I went into a cheese shop in Quebec, solo, and came out to find him scratching at the hood of the car with the back of the keys. She said that she felt sorry for me and asked if I want to have sex and I said hell yeah and jumped in the bed. Her co-worker was with a group of his pals, and one of them was particularly intoxicated and tragic: Think Your Ex Was Bad? I have this frozen image ingrained on my retinas of my bleeding cock, her on the floor all confused, and said housemate male standing in the doorway, dressed in a short leather skirt, tube top, high heels and a huge blonde wig. I couldn't get it up after that again and faced a giant humiliation. Thankfully, it was late and dark and we were both tired, so I was able to roll over and pretend to be asleep before either of us could address what had just happened. And the results are absolutely hilarious. I asked him what the hell he was doing, and he said he was trying to get bird poop off of the hood. Needless to say, this was not the start of a great love story. The rest of the walk back was spent listening to him talk about how he and his friends always do that between shovelling pieces of smoked salmon in his mouth. I told her yes and she said to come over, so I rushed over. This friend of mine, a very cute blonde who is out of my league called me after I left and asked if it had really been that long. I still cannot understand why on Earth I gave this man my number, but before we parted ways, I forked over my digits.