Party Pooper | I Shat Myself

If this was Star Wars, this would be very much the Rogue One of my blog entries. The main series of course features, predominantly, my excruciatingly awful love life. I mean it's bad. Even my Grandad, who has been in a care home for about a month, already has a new Girlfriend. I've been in Peterborough for over a year and the closest thing I have to a partner is watching Woody in Toy Story. But this however is not a blog about my love life, this takes place well before the lack of tinder matches I get made me question whether or not I will die alone.

My last Blog spawned tons of debate, ridicule and even a fake fancy dress superhero costume and movie posters. The nickname Rosstitute has well and truly stuck. I have decided (for the time being) to keep my head down and even behaved myself on a weekend away to Majorca. This has meant that I have raided my memory bank for a story worth telling. 

This was done by Jonny Crouch, and it's possibly my favourite thing ever.

I will be honest with you, this is not a recent tale. This story takes place when I was 5 years old. Yes, I'm sorry. I know you all wanted it to be about a week ago starring a fully fledged and increasingly chubbier Ross on a night out, chatting up some young thing like the old dog he is, only for him to ruin his chances by crapping his pants... But it's not. What I can promise you however, is a story that scarred me for life and helped shaped me to be the socially awkward nerd that I am today.

My first year of Primary school had it's ups and downs. A particular high was when I was chosen to play Santa Claus in the Christmas Play, I had a sack of presents and I had to hand them out to different children as the whole class sang a song about me. This made me feel extremely big headed, however turns out I just literally have a big head.

A particular low was the time we were playing tag in the playground, it was a drizzly day and whilst chasing my friend Lewis I fell over and cut my knee. I was crying and looking for someone to help. Nobody helped. I even remember this one kid Sam just running near to me, staring and then running off. Sam was a dick.

Perhaps my brain is warped but I remember being extremely popular in my first year at Primary School, I think this was due to the fact I was the oldest pupil in the class by 5 days. It sort of made me the leader of the class. When you are a kid the world works like that, I remember my friend Liam saying to me "Because you are the oldest, you'll die first" which made complete logical sense to a five year old and was the first experience of an existential crisis I ever faced.

I just remember Primary School being the best time, I had amazing friends, I was pretty bright and I was also the winner of Comedy Idol, a playground run event (albeit by my best mate Lewis) that looked for the funniest kid in the playground. Secondary school had nothing on this, in fact for the first 3 years I absolutely hated it, but I think that is mainly due to the fact someone set up a bebo group named "We Hate Ross", but that's a story for another day perhaps.

Towards the end of Reception (the first year of primary school) one of the girls in my class Emily was having her five year old birthday party. She was handing out the invites in class and I was one of the first boys she gave her invite to, I think she fancied me. Anyway, I was proper excited for this party, I proudly went home with the invite in hand. This party was going to be amazing, it was being held at the Hippodrome, an indoor soft play area sort of thing. Slides, ball pits, rope climbs, big kids throwing stuff at the little kids. It was the sort of place that you wish you could go everyday as a kid because nowhere is more fun to pretend being a Power Ranger than somewhere like that.

I handed the invite to my Mum and she signed yes, it went up on the fridge that evening and the very next day it was handed back to Emily who looked excited that I was coming. She definitely fancied me. The whole class was excited on the lead up to the party, it was all anyone could think about! That two weeks went so slowly, it felt like two years.

My Mum chose what I wore, she still does most of the time to be honest. I was looking amazingly handsome. The shoes, the little shirt, the smart trousers with a belt and to top it off I was wearing my favourite Thomas the Tank Engine pants for good measure. I looked like and felt like a complete and utter boss! Here's a picture of me to show you how much of a boss I was when I was younger!

Now you know why Emily fancied me.

The party started at 1pm and I told my Mum that we couldn't get there at that time as I wanted to make an entrance. So... I stroll in at 1.05pm, of course I bloody do. I walk right up to Emily and give her a birthday card and a present that my Mum bought for her, she probably swoons a little and then I head off to find Lewis and begin to start what I very quickly concluded to be the best day of my life.

Anyway, after about an hour or two in the play area it was time for the food... The boring bit of the party where nobody really wants to eat but you're forced to as some of the skinnier kids might break bones if they don't get some food. I think I had a jam sandwich, I like Jam sandwiches as they are sort of like a desert wrapped into your lunch. I don't really eat them anymore though. 

Anyway, a jam sandwich, some sausage rolls, cheese on a stick, and some cake was the diet of the time. It never took off like Atkins.

Then it was back to the chaos. We were pretending that we were Action Man that day as I had been round Lewis' house the week before and we played the Action Man game on PlayStation and it had made a lasting impression of just over a week on us. As I was crawling under the spiders web obstacle I felt something in my body that five year old Ross never anticipated to be a problem.
I told Lewis that I would be back I just had to go for a "poo poo", there was no shame back then.

I left the area, dodging a ball that Sam threw at me on the way out. Fuck you Sam. I calmly walked past Emily's mum sitting in the food area looking bored to shit. I'll be honest, I'm not completely set on having children. Part of me thinks it would be an amazing life changing experience to have a human being that I created look up at me and for me to influence it's life like nothing I have ever influenced before. However, another part of me thinks... Fuck that, I'm going to have to one day watch this little shit who's draining all my money and time going around having the time of it's life whilst I'm sat near some half eaten jam sandwiches when I should be sitting at home watching Game of Thrones with a Pizza and writing, what by then, must be my 5000th blog. (Dogs are better).

I get into the cubicle and by this point I am pretty desperate to go, I untuck my shirt and kick off my shoes. I am very thankful for my Mum's input into my outfit, as I say, I looked like a boss. However I realised right there as a five year old that I had never worn a belt before and... I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO UNDO A BELT.

They say during grief you go through five different stages.
"But Ross, Nobody is going to die from you shitting yourself!"
Yeah? Well tell that to my favourite Thomas the Tank Engine pants.

Stage 1: Denial
I'm not going to poo poo myself my five year old brain told itself, If I just keep on trying, it's got to come loose. I began to panic as I clawed away at this strange device strapped to my waist, I began to feel claustrophobic as my little fingers tried to work out the mechanics that I believed not even a 7 year old could work out.

