I don't have any awkward stories about the opposite sex for several reasons. I'm a massive, collosal coward and I suspect the world would implode from statistical impossibility if i ever did get a girlfriend. You should all be grateful to me for your continued existence.
However, for reasons i do not understand gay men are inexplicably attracted to me. So here i share some harrowing stories.
I was 14 at a house of a couple close friends. There was this tall, thin bloke who all the girls were gagging for and he seemed to be flirting with them too. I was very surprised when, later on in the evening he pushed me up against a wall, slammed his tongue down my throat and proceeded to place his hands where I was rather no hands were placed. Being very short and very thin at the time with no muscle structure at all I was in no position to to anything about it and could only struggle impotently against his mighty, homosexual form. Later that night he hooked up with one my female friends and they became an item. I, unwisely told her i thought he was bad news and that she probably shouldnt be seeing him, I didnt tell her about the above incident, and she did'nt speak to me for months. Until he cheated on her. Repeatedly.
Another female friends boyfriend would insist on greeting me with a kiss. Mysteriously he wouldnt greet anyone else like this.
And to end this tri-force of unfortunate homosexual attraction. At a recent costume party a certain gay gentleman started hitting on me. Luckily I spotted it early and explained to him that, although flattered, I wasn't gay and thus unlikely to respond to his flirtations. Little did i know that he was not to be deterred by such a tiny thing as his object of desire being of a diferent sexual orientation. Later on in the night he approached me yet again and told me "If you werent gay... Oh the things I would do to you"
To which I replied "Its a good thing i'm straight then" It was my mistake to believe him deterred. He appeared several more times to describe what he would like to do to me in varying degrees of detail until I could take no more and left, swiftly fleeing into the night. I now avoid him like the plague as i am told he keeps a picture he drew of me on his bedside table.
I am not a lucky man when it comes to matters of the heart.