I never knew I liked her until someone else claimed her

This is a kind of angrily common occurrence for men. It is where you are there minding your own business and interacting in your normal life completely oblivious to the affections of a certain lady and then all of a sudden. Wham. Your mate declares that he is into her and you are like “Hold your horses there, I actually think I am quite fond of the old mare.” (internally)

It leaves me wondering, is it actually the fact that there is competition that actually spurs you on to. Like the last biscuit you weren’t arsed having but as soon as someone else goes in for the kill you are all “shit I really wanted that”. It is bizzare.

So there is this girl and to be honest I thought she had a bit of a thing for me the way she would piss herself at anything I said and also was kind of playfully accusing be of being a ‘total prick’ at every opportunity. That is a dead give away, it is the grown up version of pulling pigtails. Anyway, this other dude I know who had been with her friend until recently told me out of the blue that he was mad about her. It was far fetched, in hindsight, to think that he could get anywhere with her but he bulldozed into her, like a man overcome with emotions (would you believe) and confessed his interest with her. Telling the truth I was blindsided by his revelation so I was betting that she was too. And I was right.

Eventually she told him where to go, which was all she could do considering the situation (with her mate). My point now being that him confession of affection actually sparked a certain unknown interest that I had for her and now I seem to fancy her myself. I don’t know what it is but she kind of does something for me. She has a certain attractive demeanour, that is difficult to quantify. It was also sparked by I conversation I had with her about a fortnight ago where we told one another our complete life stories and we had an absolute blast. It is best described as ‘having a moment’. I think that set some kind of seed in me that has been kind of germinating for the last week. The fruit of which is the fucked up feelings I have towards her now.

The worst thing about it is the mixed messages I have been getting off her during the last few days. She seemed to brush off the great craic we had and now seems content to be just like ‘hi’ or even dismissive. I think this is actually amplifying my interest now. Terrible state to be in really.

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My secret sexual fantasies

The problem with working from home is that as a red blooded male I cannot be trusted not to look at porn. If you think about the amount of smut available on the web then working from home is the equivalent of setting up a desk in a porn warehouse the size of Croke Park and expecting to have the self restraint to prevent a peek.

I remember when we first got the internet, I must have been about 14, it was a pent-up teenagers wet dream come true (times ten).  Before I had the internet two days I had seen every category of hardcore porn imaginable. Without exception. My folks can scarcely have had an idea what they were bringing into their home.

Every so often I will feel tempted to look up a few of my favourite filthy sites. It comes in waves but I can see it happening less and less. Why? As weird as it sounds I’m getting sick of Internet sluts. Yes I have seen Japanese slags and Norwegian sluts and even English slappers but when I fancy some hand time I’m more likely to adjourn to the bedroom and fantasise about people I know. As fucking perverted as that sounds it’s true. If people who I have fantasised about had even the remotest idea what goes on in my head they would call the Gards.

I  have no proof that the following sentence is true but I believe it to be none the less. All men do this. You cannot just come out and ask a mate, “Alright man. Oh and there is something I have been meaning to ask you. Do you ever think about my girlfriend when you wank?” You can’t ask and they can’t tell but I would bet my house on it happening, because that’s what I get up to.

I don’t think of people in any kind perverted situations just the bog standard narcissistic fantasy. The kind of crap story lines that drive porn films in general. “I know I have been seeing your mate but sometimes I would like to be a little naughty” says sultry vixen – que jazz music.

I am of the firm belief though that as long as this stuff stays in my head I am not doing anything wrong. I actually feel like I know the difference between smutty fantasies to get you off and genuinely dangerous and obsessive thoughts about other women.

If I’m imagining a colleague wearing a french maids outfit and getting pounded by me in a dirty hotel room that’s fine, but if my working day in interrupted by thoughts of how lovely it would be to hold hands with her in the park, then I know I’m fucked.

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Filed under Horny, Internet, Ireland, Porn, Wanking, Women

How to break up with a girl and not make her cry, according to my mate

You really wouldn’t believe the cheek of this chap.

“I don’t think this is working out.

I just need to do my own thing for a while.

Ooh, just looking at your DVD’s there, can I have a lend of Michael Collins? I haven’t seen it yet. I can give it back with the rest of your stuff. Cheers”

Oh yes that actually happened, and he got the video and she didn’t cry. I know what you are thinking. This guy is a hero. But I disagree at least to a degree.

He is not a looker and to be honest he has the bizzare ability to attract absolute lunatics. One girl he went out with was a butch lesbian (or bi as she claimed). In that relationship, no messing now, he was the woman. I remember walking back from the pub with them and she had slung her coat around him to keep him warm. What a bitch. I actually really liked her. Lads being lads of course.

