Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Hunter's Campfire Random ex-GF funnies from the past

kamo gari;
Well my friend this has been an interesting and sometimes "educational" thread that you've started here.

Before going into my story, which is more random than funny really, I'd like to send a tip of the hat to Doc Rocket who proved again the good stuff he's made of. Good luck on your move too Doc.

Anyway, I've posted here that I was involved in a pretty close scrape when I was 15 that landed me in the hospital for a couple months.

Now during that time I was going out with a young lady and we actually ended up dating for about a year and a bit before parting ways.

Not long after we married, my wife and I moved two provinces and 1200 miles west. Like most of the folks I went to school with, I'd lost track of this girl completely. I'd heard once that this high school girl friend had become a nurse and recalled thinking at that time that couldn't be as she was rather squeamish around cuts and scrapes.

Fast forward about 25 years and I'd managed to run my left hand through a table saw doing a bit of a number on 3 the fingers. On the bright side, the thumb is still in factory fresh condition!

The wonderful doctor who stitched the fingers back on at the ER, a South African chap of Chinese extraction - cool accent he had - said that the hospital in a city 4 hours north of here could likely fit me in faster than the larger center an hour and a half north.

So it came to be that my good wife and I washed up in the waiting room of the surgery ward at 7:00am the next morning.

I hadn't slept all that hot, and when I looked at one of the nurses it didn't click in right away that I should know her. The second time I looked at her, I said to my wife, "that looks like _____ might look like, but I haven't seen her for 2� decades"

The words had no sooner left my lips when she walked over, looked at my bandaged hand and said,"It looks like you're still taking good care of yourself Dwayne."

As I stammered some sort of reply/greeting she then asked, "So how's married life?"

I was sufficiently recovered enough to reply, "It's great thanks."

She turned to me and said, "I wasn't talking to you actually Dwayne!" - which gave my wife a much needed laugh.

After that we all had a very pleasant but brief visit catching up on our respective families. She ended up helping get us a quiet place to rest while I waited for surgery, which was much appreciated as I didn't get in until 5:00 that afternoon.

So that's my random ex-girlfriend story tonight Leighton. As always, I hope you and yours have a great week.

Dwayne

Well into the process of becoming whipped, maybe? And I don't mean anything having to do with cream.

Some good stories, DocRockets is exceptionally so.

Keep downing the juice, it'll come to you, I promise!

What to do wit' it? Hell, you Billhillies is slow on the uptake. Upon finishing my virgin shag--which took place in a storage locker in a apt. complex basement on some stranger's couch amidst some boxes and X-mas ornaments-- I was overtaken with a romantic urge to do...something for my queen. Without her asking, I took off a sneaker (yep they were still on), ripped off a sock and offered it to her to use, as I was fresh out of clean towels.

I still remember the look on her face. Well, as best I could see, what with me seeing triple in what light there was, coming from the bare bulb down the hall... Even after sharing a 1/2 gallon of V in a plastic jug--with Kool-Aid powder mix added for color--I didn't forget my manners. I was going to be her knight, after all! Chivarly ain't dead, boys!

#1 - she must have been a real keeper if she cleaned up with your sweaty gym sock.

#2- WTF were you doing with your sneakers still on? What is this, Victoria era London? Did you leave your powdered wig on as well?

Brian.

There's a story I REALLY want to tell here, as it involves no less than three hilarious moments, but I'm in the same boat as Bristoe. Even if I used nothing but medical terms, it'd still be too dirty.

Brian.

(In a Girly Voice): Oh Leighton,..you're my HERO...!

TFF....

This is a good thread...

I was seeing a little princess that was more serious than I was. When my cousins wedding came around I didn't tell her about it, because you don't take sand to the beach. I came home a few days later and decided to swing by her place, to say the least, she was a little mad. During the discussion she made the comment that she should cut me off, I replyed "just how the hell you gonna do that, you don't even know where I am getting it". She started throwing glasses and plates at me from the sink, that was the last time I saw her.

Someone, please introduce this cat to whiskey. The non-lookers can be TIGERS in the sack. I mean, beggin' for mercy and getting none kind of tigers. Or so I read somewhere...

You speak the truth my friend.

Brian.

Rob, how long will we have to wait?

I was in college visiting a former girlfriend in her dorm room in another city 100 miles away. Had to get up and come back early to do a bird survey the next day. Being a consciencious sort I was up and out on my motorcycle before dawn.

I was accompanied on the bird survey by girl B, who was wanting to learn the birds, I rode direct to the site, she met me there at sunrise.

I have often said that if more guys knew what often happens when you take a woman bird watching, they'd be out buying bird guides. See, you're off in the woods, can't talk much or in low tones, and you're showing them something beautiful. A bottle of wine and a blanket just in case usually pack pretty compact in a daypack.

This time I had neither, not having any ulterior motives, I mean, hey I was in college, it ain't like I never met women.

But... a couple of hours back in the woods and she was pretty and one thing led to another...

She said to me... "Its been a long time for me, has it been a long time for you too?"

...of course I replied.. "Why, yes it has"... or words to that effect.

What I really wanted to say was... "I dunno, what time is it?"

Birdwatcher

She said to me... "Its been a long time for me, has it been a long time for you too?"

The loose ones always use that line.

1: I never said she *accepted* it. But then she was a Townie, and none too bright. Drop-dead gorgeous, and not brain-damaged, but not a terribly cerebral lass.