Stage 2: Anger
NO! I WILL NOT BE DEFEATED BY THIS. I CAN'T POO POO MYSELF AT EMILY'S PARTY! WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME MUM? WHY WOULD YOU PUT A BELT ON ME? TODAY OF ALL DAYS! THERE IS NO WAY THAT IS HAPPENING! I'M GOING TO SAVE YOU THOMAS! I'M GOING TO DO THIS FOR ALL THE TANK ENGINES!

Stage 3: Bargaining
I began to calm down, there must be another way I can get this off, I remember looking around for other options, perhaps I could cut it off? No, don't be silly, there are no scissors in a kids bathroom at a play area. I could ask Emily's Mum! But no, I'm way too shy and the embarrassment would kill me.

-Side Note. I should have just asked Emily's Mum.

Stage 4: Depression
My life is over, I'll never get invited to any parties again. I have hit the height of my popularity in life at age five. When the other kids find out about this nobody will want to be my friend. They will just call me Poo Poo boy and I'll sit in the corner at playtime and my best friend will be my teacher Mrs. Stansfield.

Stage 5: Acceptance
Well... I'm going to shit myself, might as well let it happen and just try to go unnoticed and back into the party.

There was something peaceful about that last stage, I still remember the moment I just let go and let it happen. Thomas would have been screaming but nobody would have heard, he was caked in shit.

We had about an hour of the party left at this point so I decided to do the only thing acceptable a young boy can do after he's shat his pants. I decided to completely forget about it and go back to the party. This is not an exaggeration, I genuinely forgot all about it. I carried on playing, I chased Lewis around, I threw some balls back at Sam. Take that Sam. I really can't be sure if people could smell it, or even had a clue, but I completely blocked it out of my memory.

Of course there was one thing that reminded me, the dreaded rolling pipe slide. If you can't remember what a rolling pipe slide is, or just didn't get invited to parties like me. Ha, you loser! This is what a rolling pipe slide looks like.

This is just a stock image, although these kids should be honoured they are in such a high prestige article such as this. Jammy Bastards.

Safe to say, by about the third roller, I was completely reminded of what had happened about 20 minutes earlier. I soon forgot again though and carried on until I was picked up by my family.

I still remember being in the back of my parents car, it was an old navy Renault Laguna, my Dad was driving, Mum in the passenger seat and my sister Tanisha was sat next to me. We had driven nearly all the way home before I again remembered my problem. I just casually said "Mum, I couldn't undo my belt at the party and I poo pooed myself". My sister said "ewwwww" and my Mum looked concerned, pretty sure I remember my Dad chuckling away.

We got back home, Mum undid the belt and unfortunately the war zone did include a casualty.

So there you have it, the time I shat myself. Nobody ever did find out about this however I have never forgotten about it, It was the first real time in my life that I remember feeling completely useless, I've had lots of times since then. It's a lesson that I will always have with me.

Thank's again for reading, I've been a bit slow with these lately but I really hope you still enjoy reading them. I don't think Emily fancies me anymore.

Here's some other Rosstitute posters by Charlotte Laura and Robyn.

And if you are brand new. Here's the links to my other blogs:
Remember the time I was taken to Court?
Remember the time I went on an unsuccessful date?
Remember the time I was on dating apps?
Remember the time I went to a Strip Club?
Remember the time I went to Europe's biggest Brothel?

Thanks!

€35 | Europe's Largest Brothel

I'm stood in Europe's Largest Brothel, drunk, alone and scared-

But before we get to that...

After my last blog I thought I had maxed out. I came to the realisation that I had peaked. Nothing in my life could be as funny and awkward to top that one night in the Strip Club. I couldn't give you guys what you want. I was done for. I'd have to resort to writing different blog topics like Ross' top 10 favourite chicken recipes... or, why Donald Trump's Mexico Wall is a brilliant name for a new Mexican fast food empire.

Well I was wrong. I've outdone myself.

Another Stunning Photoshop Job by the highly talented

Rob Gray

After years of being stingy and worried about money I have finally found myself in a situation where I typically (I'm probably going to spend a lot on Burritos from Donald Trump's Mexican Wall) earn more than I spend. This puts me in a position that when my friend says to me "Hey, for my 25th I want to go for a long weekend away to the capital of Germany. You want to come?" I can answer "Yes".


Of course we didn't go to Berlin, we went to Cologne. Turns out Adam isn't very good at geography. I ponder sometimes, that, if we had gone to Berlin, would things have been different? Probably not.


It's not like we were going on holiday, I suppose it was more of a weekend away to give our livers a battering and see if we had any luck with women who couldn't understand us sober as well as drunk. Two mad nights with friends that when put on paper make even the Inbetweeners look like a watershed version of reality.

I should have known that it wasn't going to end well from the offset. I was picked up by one of the group at 3.30am, something that didn't really phase me as I am used to early mornings. However, what did phase me was the moment he decided to do a handbrake turn round a mini roundabout in Hampton Hargate. I would have been impressed if we weren't in a Nissan Micra but somehow it felt less Tokyo Drift, more straight up Paul Walker.


We get to the airport, through security and its straight onward to spoons, obviously. I'm not sure what it is about British people and Wetherspoons, but we fucking love it don't we? It's cheap food, cheap booze and it's just, quite frankly, the go to place when you've hit your mid-life crisis and crave drinking Stella at 11am on a Wednesday. The airport is a bit different though, you're on holiday, the rules go out the window! What's that? you want a pint and a burger at 5.45am? you bloody well have one sunshine! You're about to fly inside a metal bird that could well kill you, have a Jägerbomb for good measure.


We have a pint or two before we realise we are late, the gate has opened and soon people are going to be boarding their metal coffin. We quickly rush out of the pub and jump on the train to the terminal. We make a plan that as soon as the doors open we will leg it up to the gate and if anyone's left behind then they should train cardio for the next trip, it's survival of the fittest from here on out, and I'm Bear Grylls. The doors open and we rush out, we fly up two sets of escalators to be greeted by nothing but shops. We sort of scratch our heads before a steward tells us that we shouldn't have got off on this stop, we came too early, so to speak. Panic ensues and we bundle ourselves into a lift to get back down to the train. It turns out that we had all run past this sign.

What a fucking nightmare.

