It was supposed to be a quiet weekend.
Actually, to a degree, it was. It is very close to the end of the month. The pay-month, obviously. I get paid on the 21st for some bizarre reason. Anyhow, with V Festival; Manchester and London this was going to be an expensive enough weekend without it being one of the 5-weekend months. We all know how it happens - there are 31 days in a month but only 28 days in a fourt-week; so sometimes you get paid on a Friday and have to go through five weekends before getting paid on a Monday.
Well, as a result; and as it was not the last weekend of the calendar month, I had no plans. First time in a very long while! Again, because I weirdly get paid on the 21st, I have money before most of my other friends who get paid on the 25th or the 28th, so have to wait until the last weekend of the month before we go out.
Anyhow, yes - no plans. The tentative tasklist involved doing some gardening on the Saturday (including chopping down a tree which went very well) and shopping on the Sunday for the DIY bits and bobs I have needed to get lots of little annoying jobs ticked off the list. And to that extent I achieved all I set out to. I actually did so marvellously arriving at my brother's perfectly in time, despite a rush around town on the Sunday with a Sunday bus service.
Except that I was trying to have a weekend with no sexual experiences. Knowing that I was not going out on either Friday or Saturday night, and that the only chance was Sunday night when, after the family meal, I was to pop to the pub for a quickie, this should have been more than possible. A quick pint, that is.
Let me take you back a few weeks to put it all in context...
A few weeks ago someone got in contact from a group of lads I used to associate with. I didn't fall out with anyone from the group, but all we really did was drink in the pub on a Monday night. I decided a year or so ago that I wanted:
So, a few weeks ago one of that group messaged me on Facebook. He'd always been quite flirty with me and his message basically said something like:
Actually, to a degree, it was. It is very close to the end of the month. The pay-month, obviously. I get paid on the 21st for some bizarre reason. Anyhow, with V Festival; Manchester and London this was going to be an expensive enough weekend without it being one of the 5-weekend months. We all know how it happens - there are 31 days in a month but only 28 days in a fourt-week; so sometimes you get paid on a Friday and have to go through five weekends before getting paid on a Monday.
Well, as a result; and as it was not the last weekend of the calendar month, I had no plans. First time in a very long while! Again, because I weirdly get paid on the 21st, I have money before most of my other friends who get paid on the 25th or the 28th, so have to wait until the last weekend of the month before we go out.
Anyhow, yes - no plans. The tentative tasklist involved doing some gardening on the Saturday (including chopping down a tree which went very well) and shopping on the Sunday for the DIY bits and bobs I have needed to get lots of little annoying jobs ticked off the list. And to that extent I achieved all I set out to. I actually did so marvellously arriving at my brother's perfectly in time, despite a rush around town on the Sunday with a Sunday bus service.
Except that I was trying to have a weekend with no sexual experiences. Knowing that I was not going out on either Friday or Saturday night, and that the only chance was Sunday night when, after the family meal, I was to pop to the pub for a quickie, this should have been more than possible. A quick pint, that is.
Let me take you back a few weeks to put it all in context...
A few weeks ago someone got in contact from a group of lads I used to associate with. I didn't fall out with anyone from the group, but all we really did was drink in the pub on a Monday night. I decided a year or so ago that I wanted:
- to cut down the amount I drank;
- that would also help save money;
- that would also give me an extra evening per week to do 'stuff': gardening or DIY or such like.
So, a few weeks ago one of that group messaged me on Facebook. He'd always been quite flirty with me and his message basically said something like:
Hey not seen you in a while. Hope you're well. I'm single now so if you ever fancy me noshing on your willy do let me know.
For those of you not of the English persuasion, noshing is the same as gobbling. Any how, We entered into a brief conversation at the time, and a few other times that I've been on Facebook. Then I saw that it was his birthday this weekend so I sent him a message to say happy birthday, and he basically replied:
If you want to give me a good birthday present, let me nosh on your willy.
Well, it was only polite to oblige, wasn't it? It was his birthday after all.
No comments:
Post a Comment