2: We weren't at the Four Seasons, dude. She was on the run and it was a wintry cold, snowy Boston night. We had nowhere to go, and the filthy storage shed in the almost black darkness of a basement of a Boston apartment complex, one where her Russian friend Kira lived, seemed like the lesser of two evils, as lying on the greasy concrete floor was the other option. I had to jimmy the lock to get into the unit to use the couch. In that stage of my life, I was hyper-cognizant of the potential need to scram in a hurry. Like NOW in a hurry. Consider trying to make good an escape in the snow, with the lass, both of us as drunk as a pair of bloody monkeys, with bare feet. The kicks stayed ON.

How about another wing man/blind date yarn?

I do not really have any EX-gf stories, because I never met a woman who could qualify for GF until I met my wife. But there are a few girls out there whom I dated once upon a time.

About thirty years ago Buddy #1 asked me to go with him, as his GF and her cousin had planned a Birthday outing and they really needed a fourth.

Turned out the cousin was about five foot four, blonde, an azz like Jennifer Lopez, and a chest like Raquel Welch. The four of us had a great day, went out to dinner, ended up at a drive in theater watching Chris Reeves play Superman. Me and this hot little blonde in the back seat of my 71 Toyota Celica.

We took the girls home, and I went on home to the farm. For about three weeks, about three times a week, the phone would ring and it was this luscious little blond.

We eventually made plans to go out again. The second date concluded with me dropping her off at her apartment about 3:00 AM. As I headed for the door to go home; She mentioned that I was "probably way too tired to safely drive fifty miles back home"

I agreed that she was probably right and proceeded to crash on the couch; whereupon she grabbed me by the hand and said "Nobody sleeps on the couch at my house."

She led me around the corner into her bedroom, and as I plopped back onto the bed, she proclaimed; "Nobody sleeps in my bed with their clothes on."

That was Saturday morning, and I was not heard from again until Wednesday. I rested up all day at my buddy's house on Wednesday and made it back to work on Thursday.

We met up again the next weekend, but it had become apparent that the chick, while built like a sack of kittens, and twice as much fun, was far too promiscuous to consider her as a serious relationship.

A couple more weeks pass without seeing any more of this chick and I figure she has moved on and I am looking toward the horizon as well. Friday afternoon comes along. I get off of work and drive over to Buddy #2's house. He just happens to be the older brother of Buddy #1.

I see their Dad at the house. "Hey Where is Buddy #2" I ask.

His Dad replies, "Heck if I know. He came flying in here after work. Put the camper on his pickup and took off.....for the hills I guess."

I look out toward the barn and see both of our dirt bikes through the open door. "Heck, he can't go to the hills with out his motor cycle."

So I back my Toyota pickup toward the barn and load up the two Hondas. Then I head a couple hours up the road toward our favorite camping spot.

Sure enough, Buddy #2's pickup and camper is parked there. But no one is around. As it is now about Midnight, I lay down across the seat of the Toyota and grab a little shut eye.

Next thing I know, the sun is peaking through the tops of the timber and I see signs of life in the camper parked about fifty yards away. So I drop the tailgate of the Toyota, unload both bikes and fire them up.

Just about then I see this same luscious little blonde come flying out of the door of the camper and head off into the woods at a run.

It takes her about fifteen minutes to work up the nerve to show her face again. Both of us guys were sitting on our bikes side by side with our helmets on. She came out of the trees and stared at my bud for a while, then stared at me for a while.

He asked her, "Were going riding, you coming with us or hanging out in camp?"

She stared at him for a while more, then she stared at me again for a while. I swear, she thought we ought to be going to fist city.

I guess she was not listening a few weeks earlier when I told her "A woman worth fighting over, will not put her self in a position to be fought over."

Finally she disgustedly agreed to go along for the ride, and we actually had a pretty good day.

But I often laugh at how Karma can work out sometimes. My Bud told me that Blonde Chick accused us guys of planning to meet up at the camp just to embarrass her.

Danger Will Robinson! I never have gone on a blind date. After seeing what some of my boys got for a prize, I nixed that rite of passage right off the to-do list. Blind date indeed. Shyt, most times they got set up with a female that made them wish they *were* blind. But then see above for my post RE: whiskey and tigers.

I hope she wasn't a Gypsy. That sounds like an evil eye moment if there ever was one!

I'd have tossed a bucket of water on her. Witches melt, y'know!

Nowhere near as bad as some of the above, but funny to me anyways: I was 17 at the time, had just started dating this girl who was 16. She came from a nice family, very conservative folks. Was next to the youngest of 5 daughters and her father was a drill sargeant. One night I dropped her off by her house and we were standing on the back porch underneath the light around 11 or 12 o'clock. Everything was going good until I noticed my t-shirt was on inside out. Don't think I've ever got the hell outta Dodge so fast! Luckily nobody inside noticed, or I wouldn't be able to type this today...

I'm too much of a gentleman to tell a story on myself, but I'm a crappy enough friend to tell one on a pard.

Said pard fogged up the windows at the drive-in with some babe. The next morning he noticed a note tucked under the windshield wiper of his car. With God as my witness the note started out:

"After last night at the drive-in, I know you love me..."

Reminds one of an old joke:

The girl�s father approaches the boy�s father and said, "I'm a little mad at your son." The boy�s father asks why, and the reply was, "His name was written out in pee in the snow off of my porch." The boy�s father says "We all do that. What's the big deal?" To which the girls father replies, "Ya, I know, but this time it was written in my daughters handwriting."