on the alarm clock and felt great. I ate breakfast feeling light, feeling like I was floating on air. Then I heard an alarm noise. And awoke again. I was still in bed. I had dreamt I had gotten up. My physical urges for more sleep had outsmarted me. I didn't feel very good, and wondered where the night had gone, the last 12 hours since I had left work. I looked in the mirror, brushed my teeth. Where had the last 12 years gone...