Deadspin hookup fail

Content
  • The Kentucky Derby Was Decided By Some Video Replay Bullshit
  • The CDC Delivers The Final Verdict on Whether or Not to Wash Your Chicken

I once had a friend named Mark not his real name who was trying to have sex with a girl while he was blind drunk. He did not end up succeeding. Here is the short story of why. As they were hooking up in his dorm room, Mark and this girl mutually agreed to move on to intercourse. It’s always a thrilling moment when you propose the idea of intercourse to a girl in the middle of a hookup and she agrees. You want to move on to sex?

The Kentucky Derby Was Decided By Some Video Replay Bullshit

Welcome to Great Moments in Drunken Hookup Failure, where we showcase five heartwarming true stories of drunken love gone horribly awry. Off we go. We have lots of sad stories here every week, but I’m afraid Peter’s is the saddest of all:. I married my high school sweetheart and that was my first mistake. We tied the knot at 20 after our sophomore year in college. Yes, I had forgone all casual high school and college sex to marry this woman.

Six years later I found myself overweight, depressed, broke, and freshly separated. She left me for a professor in her master’s program. At that point, I was pretty desperate, because I had only been with one woman my entire life and I was terrified it would remain that way. I transformed from a once respectable young professional into a sad creature with a bit of a Vicodin problem whose sole power was to make single women uncomfortable at work.

I actually developed a friendship with a coworker who shook off my advances and saw me as a decent guy who had fallen on hard times. While she was completely unwilling to fuck me, she was perfectly okay with setting me up on a date with her recently divorced, single-mother-of-two stepsister. I met my date at a local restaurant that I can only describe as a slight step up from Western Sizzlin’.

I discovered my coworker’s step sister was perfectly Midwestern; she was plain, very kind, and exceedingly boring. Our conversation progressed from awkward to amicable as we both went through cocktails, and at some point close to dessert, it became apparent that we were two people drinking ourselves to the point where we could stand fucking each other. I invited her back to my shitty apartment and she consented. I hadn’t been in my apartment for several days, because the air conditioning was broken and the maintenance crew was taking their sweet time to fix it.

I was staying with my parents in the meantime and I certainly wasn’t going to bed my date nary ten feet away from where my mother slept. As soon as I unlocked the door to my apartment, she pushed me to the couch while slobbering on my neck. She really enjoyed sucking on my nipple, which honestly made me feel like I was being molested. But about ten minutes into it, she started blowing me and between booze, painkillers, and adequate blowjob, I felt incredibly content. I had the standard marriage where the blowjob was a rare event, and between that and the months of sexual frustration, my toes began to curl and I realized I was about to disappoint my date.

And just I was having the realization, I began to hear an unsettling, but all too familiar sound coming from outside my door. It was the sound of someone shuffling through their keys. I twitched to warn my date, but the door swung open and I found myself starring at a short, portly Hispanic man in overalls. Days earlier, I had told this man that I didn’t care what time of day he came by to fix my air conditioning, because I wasn’t staying there.

I guess he liked to work evenings. I felt any number of overwhelming sensations in the following seconds, but the one that persevered was the feeling of wetness on my chin. I quickly gathered that my date had stopped blowing me, and somewhere in the excitement, I came on my face. The maintenance man stood there for what felt like an eternity. My date looked up at me and we shared a really unfortunate moment.

It was probably the only time we had connected on a personal level all evening. She threw her clothes and left. I thought about trying to convince her to stay, but I remembered I just had cum dangling from my chin, and decided it was best to let the evening end. I called in sick the next two weeks and found another job. I went on living with the paranoia or certainty? I didn’t renew my lease the next year. My husband was a second year law student. It was the week before final exams and he had been spending nearly every second of the day and night holed up in the library studying—-a grueling regimen that required large quantities of caffeine and Adderall.

One night, he came home cracked out and stressed out. In an effort to help him unwind, I ordered him to disrobe and lie on the bed. I climbed on top and begin kissing his chest, slowly working my way down to the promised land. A few sucks in, I noticed that things didn’t smell quite fresh down there. I opened my eyes and quickly saw the source, a little dingleberry that had nestled in his taint hair. I kid you not, this thing looked like a miniature chocolate egg perfectly placed in the bed of a pubic Easter basket.

I immediately started laughing and fell off the bed into a hysterical ball. In between cackles I managed to blurt out, “P-p-p-p-poo. You have poop. Afterwards he sheepishly apologized and explained that the caffeine and Adderall had a laxative effect as any user of “academic enhancing drugs” can attest to and that he had ruined the library with a messy dump earlier that day.