Anyway, you'll be pleased to know that we did make the flight and boarded without any problems. I don't like the safety procedure at the beginning of a flight, this isn't Lost, if our plane crashes we aren't going to survive on a magical island where polar bears roam and everybody is an 8/10 or above. I mean, if we crash, then the very best thing that can happen to me is my dental records will be accidentally mixed up with the pretty German girls sat next to me. The most action I've had in a while.


We land in Cologne and rush out quickly to grab a taxi to our accommodation. The driver gets out and puts our luggage in the boot. Adam, Damon and Nat jump in the back whilst I walk round to the left to jump in the passenger seat... of course as soon as I got in and was greeted by a steering wheel to the face, I realised I was well and truly in Germany. The taxi man did not look impressed.


We turn up at the place we were staying and meet with the landlady to get keys and chuck our stuff into our rooms. We then head out into the vast, bustling, unknown city of Cologne. A buzz was flowing through the group as we entered the first pub, we tried beer after beer after beer before deciding to settle our stomachs with some local cuisine.


Four Big Macs and some hours later...


We start well and truly wetting our whistles, pre-drinks are a go. We of course are aware that we are in somebody's actual flat and are respectful of her possessions. We leave pretty gazebo'd and head to the club. In the club I was at the usual confident (foolish) drunk level where I could go up to girls I found pretty and not go completely weak at the knees, a condition I have had since watching chick flicks as a young teenager. What I liked most about German girls is that I couldn't understand them when they weren't interested so the familiar brutal sting of rejection was a lot less painful. Although, my friend Scott has since informed me that they were maybe just rating me a nine out of ten (something that sounds completely plausible).


As the night progressed me and another member of the group were separated from the other two in a heart-breaking turn of events which would make Jack and Rose from Titanic feel lucky that they got to hold on to each other in the icy North Atlantic Ocean. In true drunk fashion we decided not to bother looking for them but instead replace them with German counterparts. This was a mistake. We started chatting to these two lads, who we believed to be fine replacements for our missing members. They were okay, we chatted about football, girls and the never-ending existential crisis that I face every morning when I wake up.

I remember talking to one of the bastards and telling him about my blog (as I do, with everyone, because it's all I have) and him laughing over the Strip Club post. He informs me that there is a brilliant strip club in Cologne, its 12 storeys high, with everything you can possibly want. My mind begins to drift "hmmm perhaps this could be interesting, I mean, people loved the last blog, I might get even funnier stories that I can add". I ask him to give me the name and the address and say we will head there later. He tells me he can't come because his girlfriend will kill him so I grab my friend and we head off.


We jump in a taxi and show the driver the name and address. He looks at us with that knowing grin. He was probably thinking "Here we go, here's the lads". We head off...


There must be a scientific reason why alcohol makes you need to go to the toilet more often. It's true, I could quite easily enrol in a university course, spend £27,000 on 3 years education, go to lectures, write essays and get a degree. All to figure out exactly why my bladder puts me in a hostage situation of, "empty me in a urinal now or I'll make you wet yourself". However, in Layman's terms... It's just a bit of a prick. 


So needless to say, when the taxi arrived at the strip club, I was busting. I look at my friend and sluggishly say to him "Look, as soon as we get in there I need to find a toilet". No girls with daddy issues until this bladder is drained.


We scuttle in and I begin my long search for the toilet, I browse the bottom floor for any door that could lead me into the porcelain paradise, however I am left with nothing except disappointment and increasing stomach cramp. I head upstairs to the second floor where things looked a bit more interesting, A bar, a long corridor filled with girls on stools, can't seem to find the to-


A long corridor filled with girls on stools?!


This is when it clicked, this is when I realised that these German guys had pulled the greatest practical joke on me since my ex-girlfriend told me she loved me. I was in a brothel. Not just a brothel, but I later found out it is Europe's Largest Brothel. Desperate to get out of there I turned to find my friend, he is nowhere to be found. They've bloody got him I conclude, he's been taken, my friend has been taken! I don't have the particular set of skills needed to find him. I begin to panic. I'm stood in Europe's Largest Brothel, drunk, alone and scared-

*BUZZ*

My phone goes off. I look at the screen relived to see his name. It reads "WE WERE IN A BROTHEL ARGHHHHH. I've head back to hotel, where are you?". Thank god, I think to myself, Taken really went down hill after the first movie, I don't want to carry on Neeson's decaying legacy. I reply with, "Finding a toilet and I'll be back too, see you in a bit".


I scour the second floor, each step increasingly more painful. There is not a toilet in sight. This is when I made the worst decision of my life, I talked to a hooker...


Now, this isn't the first time a hooker has tried to gain my business, I often have to walk past one or two in Peterborough on my way home after a night out... they say "Want any business darling?" and I say "Not today m'lady, however I hope business is well for you and you have a profitable year" tip my hat and move on.


In Germany it went... a little differently.


"Hello, I don't suppose you have a toilet in your room that I can quickly use"
"..."
"A toilet? I just really need to use the toilet?"
"..."
"Okay then..."
I go to walk away and she grabs my arm and says "You pay"
"For the toilet?
She nods...


Now I need to reinforce how desperate I was for the toilet at this point. It felt like someone had stabbed me in the stomach and was twisting the knife around whilst also kicking me repeatedly in the balls. I HAD to go to the toilet. I HAD to agree to give her some money. (yes I paid a hooker, we can all have a good laugh at that).


I whip my wallet out and open it up, I think to myself "hmmm I mean, 2 Euros should be more than enough". She lunged... Now this all happened so fast, of course you are reading this so I advise you to take a deep breath and read the next bit as quickly as possible so you can understand my shock and horror.


Ross opens wallet.
Hookers hand dives in.
35 Euros in notes leaves Ross' wallet.
Hooker jumps off stool.
Hooker grabs poor defenceless idiotic Ross' arm.
Hooker drags Ross into room.
Hooker points towards entrance to her toilet.
Ross goes in.


As my bladder drained I had two emotions:

1. I feel absolutely amazing, this is what Vampires must feel like when they drain someone's blood, I feel younger, I feel fitter, I ache a whole lot less.


2. OH MY GOD, A HOOKER JUST STOLE 35 EUROS OFF OF ME.


Now thanks to my ghetto upbringing and my general knowledge of the "Streetz". I knew much better than to leave the toilet and argue with a prostitute to give me my money back. Although girls don't, I actually quite like my face and I would rather enjoy keeping it intact. I accept the fact that I have lost that money and I am never getting it back. My plan is to leave the toilet, thank the young woman, who, much like me, should really question her life choices and leave the establishment.


