Archive for the 'On Being Good' Category
(Our 50th story AND our first one from The Netherlands! Enjoy. — SF)
Submitted by Oblivious, 25, The Netherlands
So I was like 18 or 19, in high school, and green as they come when it came to sex. I was also shy of ladies, *very* shy. We are talking “blush from hell” shy when I had to face a girl I liked.
Then there was this girl, who was half arabian and half asian. I wasn’t madly in love with her or anything, but I’d file no complaint were she to invite me over to her place, if you catch my drift. I always had a thing for foreign girls, and she did fit the profile alright. Okay, perhaps I had a bit of a thing for her, I’ll admit.
In school we had these designated study hours, and we wrote letters sometimes to pass the boring hours. One day I let the innocent and shy thing work for me, and wrote her a question “innocently” asking whether the women’s body really did react in a certain way to air conditioning on a hot day (like I didn’t know). To my suprise I got a semi-embarrassed smile delivered with the note that came back to me, which indeed contained an honest answer. Perhaps I should have taken that as a sign that she was interrested, but innocent as I was, I didn’t have a clue. Or perhaps she was just embarrassed by the sudden nature of the question. I never was good at picking up signals from girls.
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Submitted by LilB, Age 29, Philly
The Setting: A small New England campus named after a Supreme Court justice. Let’s just call it Scalia College. Good ol’ Scalia had an active and influential population of religious fundamentalists of a certain persuasion (won’t name names but when you think of Hollywood and international banking, they’re high on the list). Scalia was also not known for its attractive students. Women who in the rest of the world would rate at best a 5 (in low light and when you’re intoxicated) would suddenly be bumped up to a 7 or 8 at Scalia. This is what we called the “Scalia hot” phenomenon.
Anyway, there was one woman who was of this fundamentalist persuasion, who was “Scalia hot.” She had a huge rack and was well known on campus for being one of these religious types. I had been trying to get into her pants for months, but her fundamentalist beliefs and mode of clothing wouldn’t allow for it. Not that I didn’t try and she didn’t lead me on. She was very flirtatious and suggestive, but the line was drawn at some mild cuddling on the couch watching TV, or at best, in her room in a suite with the door wide open.
Until one night. Many students at Scalia in one particular set of dorms - the same quad where the lady of this story lived - had figured out how to pirate cable. In the mid to late 90s, pirated college cable equaled pirated college cable porn. Jackpot!
One night, I’m in her room. She shuts the door. We flip on the TV, start surfing through the channels … and she stops. On the porn channel. I think this is my chance. Can you tell how this story ends?) She leans over and kisses me. What do I do?
I keep watching the porn.
That’s why I’m posting this story to a site called How Not to Get Laid, and not Penthouse Forum.
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(The story below comes from Dr. Blogstein who was kind enough to have me on his awesome radio show last night (CLICK to hear show). I challenged the doctor to send in a story he told about himself, a pair of 19-year-olds, and a dizzying moral dilemma. He came through, and it’s a story to which many of us self-professed “good guys” can relate. I now extend my challenge to everyone else. If you’ve been enjoying what you read on this site, the time has come to follow the good doctor’s example and share a story of your own! It won’t hurt, and I guarantee you’ll feel better afterwards. — SF)
Submitted by Dr. Blogstein, Age 31, NYC
I was on a cruise with five of my friends to celebrate my 27th birthday. It just so happened that my actual birthday night coincided with karaoke night on the ship. Exciting!
When dinner was over, we ran down to the ballroom where karaoke was to be held but alas all the slots were filled. I begged the girl to let me sing my rendition of Frank Sinatra’s New York, New York because it was my birthday. How could she say “no” to that? Sure enough, ten minutes later, she announces to the room that its my turn and also jokes that its my 21st birthday.
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I was spending my summer on Cape Cod, and I’d managed to start dating this local girl (we’ll call her Kate) who was on the verge of being out of my league. Young, beautiful, taut, frequently in shorts, you get the picture. And she was a good girl too, not the sort who was gonna sleep with any old guy who blew into town. And I liked that. But my point is: I knew I had to pay my dues if I wanted things to get as physical as you better believe I wanted them to get. I had to be the good boyfriend.
She had a little brother. Cute kid, maybe eight years old. I’d met him once and we’d hit it off. “I love that my brother has so much fun with you,” she’d said. Later that day, Kate’s bra came off for the first time. My simian male brain made the following connection: nice to Kate’s brother = hot love with Kate. This would be my undoing.
Couple weeks later. Big party at her parents house. Real WASPy New Englandy fancy backyard affair. I wore my best slacks, my best shirt, and my only blazer. Kate was fancy too. And deadly gorgeous. I was in lust, but had to control it until later. I had a feeling it might be my lucky night.
But first, I’d lay the groundwork. Play with the little brother. And so I did. I made him laugh. I used funny voices. Stupid voices. Probably-not-so-attractive-to-the-opposite-sex voices. I was silly. Too silly. I played pretend. WAY too well. I really had a blast with this little kid. Too much of a blast. Throughout the afternoon, I could see Kate slowly losing her interest in me, but I used all the wrong tactics to get it back. I doubled my efforts. I played tag with this kid. Football. Badminton. I got sweaty. And not just sweaty. I got arm-pit stained funky smelling unkempt hobo-at-the-tea-party sweaty. Really not a turn-on. And by the time I realized exactly how royally I’d screwed myself, it was too late to do anything about it.