I still tease him about it. My friend introduced me to Stephanie at the bar, and we had some pleasant conversation. However, she quickly left to talk to other friends, and I didn’t talk to her again for much of the night. She seemed to know everyone at the bar, and was constantly flirting with guys, dancing, taking pictures, etc. I didn’t mind, because I was happy to get out and have a couple of drinks, and I wasn’t really expecting to hook up in any event.

By closing time, it was apparent that – as you might expect of a girl celebrating her 28th birthday – Stephanie was much too drunk to drive herself home. I figured she would get a ride from her cousin, or her gay best friend, or one of the myriad men she danced with at the bar. Much to my surprise, however, she asked me to drive her home. I agreed, but even at this point, I wasn’t expecting a hook up – we had barely spoken at all.

As we sat in her parking lot, I went in for a friendly hug goodbye. She had other ideas, however, and she went in for the kiss. We made out in the car for a few minutes, then quickly moved the party inside her apartment. After some foreplay on her couch, she asked me if I wanted to “have fun. I told her I didn’t have any condoms, because, again, when I left my apartment for the night I was not expecting to hook up with anyone.

Thankfully, however, she had condoms in her bathroom, and we proceeded to “have fun” on her couch. While I wouldn’t consider myself grotesquely fat, I have certainly never been described as an Adonis. I think a good adjective for my body type is “doughy. It was just the confidence boost I needed after being dumped. Back to the story: Stephanie and I are on her couch, Cowgirl-style. Then, in the middle of the action and completely out of the blue, she reaches down, grabs my love handles with both hands, and says “PFOOOSH.

I’ve spent a considerable amount of time trying to think of a way to describe the sound she made. The best I’ve been able to come up with is this: That was the sound Stephanie made as she grabbed my paunch. I was completely taken aback and laid there stunned for a few seconds. I tried to get back in the saddle but quickly realized that I had no desire whatsoever to continue having sex that night.

I left her apartment and went home a dejected man. Needless to say, the experience was not the confidence booster I was hoping for. At least she didn’t give you a raspberry. I moved from the east coast out to San Francisco a few years after college, a year or so after that, one of my best female friends from school moved out west as well to Napa. Now for the better part of my college career, I had a huge crush on this girl though we had always been strictly “just friends”.

Throughout college she always had a serious boyfriend and frankly, in comparison to most of my college hook-ups, she was considerably out of my league. So after I heard she’s moving into the area and invite her to my birthday party. At this point, she had just moved to California and didn’t know a soul. I, on the other hand, had met quite a few solid friends and had pretty damn awesome birthday party in the works. As soon as she arrives at the party it was pretty much on, she’s all over me pretty much from the get-go.

I’m introducing her to all sorts of fun people, we’re taking shots, telling old stories, yadda yadda. Next thing you know we’re outside the bar making-out full force and decide to cab it back to the hotel where she was staying in downtown. We get back to the hotel and start making out on the bed. We’re both getting super into it. I get her shirt off but she initially she won’t budge on the pants, this goes on for what had to have been at least 45 minutes when finally she’s super worked up and says those golden words, “Get a condom”.

My head is spinning, I’ve dreamed about this precise moment for the past 6 years and it’s finally gonna happen. I get the condom on while she takes off her pants and is laying in front of my totally nude. It’s about to go down…. Then all the sudden… I start losing erection. She’s grabbing it trying to guide it in but it’s refusing. We literally tried everything — attempted to wedge it using my pointer fingers as a splint, get it going “myself” while distracting her by making out, she tried to revive it her hands and mouth.

We’re both getting very frustrated at this point. It went from half limp, to mostly limp, to totally limp in a matter of a minute. I attempted to get it going the next morning but she had zero interest.

Illustration for article titled Introducing Great Moments In Drunken Hookup Failure . I once had a friend named Mark (not his real name) who was. Once upon a time at this fair site, we ran a series of posts entitled Drunken Hookup Failure, chronicling sordid tales of young lust gone horribly.

Welcome to Great Moments in Drunken Hookup Failure, where we showcase three heartwarming true stories of drunken love gone horribly awry. Off we go. As always, try and keep it brief, and do your best to rein in your douchier side when recalling these tales to us. About five years ago, I was seeing a guy who was into group sex. He was also a drunk.

The Drunken Hookup Failure Contest is underway.

Welcome to Great Moments in Drunken Hookup Failure, where we showcase three heartwarming true stories of drunken love gone horribly awry. Off we go. Time to throw up the Batsignal and call for new DHF entries.