Why do things never work out the way I plan? I open the door to be greeted by her standing there, she grabs me by my shirt and throws me on the bed. Although this sounds quite funny, it was actually pretty horrifying and scary. I had successful avoided wetting my pants, now I was under immense pressure not to shit myself.


I tell her "No".
She replies "But you pay".
Again I say "I just needed the toilet".
She says "No, you pay, you get something".
The aggression from her voice immediately made me realise that she was having a slow night.
I once again say "No, look I don't want anything, I want to leave".
Again, she forcefully states "You pay! You get something!".

I knew that by "something", it probably wasn't going to be the deluxe box-set of extended Lord of the Rings and Hobbit movies. This prostitute couldn't give me anything I really wanted.

"What you want?".
"I'll take a cuddle" I squeal, like a frightened pig.


She doesn't even question it, she walks towards me and hugs me. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, it was probably the single most surreal moment of my life. It was like in Harry Potter when Voldemort hugs Draco.

She retracts from the hug and says to me "You go now".
I fucking dashed.


On my way back to the hotel I contemplated, how did this happen? I honestly thought that I would be collecting hilarious stories of me in a strip club, not being semi-mugged by a prostitute and then her hugging me after it! I began to worry, is this too much? Will people believe me? I've just entered a brothel and left with 35 euros less than I went in with. People are going to ask questions!
Of course, once I got back to the hotel, I was not believed. They called me Rosstitute for the rest of the weekend.


Thanks so much for reading, please give this a like and a share or just tell somebody about it if you really want to. I am always completely humbled by the response they get and I am so fortunate that you guys enjoy reading them as much as I enjoy writing them. Maybe one day I will collate them all and release them as an E-book for all you posh bastards who read your Kindle on a train... Who Knows?

First time reader? Enjoy that? Check out my previous bad decisions

Remember the time my Ex's Dad took me to court?

Remember the time I went on an unsuccessful date?

Remember the time I was on Dating Apps?

Remember the time I went to a Strip Club?

Oh, by the way, it wasn't all bad, the woman sent Adam a lovely message about how we were respectful of her possessions...

So Respectful.

Roly Poly | I Went To A Strip Club

"Why do you do it? Don't you see that you're making yourself seem pathetic in these blogs, nobody will ever take you seriously if you continue to write about your failed attempts with women, your miserable outlook on life and your passive-aggressive writing is going to be your ultimate downfall" to which I replied "Ross, don't ever doubt yourself".

What a great story I have for you today.. it's a bit cheeky, bit after hours, little bit explicit, very much another one of those classic "Ross you old dog" stories that everyone is so fond of (e.g. My Mum).

You already know, it's in the title. I went to a Strip Club.

This amazing Photo done by none other than Rob Gray! The guy is a Photoshop genius!

Did I start my night thinking that I would be staring lovingly into a strippers massive... eyes? of course not. It was just another night out, specifically it was a delayed 23rd birthday night out for me in Peterborough with some work colleagues. The classic pre-drinks games of Ring of Fire and Never Have I Ever (Which is basically me not drinking most of the time until someone asks "Never have I ever cried myself to sleep"). I was on the Southern Comfort and Lemonades, a sophisticated drink which really oozes class when poured into a plastic cup. By the time we got out to the town I was pretty drunk, and by pretty I mean I can't really remember a lot, most of my night was traced back by a series of snapchats from one of my friends who decided to document me trying to chat up the back of a girls head because she wouldn't turn round and give me the time of day.

As for the night out it was pretty standard, our group thinned as the night went on, some to go home due to being too drunk and some to go drink tea and watch the Jungle Book. Until there was just me and a friend left.

I'm not sure what it is about my relationship with alcohol, it can do one of two things to me.

1. Overly Confident Ross: Imagine a tortoise in a shell, all his life he was raised to use this shell as protection from being attacked by female tortoises'. Imagine that one day that same tortoise was minding his own business and happened upon some whiskey smelling liquid in his garden. Imagine the tortoise drank some. What does the tortoise learn? He learns that he's mother fucking Blastoise from Pokemon and he has nothing to fear! He swaggers over to the lady tortoises (of course he bloody does) and even if they reject him (which they clearly will, he's no Charizard), its like *ping* his shell is indestructible, the rejections just bounce off. He is confident, he is funny, he just has no cares in the world. Until of course the morning after when he realises he is just a tortoise.

2. Existential Crisis Ross: I'm in a black and white film. I'm sat at a bar on a Wednesday night, alone. I stare at my drink in front of me, the liquid sits peacefully exactly half way in the glass. I ponder, is my glass half full or is it half empty? Ludovico Einaudi composes the scene beautifully with a chilling piano score. I slowly pick up the glass and realise that it represents my life, it's not full... there is something missing and every time I drink it is getting less and less full. I down the drink. It is empty. Just as I am about to break the Barman comes over and fills my glass "No! I'm only 23" I think to myself "It's okay that I haven't figured everything out yet. Life is full of ups and downs and that's okay." Colour begins to fill the screen, everything is warming up. The guy next to me goes to grab some peanuts from the bar and knocks my drink over my favourite shirt... The colour drains... I cry.

On this night, I happened to be in Overly Confident Ross mode which is why when my work colleague said "Hey, Lets go to the strip club" I replied "Great! More women for me to scare away!".

So we rock up to this strip club in Peterborough and there's a big bouncer guy on the door, he goes "Rules are, no touching, no phones and no abusive behaviour towards the dancers". I'm not worried, I'm respectful, my phones got like 10% battery and I doubt I'm going to play FIFA with one of them so no abusive behaviour from me. £10 Entry, about the same it costs to go see a film a the cinema. No worries. 

We walk in and its pretty dire as you expect, there's not really many people in there just a few seedy old men and us, there's about 7 or 8 girls walking around in their underwear and one on the stage dancing on a pole.

I know for a fact that if I was sober I would have probably exploded with discomfort, but alcohols a beautiful thing. We sit down on a table and there are a couple chairs around us. All of a sudden I hear "Hey Cutie" (she started as she meant to go on... with a lie) and a stripper sits on my lap. I'm like, alright, this is weird, there's a free chair right next to me but sure just sit on my lap, I guess you wearing just your underwear gives you some sort of confidence sword that strikes down peoples personal space. So this stripper has pissed me off already, its not that I didn't like what was happening, its just more that I didn't understand it, I like to ease myself into new situations, which is why I order the same thing from domino's every single time.. Calories and guilt. 