Would I see her that night? No, on second thought, she really ought to help her parents clean up. And the next day? Well, maybe she had enough time for a movie, but not much else. You get the idea. A slow fadeout. To this day, I’m still kicking myself…
Submitted by D. White, Age 33, Philadelphia, PA
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Back near the dawn of time, I spent summer and christmas breaks working alongside a smart, beautiful, smart-ass girl. The banter was legendary. Never had I compatibility with someone that devastatingly intelligent, stunning, and, well, dirty. However, due to a high-school-ish lack of self-confidence and cluelessness, I assumed our linguistic sexual interplay was merely in the land of “let’s just be friends”ishness.
Eventually, our friendship progressed into letter-writing and getting together with groups of friends now and then. I think our flirtiness via snail mail and parties got to the point where I somehow indicated my real feelings, for she responded with a “I’d love to go out with you, but [her best friend] has a crush on you and I wouldn’t want to hurt her.” So after much soap opera garbage and letting down the friend easily, I got that first date. And it was spectacular; the specifics were better than I’d imagined (a story for another website?). This was an open-minded girl! But I stopped short of home plate that evening, I don’t know why: I’d never had sex, lack of self-confidence, first date, stupid, etc. And we went on for a couple of weeks, and here’s where the train falls off the track.
Rather than trying to reignite the passion and fun and fearlessness of that first night, I became a supreme fluffhead schmuck. A far-too-expensive necklace for Christmas. Teddy bears. Little gifts all the time “just because.” Discussions at her house, alone, without progressing to making out. Too much obsessive attention WAY too soon. Trying to show her the relationship wasn’t just about sex.
And then, well, it wasn’t. She let me down easy, but she never really explained why she broke it off, to my lifelong frustration. We wrote letters for a while, even with some of the flirty stuff thrown in, halfheartedly, but that was it.
And in twenty years, I’ve never met another woman with that same combination of smarts, beauty, humor, and pure sexuality. How’s that for schmuck?
Submitted by Snake, Age 35, Boston
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While I was in college, I was approached by a close friend of mine. She was a very cute girl with a lot of pent-up sexual energy, but you could tell that she hadn’t had much experience. Hell, she broadcast her lack of experience and wore it as a badge of pride, so I was surprised when she approached me.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. You?! Phil?! At close to 300 pounds, she may have been attracted to my gravity, but, no — that was the best part about it. She wasn’t coming to talk about me. She was interested in my girlfriend.
“I had a dream about Nadine last night.”
“Really,” I choked, “what kind of dream?”
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(Another story that breaks the guy-gets-rejected-by-girl mold. Do enjoy. - SF)
I knew he was a player. We belonged to the same Jewish group on campus, and he would arrive at each monthly potluck with a new flavor on his arm. She was always petite. Always pretty. Secretly, I compared myself to these girls and wondered how I stacked up.
He’d given me a ride home once, and we stopped for a coffee that lasted two and a half hours. Conversation was effortless. He made me feel like there was no one else in the world but me. A crush was born. But although we both agreed we should “do this again sometime,” we somehow never did. I forgot about my crush and didn’t see him again for three months.
Then we hooked up. It was April. A mutual friend was celebrating her birthday at a dance club, and I was 10 minutes away from jetting, when he walks in. We danced. Closely. And then … we were kissing.
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(Welcome! Since this is to be a website where I ask complete strangers to spill their guts about things that happened to them in the past, I suppose it’s only fair that I use this inaugural post to share an anecdote of my own. Please enjoy this story and all those that follow! with love, Stewart)
I was a virgin at the time. Most of the stories begin this way. Fresh out of college, Benjamin Braddock had nothing on me. I was horny, repressed, and overeager.
The terrible thing about being a twenty-something virgin – aside from all the obvious things – is that I was never able to approach a romantic relationship with the same sort of carefree nature my peers could. For me, every date, every girlfriend, every interaction with the opposite sex became loaded. Will she be the one? Will this be my chance to lose the scarlet V emblazoned on my chest?
Not long after graduation, I spent four months traveling around the country with a group of actors. Very quickly, I managed to couple up with the girl I considered to be the “hot one” of the bunch. I’d like to say this made me the alpha male of the group, but in truth, I think it just made me lucky. She was smart and funny and said she used to model, which I got a real kick out of. She may have modeled for the Toys ‘R’ Us catalog when she was five for all I knew. Didn’t matter. My young ego was sufficiently stoked.
She was cheating on her boyfriend with me, which I was okay with because it didn’t seem like that relationship was going to last. Furthermore, the illicit nature of our road-trip romance made it all the more exciting for both of us. We were sneaking around motels across the southern part of the country, making out and getting all hot and heavy. Surely, I thought, it was just a matter of time. Read more »
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(24 votes, average: 3.46 out of 5)