Once upon a time at this fair site, we ran a series of posts entitled Drunken Hookup Failure , chronicling sordid tales of young lust gone horribly awry. Today, we’ve decided to bring DHF back for a special prom-themed edition. Here now are some of our readers’ very worst prom failures. It’s , and my senior prom was coming up, and I had just recently broken up with my girlfriend of three years, and I was struggling to find a date. My mother makes a suggestion of her friend’s daughter Maria, who was just getting out of rehab for her love of prescription medication and mixing it with alcohol.

Welcome to Great Moments in Drunken Hookup Failure, where we showcase four heartwarming true stories of drunken love …. Welcome to Great Moments in Drunken Hookup Failure, where we showcase five heartwarming true stories of drunken love …. Welcome to Great Moments In Drunken Hookup Failure, where we chronicle four heartwarming stories of drunken love gone …. Welcome to Great Moments in Drunken Hookup Failure, where we showcase a few heartwarming true stories of drunken love …. Welcome to Great Moments in Drunken Hookup Failure, where we showcase three heartwarming true stories of drunken love …. Deadspin The A. Cockblocked By Old Yeller. Drew Magary.

Welcome to Great Moments in Drunken Hookup Failure, where we showcase five heartwarming true stories of drunken love gone horribly awry. Off we go.

Welcome to Great Moments in Drunken Hookup Failure, where we showcase four heartwarming true stories of drunken love gone horribly awry. Off we go.

Welcome to Great Moments in Drunken Hookup Failure, where we showcase five heartwarming true stories of drunken love gone horribly awry. Off we go. We have lots of sad stories here every week, but I’m afraid Peter’s is the saddest of all:. I married my high school sweetheart and that was my first mistake. We tied the knot at 20 after our sophomore year in college. Yes, I had forgone all casual high school and college sex to marry this woman. Six years later I found myself overweight, depressed, broke, and freshly separated. She left me for a professor in her master’s program. At that point, I was pretty desperate, because I had only been with one woman my entire life and I was terrified it would remain that way. I transformed from a once respectable young professional into a sad creature with a bit of a Vicodin problem whose sole power was to make single women uncomfortable at work.

Welcome to Great Moments in Drunken Hookup Failure, where we showcase three heartwarming true stories of drunken love gone horribly awry. Off we go. For these purposes we will name her Michelle. Michelle was one of those girls with a set time limit that had to go by before she would let me get some of her. We park my truck on the street about 3 blocks down and the minute we walk in the house we start making out like the two high school kids we were. We head to the nearest couch available and start messing around.

Фонтейн набрал код на специальной углубленной панели, после чего прикоснулся к небольшой стеклянной пластинке. Сигнальная лампочка вспыхнула, и массивная стена с грохотом отъехала влево. В АНБ было только одно помещение, еще более засекреченное, чем шифровалка, и Сьюзан поняла, что сейчас она окажется в святая святых агентства. ГЛАВА 109 Командный центр главного банка данных АНБ более всего напоминал Центр управления полетами НАСА в миниатюре. Десяток компьютерных терминалов располагались напротив видеоэкрана, занимавшего всю дальнюю стену площадью девять на двенадцать метров.

На экране стремительно сменяли друг друга цифры и диаграммы, как будто кто-то скользил рукой по клавишам управления. Несколько операторов очумело перебегали от одного терминала к другому, волоча за собой распечатки и отдавая какие-то распоряжения.

Халохот пролетел пять полных витков спирали и замер. До Апельсинового сада оставалось всего двенадцать ступенек. ГЛАВА 101 Дэвид Беккер никогда не держал в руках оружия. Сейчас ему пришлось это сделать. Скрюченное тело Халохота темнело на тускло освещенной лестнице Гиральды. Беккер прижал дуло к виску убийцы и осторожно наклонился.

Нет! – закашлявшись, исторгнул он из груди. Но звук так и не сорвался с его губ. Беккер понимал, что, как только дверь за Меган закроется, она исчезнет навсегда. Он снова попробовал ее позвать, но язык отказывался ему подчиняться. Девушка почти уже добралась до двери. Беккер поднялся на ноги, пытаясь выровнять дыхание.

Попробовал добрести до двери.

Я позвоню и все объясню. Мне в самом деле пора идти, они связи, обещаю. – Дэвид! – крикнула.  – Что… Но было уже поздно. Дэвид положил трубку. Она долго лежала без сна, ожидая его звонка.

FML – Top 5 Worst Hookup Fails