So this stripper's just sat on my lap and just sort of sighs and goes, "I could do with a drink". A clear hint to me that I should go and buy her a drink.. But I play hard ball, you have to get up pretty early to catch me out with those tricks I thought to myself, I know her game, So I just say to her "Me too, I'll have a Beer" My work colleague looks mortified at what I just said and sort of intervenes and says he will get the drinks. So he wonders off to the bar and its just me and this woman in an empty corner of a room.

So anyway, perhaps it was the mix of alcohol and the fact I had never been to a strip club before I gave in.. But almost definitely 100% peer pressure..  I accepted to have a dance. She leads me into this room and I sit down on the sofa, I've still got my beer with me, at this point I'm clenching it tight hoping she doesn't try and have a swig, shes already said she wanted one. So she looks me dead in the eye and takes off her bra, I'm hating this, I'm way too awkward for things like this, so I'm debating in my head whether or not I should look or just try and seem unimpressed. Then I remember I paid for this so I should really look, my eyes are going all over the place, I'm surprised my eyes didn't roll back and I warged into the stripper herself like bran from Game of Thrones. Anyway, so she continues, shes doing her dance, and all of a sudden she takes her knickers off.. Now this may be me being a naive fool, but I never knew strippers got fully nude, I mean, my experience of strip clubs up to this point was through movies and GTA V, and they always had pants on. So I am completely shocked... The dance finishes and I storm out, a little horrified by what I have just learnt..

I go up to my work colleague about to reveal this excruciatingly important information to him but hes being chatted up by two strippers, they are everywhere, There is no escape. I calmly and quietly sit down and he goes to me "I've worked out a sweet deal where we get to have a dance together" So I get dragged up and taken into another room, there are two sofas in the room one on one side and the other completely opposite, he sits on one and I sit on the other and the dances begin. I'm not entirely sure what the point of having a dance together was because we couldn't exactly partake in interesting conversations and banter when we were so far apart, so I sort of give him a wave whilst both strippers are looking away as an attempt to further bond and let him know that I am thinking of him. He sort of shakes his head in embarrassment but I know that he really wanted to wave back.

Anyway, we are coming towards the end of this dance and I've not really been paying attention when all of a sudden my stripper sort of grinds with her butt about half way down my leg. What happens next took pretty much the whole room by surprise. A noise emerges from down below, the stripper looks at me and is like "What the fuck was that?!". I look behind her to see my friends face in complete disbelief and his naked lady looking at me like I had just voted for Donald Trump in the presidential elections.

I play it cool as a cucumber, I just reach down into my pocket and pull out my Darth Vader key ring with light saber noise effects and light up eyes. I press the button on it again and shine the light around the room displaying the amazing features of something that I am proud to have my keys attached to. I look them all dead in the eye and say "It's cool right? I got it as a Secret Santa present last year when I worked in Game".

I have attached a small video element to this blog where you too, can be amazed at this piece of engineering beauty.

About 20 minutes and a couple drinks later, I have decided to ignore my friends recent lecture on how I should behave in a strip club and decide to regress back to my usual self deprecating time bomb of awkwardness. I begin thinking its a good idea to wave at the stripper who is currently hung half way down a pole upside down. She sort of does a bit of an impressive flip round the right way and waves back at me.

She finishes her routine and comes straight over, she looks at me funny and then goes "Oh, I thought I knew you", I tell her that I just have one of those faces, and she asks me why I waved? "I just like waving".

She sits down with us and looks a bit tired, but shes a hard worker and starts to try and graft me to have another dance. I'm pretty much done at this point, I'd seen enough boobs to put my browser history to shame and I just wanted a normal chat. I just start asking her really random questions. She tells me she loves dogs and suddenly my face lights up! "I HAVE A DOG! I ALSO LOVE DOGS! HERE'S MY DOG!" I get my phone out and show her Luther. She doesn't seem impressed at all. I'm a little offended, my dog is awesome I think to myself, I shout across the way to my friend and his stripper "Hey. Don't you find Luther awesome?". Once again I get disapproving looks from my friend, I also notice behind him a very disapproving look from a rather towering bald man.. It happens that in my drunken state I may have forgotten one of the rules... Phones aren't even allowed for sharing cute animal pictures or memes. 

It's getting near the end of the night now and I am still talking to Kat (Let's be realistic, I don't remember her name...). She tells me that she's having a good time talking to me and wants to continue the conversation in the back.. I ask if they have Mario Kart back there and she laughs and leads me into the back... There wasn't Mario Kart. 

So we are in this new room and there is a bed, she offers me a dance and by this time I'm once again at that state of, why not?. I lay back on the bed and feel the sprung mattress dig into my back, I say to her that she should get a Sleep Genie Adam Mattress but she ignores me. I lay there looking at the ceiling when all of a sudden... Well... The only way to describe it.. Is she roly poly'd on me. She sort of put her head on the end of the bed and flipped over so that her legs were now either side of my face and I was staring into, what can only be described as, an Ood from Doctor Who. 

I'm struggling to come to terms with what just happened, I used to Roly Poly on my bed when I was about 10 pretending to be a Power Ranger, but this grown women has just done it to me, on top of me.. and I bloody paid for it. Just as I think things can't get any weirder, she takes her knickers which she was holding in her hand.. and just places them on my head. She put them on me! and then sort of leans back and tilts her head and say's "Awww look, now you're the king of the strip club"... SHE JUST CROWNED ME WITH HER KNICKERS...

It also didn't grant me any power... I said to her as King that I wanted my money back, she ignored me again. 
The dance finishes and I get up from the bed and try to walk out, she forcefully takes my crown off of me in a rather quick swipe which would be enough to give a small toddler whiplash.

The strip club DJ says the place is closing and we leave.

The next morning I wake up with a terrible hangover and a feeling of dread.. I suddenly realise how much I spent in there...

£119.

Never Again.

Thanks for reading, please don't come up to me and put your underwear on my head. I won't pay you.

If you enjoyed this please give it a share, tell your friends, show it to a stripper, give it a like and most importantly have a fantastic Christmas.

