Submitted by J. Wordsworth, Age 26, Seattle

I was a freshman in high school. I was 6’3″, skinny, wore glasses and took AP and honors classes. As you can imagine, I was completely inept when it came to girls. Utterly incompetent. I was incapable of saying anything remotely intelligent. I was also painfully aware of how awkward I was, which was a vicious cycle as far as my penis was concerned.

In my biology class I noticed this girl. She was attractive, and more importantly, she talked to me. More accurately, she had to talk to me as she was my lab partner. She was into drama and also ballet. I didn’t know why I was drawn to a girl with demonstrated flexibility at the time; I just vaguely knew that it was good for a girl to be flexible (probably natural male instinct). She also had a car. And a license. I was 15 and had neither. Perfect scenario for me.

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Submitted by lola harrington, Age 35, Mouseville, FL

it’s the early 90s, and i’m 19 and an undergrad at a college in florida’s capital city. i have broken up with my boyfriend who lived in the same apartment complex, but we still get on really well. so well, in fact, that i hang out at his apartment with his three other roommates. he and i stop sleeping together, but from time to time i sleep with his other two roommates … usually separately. ; )

unfortunately for the third roommate, i’m not into him. he’s overweight, a total loud-mouthed hick, pasty-white, and wore really unattractive glasses. he tried to guilt me into sleeping with him, and then called me a whore when i refused. i explained repeatedly that my involvement with his roommates wasn’t a free-for-all, but a
respectful arrangement that happened when we were available and amenable. guilting me into sex was not going to work, i explained, and neither would flattering me. he STILL didn’t get it. so he tried alcohol.

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Submitted by Evan, Age 22, Connecticut

I was at a bar in New York with my buddy Tim, and he started chatting up this brunette who was — to put it kindly — dumb as paint. She was a party girl though, and amazingly hot, so Tim was definitely interested. In my role as wingman and mischief-maker, I decided to have a little fun and mentioned to the girl that Tim was a porn star. To her credit, she didn’t believe me at first, but Tim and I kept insisting. We created this whole backstory about how he was in town shooting this film and how he had his own line of sex toys with his name on them. Slowly but surely, she started to believe us, and, as she did, she became suddenly VERY interested in Tim.

I couldn’t believe it. Within an hour, she had invited him back to her place. Tim walked out of the bar with the hot brunette on his arm and a smile five miles wide. But in the end, the joke would be on him.

Now, Tim is my friend and a great guy, but — how shall it put this? — he is not exactly a porn star. Amongst our frat Brothers, he had the nickname “Mighty Mouse” (until it was changed to “Speedy Gonzales” our senior year), and, yes, you’ve guessed right about what both of those nicknames refer to. Anyhow, enough said.

Apparently, once Tim and his lady friend got back to her place, they started to get naked and get busy, and (I don’t know the details of exactly how this happened, but…) this dumb brunette very quickly wised up to the fact that the man she was about to have sex with was not, in fact, a porn star. Feeling duped, the brunette became hysterical and demanded that Tim leave her apartment at once. In his hasty departure, he left behind his sweater and his underwear. He had to walk 30 blocks in the freezing cold to get to where we were staying that night. True story.

(After an unexpectedly slow month, I’ve gotten a few good stories in my inbox this week. Here’s a tale I like a lot, and it should serve as a reminder that one needn’t have personally experienced an HNTGL moment to share it with the world. Please do keep those stories coming in and keep spreading the word about my mission [Thanks to all the new folks who have blogrolled me in the last few months! You rule!]. Remember, I can only post stories when I’m getting them in, so click HERE to share yours today. Okay, enough guilt-tripping, you know I love you all. On with the show! — SF)

Submitted by the friend-of-a-friend, Age 29, NYC

There are always these urban legend stories that “happened to a friend-of-a-friend”, but couldn’t possibly *really* be true. This is one of those stories.

Basically, she meets a guy. They go on a date. Maybe a few. Things are going well. They wind up at her place. Making out. He goes for her bra… and…

HE TRIES TO TAKE HER BRA OFF OVER HER HEAD.

To hear her tell it, this was not one of those front-clasp deals that we understand guys might get a little confused by. Just standard issue; it apparently just never occurred to him that the darn things fasten in the back. Or at all, really.

Boys, don’t try this at home. She mercifully refrained from laughter and unhooked it herself, but not before he nearly threw her neck out.

Needless to say, the night ended early, and she never went out with him again.