Over the last few years he has been on the conveyor belt of women. He is one of those gits that always does the breaking up (in start contrast to me I might add).  After his last escapade broke down, it being on life support from Christmas, he sat me down and went trough his little breaking-up routine. I found it cold but for your benefit I will share it with you.

Step 1. Be negative. About a week before breaking up, when she suggests something just go, “eh no – I’m eh busy and eh stuff”. This won’t go down well but it is important you send the signals out early. Some women will be all over you at this stage so for clingy bitches skip step one.

Step 2. Be incontactable. Spend about two days off the radar she will be getting a bit freaked out but it’s inevitable.

Step 3. Ring her and be nice. This is a bit of an art, you want to be nice but you have to jettison  any cutesy language especially saying “I love you” or “miss you”. Ask her about her life and stuff, stress the differences between you two. The purpose of this is that she doesn’t hate you so try and talk to her in a new post-relationship way.

Step 4. Send her the “we need to talk” text. It is critical that you send it before lunch, so she has all of lunch to figure out you are breaking up with her.

Step 5. The break-up. Meet somewhere neutral and not somewhere you used to hang around together, somewhere uncomfortably new. Then just be straight up with her and avoid giving specific reasons, just general crap. Be aware most of your words will be read into so don’t mention anyone else, whatever you do. Oh and don’t leave a night between the text and the break-up it’s cruel.

A word to the wise, don’t get into this shit it’s bad fucking carma and you become a shitty person. The nuns used to tell girls not to be sluts because having sex with people is like sticking sello-tape to them. The more you have sex with people the less sticky the sello-tape becomes and when you find the right person you will have no stickyness left. Okay, that is complete bollocks but I can see something similar infecting this guys thinking. He used to get worked-up about women and actually get genuinely upset when things go wrong. Now he is so cavalier towards relationships and so cynical he recently came out with “I don’t believe in love”.

Which prompted an appropriate “Shut the fuck up” from me.

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This is Ireland and it’s the weekend so get the Buckfast out, you twat

Buckfast, buckie, the buckster, you know the one. It’s the weekend what are you gonna do? Walk on the beach with your mother discussing why you aren’t a success? Maybe watch an interesting documentary on Discovery about sharks? Or maybe get out the pictures of your ex and place them on the floor of you living room and then ill-advisedly send them a text “thinking of you”.

Get a grip of yourself you massive loser. This is the hour of Buckfast. Get down the offo and grab a bottle and finally feel what it’s like to be alive. As the scorching goodness slides down your throat and you gag momentarily allowing the venom to trickle down your cheeks let all your conceptions of respect, of esteem, of self, slip into the ether. Come on.

This is Ireland, this is affluence, abandon the thoughts of buses and careers and grab boldly the moment of drunken delight. Sobriety is the most dangerous drug, together we can purge it. Where are your discussions of success now where are those sharks in your life. You’ll never see sharks in your life because you’re too afraid to walk outside your own door for fuck sake. Remember being younger, you were such a shit but at least you weren’t boring, you are now though, and you know you are now.

I know why your crying. It’s ’cause you know it’s the truth. Remember you wanted to be successful, remember you were going to be great, it’s okay to cry.

So iron your best shirt we are going out tonight, you moaning dickhead.

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Lent is making me horny

My relationship with lent is a little strange. For one I’m not really Catholic but from time to time I like to pretend I am. Especially when I feel like my lifestyle is turning me into disgusting toxic troll. When I need reprieve from the night after night of binging that usually accompanies the christmas period. Come Lent my arms are shamefully spread like the prodigal son wanting to be taken back to the promised land of clean living, so I usually try and give something up.

This year I have decided to give up smoking. As far as I was concerned for the last few years, I didn’t smoke. But what I did do is smoke almost every time I was out. That rather quickly developed into smoking with certain friends and then that developed into smoking on my own. Ok so it got to the point where I was pretty much smoking ten a day and just keeping my habit from certain disapproving friends, my girlfriend, and my parents. It was fucking pathetic to be honest. So eventually I started shouting at myself “Grow up you fucking twat, your not 14 smoking out the back garden, you spineless ponce!” (internally that is).

So Lent came up and it seemed like a good time to bust my own chops for a while as opposed to satisfying my whimsy which I am usually am. “Oh I think I’ll have a little cake with my tea.” – what a fucking loser.