This will be my last blog of 2016 (I might do some in 2017) and I just want to say a massive thank you for anyone who's taken the time to read them, It really means a lot!

If you are a first time reader, why not check out my other entries? Here are some links!

Remember the time my Ex's Dad took me to court?

Remember the time I went on an unsuccessful date?

Remember the time I was on Dating Apps?

6.5/10 | The Art Of Dating Apps

Do you like Pictures? This Blog has loads of pictures, of text, that you have to read.

But,

Before I begin, I just want to say a massive thank you to everyone who has been reading my blogs, I am genuinely so humbled by the support and love that they have received. If you've never read any of my blogs here is what others have had to say:

"Love your blogs Ross" - Jan
"Looking forward to your next blog post. You're a very funny writer!" - Bobby
"Love reading these, helps me take my mind off of my own appalling love life." - WIll
"This is the best thing in the world. Thank you Ross" - Holly
"This happened 4 years ago and it just shows that you have no respect for people" Anonymous

I love all the feedback I have received so thank you! 

Moving on.

The famous saying is "Write about what you know", which is why most of you are scratching your head at the title. However, contrary to belief, Me, a 23 year old, single, self deprecating and desperate fool is on dating apps. It's not that it's a complete disaster, which will upset most of you, it's just that, like your favourite TV show when it hits series 3, it's not going well (there are exceptions I know, but just let me have that one, okay?).

But before we get to Dating Apps, let's talk the real world.

I've always been a bit of a romantic and old fashioned when it comes to dating. I want to wine and dine you, serenade you, write you poem-

I'm kidding, what I really want to do is take you to laser tag and shoot you in the face with a laser show that rivals Epcot at Disney on New Years Eve. It's then quite hard to believe that I haven't been on that many dates, probably less than five. The dates I have been on have been a bit hit and miss, for example, one date spawned a relationship that lasted nearly two years, which I would call a success, whilst another ended with the girl getting back with her ex, I count that one as a failure.

I think the main reason I don't go on more dates, other than being a 6.5/10, is that half the time I chase after the wrong girls.

Take for example my Secondary School crush. This girl I fancied for years, I thought she was absolutely amazing, I would go weak at the knees every time she passed me in the playground and would choke up if she ever tried to talk to me. I remember working up the courage to tell her how I felt on MSN, I'd logged on and off again 5 times in a row just to get her attention only to be met with a resounding "no" to my advances... Anyway.. she has a girlfriend now. WRONG GIRL

Take for example my first crush in my new school for sixth form (no, not the one from the Nandos blog). We were great friends and I even went to see her Christmas show performance of the Grinch just because I thought it would help me get further with her, It didn't, but the show was actually pretty good so.. Anyway, I mistook her friendship for "I love you Ross, you will be the father to my child".. Well I'm not. WRONG GIRL (Congrats by the way!)

Take also for example the stripper I had a lap dance from recently. She was awesome. Down to earth, incredibly beautiful and loved Dogs (Yes, I talked to a stripper about dogs. I showed her a picture of Luther, I also showed her my Star Wars key ring, she loved it). Things were going great until I had to pay. Bit of a gold digger, only in it for the money. WRONG GIRL

But it's hard on a day to day basis to meet someone that you genuinely like and connect with. The likelihood of me playing PS4, eating 5 sausage rolls in a row and a girl bursting through my door and making love to me is 0%.. Although it sounds like a decent plot for a porno.

So how do you meet and talk to someone? In the modern day it's a very rare thing (unless alcohol is involved) for a guy to have the courage to walk up to a girl and strike up a conversation. Which is why I will forever be awkwardly staring at the really pretty girl who sits across the way in the office space. It's just not in our nature. Is it the fear of rejection? Is it the need to play it cool? I'm not sure.

But, of course, like most things, there is an App for that
Tinder/Plenty of Fish

See, Dating Apps are a beautiful thing. It takes the most romantic, courageous and confident aspects of a guy walking up to a girl and saying hello and replaces them with seediness, cowardliness and fake confidence that allows them to message "nudes?".

Guys, I'm going to let you into a little secret, these sites are great, but, if like me, you are rated under a 7 in the looks department, then don't expect to get many matches.

Now I've probably divided you, you're either thinking "Oh don't be so hard on yourself Ross, you're attractive enough" Or "Naa to be fair Ross, you look like Neville Longbottom"

- Side note. You know what annoys me the most when people say that? It's afterwards when they say "Yeah but the guy who played Neville Longbottom is hot now" and I'm like.. Yes.. But I don't look like Matthew Lewis the now attractive actor.. I look like Neville fucking Longbottom. Matthew Lewis had to have a fat suit and false teeth. I could have saved Warner Brothers fortunes. 

But anyway, that's not to say that I don't get the occasional match, because I do. I'm not sure whether it's what my Bio says, the fact I have Luther in my picture or that the girl is epileptic and someone flashed a light in her eye and the spasm accidentally sent her swiping finger flying right.

Here's my Tinder for Reference.

So that's success right? Nope. Once you've mutually agreed that you sorta like the idea of seeing the other one naked you then need to actually message.

So at first I struggled finding what the perfect message is to say. The problem is girls on Dating websites get hundreds of guys messaging them, so saying something like "hey" or "hows it going?" just isn't going to make you stick out.. I also wouldn't recommend poems.

*The screenshots you are about to see are completely real, these are sourced by mine and Matt Arter's (another lonely heart) experiences on Tinder and Plenty of Fish. Pictures on Tinder have been hidden and Usernames and Pictures on Plenty of Fish have been hidden to protect the identities of those involved and stop any unwanted defamation of character (Although, That's not how Defamation of Character works, but a lot of people don't know that)
Im getting good at disclaimers.

At first I tried generic attempts to be funny.. met with resounding rejection.

There was the one who didn't like the Kaiser Chiefs

The one who didn't get a blatant reference

And the one who didn't like this excellent play on her name. Like really, I thought I was a bloody genius for this one..

After a while of getting rejected and no replies I watched a video (yes, I did my bloody research) on how to send interesting messages, and this one Youtube channel suggested role playing divorce as a method of getting their attention, a typical conversation would be as follows:

"Hey! I have some bad news!"
"Whats that?"
"Our Divorce papers have come through, I'm taking the cheese toasty machine and silk sheets"
"Well I'm taking the dog and the Television..."
and then we go from there.. It actually works pretty well and I've gotten a few numbers from doing this.