Submitted by Brian, Age 24, Boston, MA

I’m in college. Diane is the hottest girl I’ve ever dated, and things couldn’t be going better. Tonight is gonna be the night we finally have sex, I just know it! We meet for dinner and drinks. She’s looking fine and so am I. My best friend Becca helped me pick out these uber cool linen pants and I’m wearing my silk boxers for the occasion. Pretty soon, though, I realize the problem with this outfit. I’ve got a hard on that just won’t quit, and there is absolutely NO WAY to hide it. The more I try to talk myself down, the harder I get. We leave dinner and walk across campus. I’m dancing like Michael Jackson to try not to let Diane or anyone else notice the all too obvious bulge in my loose thin slacks.

We hit up a party. There will be many people I know there. This is going to be a disaster. As soon as we enter the door, I manage to slip into a bathroom and take a moment to myself. I’ve tried talking my little friend down, I’ve tried a few drinks. Utterly out of options, I decide to take matters into my own hands and I discreetly whack off into the toilet. There. Problem solved. I wait till my friend is grounded and I reemerge into the party.

But suddenly Diane doesn’t want to stay at the party anymore. She wants to head back to her room. I oblige. Can you see where this is going yet? That’s right. We get undressed, ready to have sex, and I . . . can’t. My drinking has turned me into a one shot wonder, and that one shot was fired back in the bathroom by myself. The ensuing battle with the gods of refractory vengeance was ugly at best. What could I say to Diane? Every excuse sounded lame and was. To make matters worse, this ended up being our last date. I never got a chance to prove to Diane that I actually wasn’t the world’s worst lover. I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life.

Submitted by Sarah, Age 31, Philadelphia, PA

I met this marine biologist (yes, a marine biologist!) on match.com, and he seemed like a real catch: cute, funny, sincere. We exchanged a few emails, then he left town for a month on some research expedition before we could actually meet. While he was away, he emailed me, and I emailed him back. Soon, it got to the point where we were writing each other pretty much every day. It was fun and exciting to have this romantic pen-pal, and we both looked forward to finally meeting once he returned to town.

On date night, he arrived at my apartment ten minutes early. There was a little surprise on my part when I first opened the door. He wasn’t bad-looking exactly, but his internet picture was definitely a best-case scenario. So…no instant fireworks, but that was okay. I felt I had a good guy here, and I needed to give him the benefit of the doubt.

But first, I had to finish getting ready. I excused myself and returned to the bathroom. When I opened the door five minutes later, I found him leaning against the sofa waiting for me — BUCK NAKED.

“I just couldn’t wait any longer,” he said.

I suppose I should have been scared or freaked, but for whatever reason, I just cracked up. He looked ridiculous standing there with his average schlub body, naked as a jaybird. It struck me as really silly, and I could not stop laughing. He got VERY red in the face, colossally embarrassed. For some reason, I said, “no, it’s not you” — but of course it totally was.

He put on his clothes with great speed, and apologized profusely. Neither of us quite knew what to do at that point, so we ended up going to dinner as originally planned. The rest of the date wasn’t technically awful, but his bold disrobing cast a pall of embarrassment over the whole affair, and I was very happy when we skipped desert and said an early goodnight.

(The Dangers of Alcohol: Part 3 — where our protagonist once again learns: Screw the sauce or be screwed by the sauce. — SF)

Submitted by TooCool, Age 36, Traverse City, MI

I was in my mid-20s, and thought I was just the coolest bitch ever. Just graduated a prestigious college. Big fish, small pond. I met a guy at work with an ego greater than/equal to mine, and I tried like hell to bag him.

We had had a one-nighter, which, fueled by way too much alcohol, was forgettable. Er, forgotten. I wanted another chance.

Long story short — I had a party at my parents’ house on the lake, about 40 miles from the city. It was a pain in the ass to get him to come all the way out there for the bash, but he did finally show up, with another cool friend.

By the time he arrived, I was so far gone on booze and hash that I made a total ass of myself. I allowed him to degrade my assembled local friends — and I joined in. I was unhinged.

Fast forward an hour or so, I puked all over the place. He and his friend made a hasty retreat while I vomited. I returned to the party to find everyone gone.

How cool is that?

P.S. Ironic ending — I am now happily married to Cool Guy’s childhood best friend — who has let me know in no uncertain terms that NO ONE who actually knows Cool Guy thinks he’s cool. He’s actually a whiny, insecure heroin addict (And the probable reason I don’t remember the one-nighter is because his dick is so small that it was like throwing a hotdog down a hallway).

(Part 2 in our educational series about the dangers of alcohol. Part 3 to come in a few days. Listen and learn, children! — SF)

Submitted by Ron, Age 29, Austin, TX

It’s New Year’s Eve, 2006, and I’ve got a night planned with a very attractive co-worker of mine. She and I have been out enough for me to know I like her, and for her to discover I’m not quite her type… but it’s New Year’s, dammit! Nobody likes to be alone and neither of us had been intimate in ages. It had been two years for her, and almost five years for me. This was going to be a good night and I’ll be damned if I was going to let anything get in the way.

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