ACTING ON IMPULSE
In another life I could’ve been sweet and nice and, dare I say it, dashing. Still be an ugly cunt though…

I blame it on the Impulse commercials circa mid 80’s. The ones where some tart walks through a shopping mall wearing a trouser suit with the kind of shoulder pads you’d normally see on an American football field. When suddenly some geezer gets a whiff of her pits and rushes off to buy her… flowers. Yep, fucking flowers. I’ve only just recently started the whole Interflora thing again after I discovered buying my girlfriend flowers is an absolute dead cert guarantee of getting to cum on her face later. And if I happen to buy her chocolates too, well, let’s just say I’d be wiping the shit off my cock on the curtains for a month.

But back when I was an insufferable little pre-teen prick, I actually believed everything I saw on TV was true. As far as I was concerned the A Team and Airwolf were documentaries and France was, in point of fact, populated in the olden musketeer days by a load of dogs who could walk on their hind legs and talk and chose to keep particularly annoying mice as their comedy sidekicks.

So, after watching several of these Impulse ads I decided the best way to get Amy Something-or-Other to be my bird was to get her some flowers. And give them to her. In school. In my form room. Just before the register was being taken. Now, Amy was dead posh. She even paid for her own school lunches, that’s how fucking posh she was. So when I did a little detour that morning on my walk to school to the graveyard of St Thomas and All Saints, I made sure I only chose the freshest, most loveliest flowers from the tops of the graves. After I’d harvested a shedload, I rammed them in my satchel and went to school. Nervous. Excited. I was already imagining how Amy would melt when I gave her the foliage. She would be mine! Oh, yes – she would be mine!

A few minutes later, in class, everyone’s settling down. I get up from my desk at the rear of the class, whip out the assorted carnations, orchids, and manky roses, and I make my way down the isle towards Amy and her group of mates (she sat near the front, she was a bit of a swot). The class went deadly quiet. Everyone was staring as if I’d just shat in my hands and was walking round cupping it for everyone to get a nice, deep lungful. Amy clocked me, her face contorted. She knew I fancied her. And now I think she saw what was coming. Jesus… The look of complete and utter hatred and contempt on her face… She looked right through me, turned sharply and started a conversation with her mates. Completely blanking me.

So, there I was – flowers in hand, being stared at by the assembled members of 4B. I had to think fast. I kept on walking. Just kept on going. I gave the flowers to my form tutor who just sat there dumbly, wondering what the fuck was going on. “For you,” I said. “For all the great work… errr…. thanks….” Then I made the awkward, long, painful trudge back to my seat.

Thinking back though I don’t really know who was more embarrassed. Me or my form tutor, Mr Butler (great big bush moustache on that man and biceps like well-oiled tree trunks, if I recall correctly)…
( SpankyHanky, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 11:56, 3 replies)

I cringed reading that lol
*remembers every embarrasing thing I've said to a girl*

*thinks "fuck it, they are not real people are women" and gets on with life*

:D
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 12:30, closed)

buying my girlfriend flowers is an absolute dead cert guarantee of getting to cum on her face later
oh I agree absolutely. I once got into a feedback loop where I'd buy her flowers as a thank you. I hoped that my cash would run out before hay fever killed me off.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 14:56, closed)