You're now thinking "Okay, that's cute Ross, but why have you told us this?" and the answer is you need to know that is my usual go to chat up line before being met with these amazing rejections.. I said it worked pretty well, not that it works all the time.

There was the one where I thought it was going really well... but wasn't.

The one who wanted to go on Jeremy Kyle

and the one who was going through a really tough time

You may be wondering (If you're still reading this, bloody hell, this one isn't as good as the last two is it?) if anything has ever gone further with any matches and successful conversations I have had. Could it be a modern romantic tale? He swipes the girl, He fake divorces the girl, He gets the girls number, He gets the girl to date him, He falls in love with the girl, He gets the girl to fall in love with him. Answer is, No. In all honesty, I've only gone on one actual tinder date and a bird shat on me whilst we were sat on a bench in town.. A pigeon that is.. Not her.

If I'm being honest, I go on these websites out of boredom and loneliness rather than an actual need to find a romantic partner. Sure, I would love to meet someone I really like but I know deep down that my future wife isn't Hannah who has the dog snapchat filter on and lives 22km away, but until I bump into the famous actress that I will marry, at the Oscars, after months of planning and stalking, she'll do.

If you do happen to enjoy what I write, it really does mean the world to me when you praise me like a dog who's suddenly stopped shitting in the house and learnt that it's much more fun to do it in places where people might step in it, so give it a like, a comment or even a share.

Super-like and out.

The Disappointing Sequel | Expectations vs Reality

Wow..

First of all I want to say a massive thank you to everybody who took the time to read my last blog (You can click Here if you haven't read it yet), I was literally so surprised how many of you took the time to read it and was really pleased with the feedback and reception it received. I suppose being taken to court has it's advantages. Level up: Popularity +1.

Now I need to be honest. That last blog was a complete and utter fluke as far as I'm concerned. I had something pretty huge happen to me and it made for a cracking story of love, loss, crazy bitches and court. Outside of that? I'm boring. (Unless you're a single female.. I'm really exciting, interesting and completely not desperate.. Inbox me).

Take a normal day in my life for example, I wake up, I order pizza, I spam right on tinder hoping to get at least some form of interaction with a human from the opposite sex, I fail, I ring my mum, I go to bed.

You know, It's not an overly exciting lifestyle to write about for a Blog. However, a few of you have asked me to write some more and continue churning out stories of my misfortune with the ladies, work and life. Thanks for that. 

I have a few more stories up my sleeve, so I'm probably going to try to do a blog every 2-4 weeks. Hopefully that way It will make my blog last a little longer instead of exhausting all my resources straight away and hopefully in that time more interesting and miserable things will happen to me. We can only hope. 

Right, enough of that. You're here for a story of me making myself look like an idiot.

How about my disappointing first date? Does that sound like something you want to laugh at? Good. 

Like most of my stories, I'm going to have to take you back in time, this one goes back to 2011 when I was in year 12 studying for my A-levels. For those of you who don't know, I went to a different school for A-levels, the reasoning behind this move was because the school offered what I believed to be a better prospect for my future. AKA. It had girls I hadn't met yet.

This is where I want to bring in this week's theme for my blog. Expectations vs Reality. If anyone has ever seen the film 500 days of summer you might be familiar with this. you can find the scene I'm talking about below. It's depressing.

So.. This blog and the story of my first date will use the Expectations vs Reality format.

For Example..

Expectation

I would start my new school, make loads of new friends, connect with a girl that I really liked, get a girlfriend.

Reality

I left school a Virgin. 

Or..

If you look really closely you can tell that the one on the right has been Photoshopped. I just bulked for the other. (Thanks to Rob Gray for photoshopping my face on two different men's half naked bodies)

You get the picture.

Anyway, so I made friends at my new school (shocker) and there was this one girl who I really liked. Once again, I won't be using real names, not only because I think it's horrible to name and shame people but also because every time I say her name my heart begins to break in half. Shit.

So anyway, Sarah wasn't only pretty, but she had a great personality, sense of humour and taste in music too. I was pretty much smitten. She was giving off signs that she might like me too, such as-

1. Looking in my general direction.

2. Talking to me.

So, I mean, you can forgive me for thinking that she was into me. The signs were all there.

Anyway, drunk Ross told her how he felt and got shot down, which was a bit confusing, apparently I was a good friend but wasn't seen in a romantic way. I believe the scientific term for what happened was "Friendzoned". Which completely caught me off guard, I thought her talking about other guys and also saying "You're like a brother to me" were all shoo-ins.

Some time after Sarah got a boyfriend and although I never really talked to him he was a pretty popular guy, the couple times I did talk to him he was actually a really nice guy. Which actually, funnily enough, makes me the Villain of this love story. 

They had probably only been going out a month when they broke up. I immediately pounced on the opportunity to be a rebound and start operation get out of the friend zone. #Frexit. I mean, It was my turn bro. She was upset and I was there to comfort here. Cue First Expectation vs Reality.

Expectation

I ask her on a romantic date, she says yes. She immediately starts to think of me as more than just a friend and see's that there is potential to develop something more between us.

Reality

I ask her if she want's to do something. She says yes. She wants to be distracted from her ex. 

So.. To take away from that first point. I'm now thinking that when we do something, we are going on a date, romantically. That's pretty clear right? When you say to a girl "Hey, let's hang out" there is no way that she can misinterpret that to anything other than "One day I'm going to marry you and we are going to start a milkshake business, franchise it, become millionaires, move to LA, sell our success story as an Oscar winning film starring Matthew Lewis as me and live happily ever after ". Text book stuff.

Anyway, the day of the date comes around and at this point in my life I am still washing dishes for £5 an hour at The Pavilion in Broadstairs (Shout out to everyone who I worked with there). I finish work, go home, get showered, put a shirt on (I'm making an effort) and then get in my Dads Toyota Yaris and drive to go pick her up.

Now, She happened to be at a family gathering during the day and she asked if I could go pick her up from there instead of her house, I have no problem with this, she's cool, her family will be cool. She tells me her Uncle is a policeman and that's fine with me, I've not done anything illegal.

