Archive for February 2007
Went home with a girl from a bar one night and started getting down and dirty. I was completely drunk and suddenly realized that there was another bloke in the room, asleep on her floor. I asked her who it was, and she said, “it’s just my little brother who’s visiting from out of town.” That sort of killed the moment, as all I could think of is how angry I would be if I woke up and found my sister having sex with some random bloke. I got her to give me a blowjob instead, which was completely crap.
The next day I told my friend that I got a subpar blowjob from this girl, and he has told everyone, so now I have people I’ve never met before coming up to me and asking if I’m the guy who received the subpar blowjob.
Submitted by Alistair, United Kingdom
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I went on a cross-country teen tour for a couple summers in high school, and the second time around, I got lucky. Her name was Amber, and she was a total firecracker of a girlfriend: hot, adventurous, and horny, every high school boy’s fantasy. Problem was, this tour was heavily chaperoned, and finding time alone with Amber was difficult. Most nights, we stayed at youth hostels or in cabins, and the boys and girls were strictly separated. But as luck would have it, we had a couple nights ahead of camping in the woods. An ingenious plan was hatched.
Amber would be spending the night in a two person tent with her friend Sara, who just happened to be going out with my friend and tent-mate Matt. We agreed that at two in the morning, after everyone was asleep, Maria would slip out of her tent and sneak into ours. I would then sneak into Amber’s tent, and the two couples would spend the next three hours getting down and dirty. Condoms were purchased in anticipation of the campout, and the four of us could hardly contain our excitement.
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I had just moved out of my old apartment, but due to some poor planning, my roommate and I weren’t able to get a subletter and ended up paying rent on two places for a month. My wallet still hates me. My roommate had already moved across country, but I was still in the same city, so I planned a party on the final Saturday of our old lease. Since my former landlords were douches (for lack of a term which means more-douchey-than-douches), and since I didn’t have to pay a deposit on that place, I had no qualms inviting over 300 people, supplying a ton of booze, hiring a DJ, and throwing it down in the most down-throwingest style I could. When life hands you lemons, you throw a fucking party and serve the lemons with Jose Cuervo!
A few days before the party, I footed it over to the local pub to down a hard cider (what? I like cider!) and watch a little baseball. The regular drunken clientele were there, but there was also a new woman who appeared to be friendly with the bartender (always good), so I started up the chit-chat with her.
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“If you’re on the pill then we don’t need a condom. Trust me, I know when I’m getting an outbreak, and I’ve been totally clear for over a month now. It’s all good.”
Submitted by “It is SO not all good”, Age 23, Minneapolis, MN
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It was a small New England college - one devoid of the traditional raucous party scene that peppers the imagination when one thinks of college…or Girls Gone Wild. On this dreamy little campus, a wild night out consisted of hanging at the campus coffeehouse to hear the “hot” a capella group of the moment. On this particular evening, however, I was hoping for something more …
I was chilling out with a group of outcasts and miscreants - the typical sort that declares “Theatre Arts” as a major. And yes, I was one of them. We inhaled a little inhalant and imbibed an intoxicant or two to mellow out the mood. Then we settled into the dorm room of the femme fatale in question, which we filled with music both acoustic and deep.
As the conversation flowed, I found myself becoming more intrigued with “Emily” with each passing minute. We were both seated on her bed, but were separated by two others. As the evening wore on, one-by-one the group began to dissipate. Finally, I found myself alone with Emily sitting on her bed, just talking the night away. Despite our proximity, despite our privacy, I was not quite sure if we were just talking as friends, or if she was sending me signals. So we just talked some more. 2am, 3am and on….by 6am we had talked ourselves out, and decided it was time to call it a night….or morning. A quick hug at the door was all that I managed, and I left tired and disappointed. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t picking up any signals from Emily, but determined the next time we were alone, I was definitely going to make a move. Sadly, there was no next time.
Years later, I found out that Emily was perplexed I never made a move on her that night. Clearly, she thought being alone with her in her room on her bed throughout the wee hours of the night and morning was a fairly strong signal. In hindsight, that sounds like a pretty strong signal to me too.
Submitted by Jackson Caribou, Age 29, Boston, MA
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Unlike most college buddies who play the role of “wingman,” my group of friends thought it was hilarious to cockblock each other by any means necessary.
I was bringing a girl back to my dorm room (freshman in college) and things were going great (By great, I mean we were both really drunk). However, when we entered my room, the mood was ruined by a TITANIC movie poster pinned up on the wall over my bed. I tried to explain that my friends must have gotten back from the bar before us and planted it there as a joke. She wasn’t buying it, and clearly thought I had a thing for the movie.
“Why would your friends do that?” she asked dubiously. “You don’t know my friends,” I replied, but it was too late. I had lost her like Rose lost Jack to the Atlantic Ocean.
I DID find out which friend pulled the prank and got him back later that week while he was talking to a girl at the bar. “Hey Steve! How’s that herpes coming along?” I said with a pat on his back and then walked away. Steve didn’t get laid either.