So there I am off the smoke and like Jesus in the desert the devil the little fucker decides to throw something new into the mix. Without the usualammount of nicotine turning my blood into toothpaste my body has found new vitality or should I say below the waste has found new vitality. Erections have been revisiting my working day in a way that I thought was resigned to my spotty teen years. I also walk around with thisgowl on me for women that is veering dangerously into sex offender territory.  Like staring at women on the fucking bus – it is ridicuous.

Imagine trying to give up smoking and inadvertantly getting yourself on the sex offenders register. Unacceptable really.

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Filed under Dublin, Horny, Ireland, Lent, Smoking

If it is a choice between senile or dead ill take senile, thanks

I saw the film Venus recently. Peter O’Toole is absolutely brilliant as this cantankerous old pervert. I don’t want to get into a review but I will say that it is very worth seeing I like the way it courts the wholly inappropriate and makes it almost endearing. I also like films that have old people as their leads it is very un-Hollywood.

To make the point I set out to. In my family there is a history of getting soft in the head as you get older. My great Grandfather on my Da’s side was moved up to Dublin to be taken care of after his wife died and he caused people a lot of trouble getting on buses and being head strong about ridiculous stuff and causing mayhem. Before he died my Granddad told my Da that he would rather die than get ‘like that’.

This become more poignant with the fact that he (my Granddad) is now starting to display some of the signs of losing it. This is compounded by the fact that he is partly blind and partly deaf. He was at a political meeting recently and he tried to make a proposal but he just started babbling and was taken out for air. I believe it was very telling.

My own father smokes and in some strange way I think the effects of seeing these men crack plays into his decision not to quit. It is not as if he will openly admit this it is just that you pick up from his attitute towards old age. I don’t think that this is explicitly a reason because addicts construct the adhere to the feeblest of excuses to continue their habits. But I think if there was a bottom line of reasoning behind his decision not to take better care of himself, this is it.

I’m not saying that dealing with people who are suffering from alzheimer’s is not a terrible situation that I have any understanding of, but my Da is going to die much younger than his father. Granddad is nearly eighty and my aul lad is a long way off that and if he continues to live like he is he will be lucky to see seventy. You cannot live your life under the premise that the will happen to me, when you have no idea what’s in store.

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Filed under Da, Dublin, Ireland, Senility

This girl makes me feel special, by text

Well lets start with the history to this. Firstly, all through my teens I fancied this girl. She is quite good looking but that is not what is special about her. She makes you want to have sex with her. Some women make you want to settle down, some make you want to become more footloose and free, but she makes you want to lick her face and other stuff. Don’t get me wrong she is not sexy in a slutty tracksuit kind of way she is ravenous in a rather proper way. Imagine you are in a period drama about some hot lady of the manor and you are some peasant chap and it leads to a sexually charged fling, well she is lusty in that kind of way.

Well there is more to the story than that. For a good chunk of the time I have known her she was a girlfriend of a mate and what’s worse when they broke up he stayed extremely messed up about it for a very long time (about three years say). And to be perfectly honest if you looked twice at her it would be a bit of a betrayal.

All that said I saw her last weekend for the first time in ages and she was looking absolutely great. Many, many, girls I hung around with when we were younger turned twenty and just became elephants (or there abouts) but low and behold she is still an absolute cracker. And she is stylish too, you know it makes a big difference, if a girl is a total pig but she is stylish, you’re like okay.

SO we are in the pub and we are chatting away and she is being very animated towards me and telling me things, kind of private-ish, and she is crossing her legs towards me and I’m getting some rather serious vibes. I’m enjoying this to be honest because I have been feeling very horny lately and she is not even drinking so it is not like drink has entered the equation.

This is all very well and good but I have a girlfriend and as cutesy as this may sound I’m not going to pursue any extra-curricular activities. There is another reason for my unwillingness to do something I shouldn’t. I think this girl is not being completely genuine. I think that she knew all those years ago I was into her and in a particularly feminine way she likes keeping me that way. (Did I mention she is out of my league, well she is but only a little) Why do women like to keep men who clearly have no chance with them on a leash like that feeding them scraps. I would be quick to pick up on it with other people and not myself, as is expected I suppose.

The story concludes with a group of us moving off and herself staying put promising to see us later. So when I’m drunk I send her a text saying goodnight since we didn’t see her. Sounds innocent enough but being frank there was a certain inappropriate intention behind it. Which is bad, very bad.

So the next morning I’m sitting there thinking about all the foolish things I’ve done and I get a text. It is her and it is long. Within the text there are lots of direct references to things I had said the previous night and it was flirtatious and jokey and saying we should meet up.

I didn’t reply, but I thought about it.

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