Expectation

I arrive outside her family gathering, go to the door, knock, she opens, I give her a kiss on the cheek and a hug (of course I bloody do). She invites me in where I meet the family. I make a witty joke, they fall in love with me. I go up to Paul, the uncle Policeman, have some banter with him, he pretends to put me in handcuffs for being too much of a bloody good laugh. I say goodbye to everyone, Paul invites me round for Christmas later on in the year. We drive off on our date.

Reality

I arrive outside her family gathering. I begin to panic as my 18 year old self begins to feel the pressure of impressing people he has never met before. I start to worry that the Policeman uncle might somehow know that I have an illegal copy of Sweeney Todd the Demon Barber of Fleet Street at home on DVD. I ring Sarah and tell her I'm outside and ask her to come and meet me out the front. She gets in the car. We drive off on our date.

Pussy.

2011 was a funny year, I'm not sure whether it was our age group or something that had really just taken off, but, if you were to take a girl on a date, there was only really one acceptable place you could take her. A place that would make sure that she knew that you cared about her. A place that would make her question whether there really was something more than just friendship.

Nandos. Obviously.

So we rock up, I do a sweet reverse park into a space right outdoors and we walk inside.

Expectation

We enter, the waitress asks "Have you been to Nandos before?" I reply "Yes" I impress Sarah with my mad knowledge of the Nandos menu. We sit down at a table and I go straight up to the cutlery bar and grasp knifes, forks, napkins and sauce.. No messing about from this Nandos expert. She's now realising that this clearly isn't my first Nandos date and that she should snap me up before I have the next one in my sights.

Reality

As we walk up to Nandos I spot there is a bit of queue, At the back of the queue are family friends. This date is not going to plan. We stand behind them and I hope to god that they don't turn around so that I don't have to make the awkward chat and introduce Sarah to everyone. Obviously they turn around and spot me. We awkwardly chat and Sarah is introduced. Finally the queue dies down and of course we are seated on the table right fucking next to them. I'ts fine though, I can make this work, even with the new added pressure. I go up to the cutlery bar and grab the knife's, forks, napkins and sauce. As I'm walking back, I realise that perhaps grabbing all this stuff was a little too ambitious for my-

I drop the sauce. It smashes. The customers of Nandos let out a collective "Wheeeeeeeeeeey". A group of lads sat across the restaurant yells "Spillage is Lickage" and I turn bright red and sit down.

You can imagine that by this point I'm not too hopeful. This date has really not gone the way that I would have liked it too. I've not done anything to impress her and really just made myself look like a scared little sheep who's got his head stuck in a barbed wired fence.

Anyway, we look at the Nandos menu. I think I wanted a double chicken breast, medium, in a pita with peri peri chips. An average Nandos for an average date. I can't remember what she had, I'm going to guess a double chicken breast in a wrap, medium. Classic Sarah.

Expectation

I pay for the Nandos. She is so touched and feels like a princess. She starts to see me as a guy that will treat her to things because I think the world of her. She begins to realise that I'm the sort of guy that would buy her Diamond rings and take her to Paris for our 1 month celebration of awkwardly dating at school. My money and my willingness to pay for things makes me suddenly much more attractive. She wants to be with me.

Reality

I paid for the Nandos.

So afterwards, we leave. I've had a fairly fun time even though my expectations haven't aligned with the reality of the evening. But then again, I expected her to want a pudding and she didn't so I saved about an extra £4.50 there. So.. Swings and Roundabouts.

Dinners over. So what next?

Expectation

I ask her if she wants to come back to mine. She says Yes. We go back to mine where I have carefully planned the evening of the date to when my parents and sister are all out of the house doing other stuff. She comes back to mine. We watch a film, something good but not that interesting or plot driven so that her attention isn't divulged away from me too much. So we are watching Shrek 3 when I start to pull out the moves. Ross, you old dog. I put my arm around her, she gives me that look and then my prayers are answered.

Reality

She wants to go to some guys party I've never talked to before which happens to be tonight. Fuck. We go to this party, full of people I've never met or talked to at school. They are, lets face it, a different class of 18 year olds compared to me, you know, social, good looking, all sleeping with each other. I'm sat there whilst all these girls come up to Sarah and ask about what happened between her and David (again, not his real name) and she begins telling them about how they broke up, but also how last week she lost her Virginity to him. I'm sat there playing, fucking.. Doodle Jump on my phone trying not to cry. 

By this point I'm done with the night, I make up some bullshit reason of why I have to go and just leave. It wasn't successful. I drive home and Beyonce's "Best Thing I Never Had" comes on the radio. I get in, go to my room. I open up my laptop. I go to my history. I open the page and  I start to furiously ma-

tch.com.

I get a text from Sarah saying something along the lines of "Thanks for taking me out tonight. I had a really good time. You're such a good friend helping me keep my mind off of David. Love you xx"

Now, what you read is what the text actually says. What I read was

"Love you xx"

So I go to sleep, I'm a naive fool but I begin to think that the date was successful. Sure she said "Friend" but why wouldn't she want to date someone who's her friend?

Now here comes the last Expectation vs Reality. It's a shitter. But it's 100% true and was bloody heartbreaking for 18 year old Ross.

Expectation

I wake up the next morning. I look on my phone and she's text me. "Hey, So I've been thinking, that was a lot of fun last night, we should definitely do something again soon! I have a free house tonight, want to come round?". We live happily ever after.

Reality

I wake up the next morning. I look on my phone and there's no texts. I log in to facebook. I watch a video of a screaming goat. I scroll down. "Sarah is in a relationship with David". 

Yeah. She legit got back with her Ex the day after I took her on a date. Which leads me to believe that I may have misinterpreted some signs along the way and that perhaps, just perhaps, the date wasn't that good. In fact, it was so horrific that she probably thought "Fuck. I'm running out of choices here, I don't want to date boring guys like this for the rest of my life. I better go and get my Ex back."

So yeah, thats the story of my first "date" and a life lesson that you should never ever believe that your expectations will match the reality.

I talked to her the other day actually and asked her if it was okay that I wrote about this, can never be too careful, people will take you to court over anything.

She was like "Yeah sure, use what you like. It'll be interesting to read because I don't think I actually remember it"

I'm glad I have that lasting effect on people.

Thanks for reading again,

I hope it wasn't too much of a disappointment. If you did like it however, would be really nice if you gave the link a Like, Share or a Re-tweet. Helps me know that I'm doing something right.