ee!
second! OK, fourth.

I once accidentally turned up to work looking like a woman. (I had a presentation, see, and had to wear a dress and makeup to make some kind of highly relevant point.) This somehow convinced the guy I'd been nagging for sex pretty much ever since I started working there (Can we have sex yet? Can we have sex yet? Can we have sex yet?) to cave in and have sex with me. W00T!

EDIT:

I agree with mmm...beer
No girls are going to have anything interesting to say

Glad to hear you're so fucking attractive, fuckface. *hits the ignore button*

I work like a broke dick dog to get sex, or at least I used to when I was still capable of achieving something roughly analogous to erection.* The guy I posted about above took three months to wear down, from walking into work and having my hypothalamus shout in my ear "YOU WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH THAT MAN. YES YOU DO. NOW.", to discovering that he was "on a break" with his girlfriend back in The Country, to nagging and nagging and nagging and nagging as if I wanted to be taken to Mount Splashmore instead of... [actually that is a good analogy, I think I'll leave it], to accidentally turning up to work looking pwitty and femining instead of like a Motorhead groupie, to having him mysteriously cave in one pissed-up Wednesday night (! we worked in an extremely reputable processing centre indeedy) and agree to accompany me back to my place. Then, of course, we were both so shitfaced that not much really happened.

I still have a mental image of him walking naked across my room to get his clothes in the morning which I will take to my grave. When the funeral directors (by which I mean "the coroner's assistants who dispose of itinerant corpses") wonder why my sozzled carcass is smiling so radiantly it will be because of that.

*Before I was menopausal and 30kg overweight yet strangely malnourished.
(Emily Bruce-Dickinson http://jovialfellow.blogspot.com/, Fri 13 Apr 2007, 9:10, Reply)