Submitted by Chad, Age 27, Los Angeles
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Jody from Chicago is the winner of How Not To Get Laid’s first Valentine’s Story Contest! Her entry, SHIVERS DOWN HIS SPINE, received the highest average rating (4.42) of all six submitted stories as of Valentine’s Eve. It’s a funny cautionary tale which you should all check out if you haven’t. As our winner, Jody gets the How Not To Get Laid T-shirt of her choosing. What a prize!
Thanks to everyone who submitted and everyone who voted. Not bad for our first contest. I promise we’ll get back to our non-Valentine’s stories asap, and I urge you all to keep sending in those stories and keep spreading the word about the site. Thanks again!
A highly tolerable Valentine’s Day to you all!
— SF
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I was at a Singles’ Dance on Valentine’s Day and I was talking with a group of like-minded lonely souls. We heard rumors that at midnight the club was going to pump foam onto the dance floor, and one girl joked that, at this time, the organizers of the dance were going to force everyone to disrobe and have sex with each other. It became a running joke throughout the night, this countdown to midnight group sex.
I later started hanging out with this girl who was connected to that original group of people. We danced close, we drank, we laughed, and I was hoping this might lead somewhere. But then – thinking she was in on the whole “midnight orgy” joke – I made the mistake of asking: “So how long till we have sex?”
She wasn’t in on the joke.
Submitted by David, Age 24, Chicago
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I was dating a guy I probably shouldn’t have, but I was young (22) and I didn’t know any better. He was 30, he made a lot of money, and he was the sort of guy who liked to show you how much money he made, the sort who would aggressively pay for everything just to show you how little money mattered to him. At this stage in my life, I’d be repulsed by that, but at the time I didn’t know any better (or maybe I did but wasn’t listening to the voices in my head)
Did I mention he was hot? Um, yeah. He was kind of hot, which is probably why I let myself get swept up by him instead of running away.
We’d gone out a handful of times, and while we hadn’t technically slept together yet, we’d gotten pretty close. So when he told me he wanted to take me away for Valentine’s, I was pretty darn excited and very ready for the next step.
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Boys,
Here are some things for you to consider before you decide, like my ex-boyfriend did, to show up at your girlfriend’s doorstep on Valentine’s Day wearing nothing but a strategically placed heart shaped box of chocolates.
1. Don’t do this unless you happen to look really good naked. Most guys don’t. If you have to ask, you probably don’t either.
2. Remember that it’s February, and that means cold temperatures. Are you a pasty-faced white boy? Does your skin get bright pink in the snow? Do you think this makes you look sexier? Please see my first point.
3. Again, February. Is your girlfriend really gonna want to defrost you by pressing her nice warm body against your ice cold skin? Is that a Valentine’s treat for her? Not so much.
4. Yeah, still on February. Shrinkage, boys. Shrinkage. Not so hot.
And finally . . .
5. If #1-4 are not enough to dissuade you from this plan, please make sure you are 100% certain that your girlfriend is alone in her home before you trot your naked ass over there. In particular, I would make sure that her two older brothers have not just stopped by to say hello, as this could be unbelievably embarrassing for both of you and might just kill your relationship on the spot.
Submitted by Jody, Age 27, Chicago
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I got a sorry tale to tell. I was going with this mad hot chiquita who I knew from work. Slammin’ body. We’d been diggin’ on each other for a long time, and I finally got up the stones to ask her out. So we go out. Serious good time. Clothing was removed. Fun was had. I repeat: Serious good time. And our next date — you guessed it — Valentine’s Day.
Now, I’m not rich, but I know Valentine’s is a big deal so I gotta represent in a cashflow sense, dig? So, I make reservations at a top shelf seafood establishment, and we go, all pimped out in our finest attire. Let me tell you, my girl looked prime that night. And I looked good too (I must confess).
We order. Sea Bass for her. Tuna Steak for me. Rare. Midway through the meal, I start feeling queasy. I think, no problem, it’ll pass. But then it doesn’t. I excuse myself to make a trip to the Men’s, hoping for a Super-Duper Roto-Rooter Number Two to get me all cleaned out. But alas, no such luck. I come back and I’m sweating like nobody’s business. She tells me, “You don’t look so good.” I don’t feel so good. I think, if only I can get outside, get some fresh air, I’ll be fine. I pay up, and I start walking out with my girl, arm in arm.
And then, ladies and gentlemen, it hits me. Right on the sidewalk, yours truly gets down on his knees, faces Mecca, and vomits his holy guts out. It was intense. The yak splattered all over my fine blue shirt and — that’s right — my hot co-worker’s shoes.
Do I need to tell you what happened next? For whatever reason, my date seemed to find me much less sexy after my Team America upchuck spectacular, and we parted ways that night with only a kiss on the cheek. The moral of the story, my friends: Don’t order the tuna.
Submitted by Benny, Age 25, Atlanta, GA
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So one of my friends got asked out about a week before Valentine’s Day. She didn’t really like the guy but decided to say yes anyways because it was so close to Valentine’s Day. So on Valentine’s Day, they went to a nice restaurant and he shocked her by saying “I think I’m falling in love with you.” She stared at him, and bolted out of there as fast as she could.
Submitted by Jess, Age 18, Canada
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(4.72 out of 5)
