No Mutants Allowed

[Jebus]

One of the perks with growing older is the fact that you become able to look back upon the stupid and cringeworthy things you did as a kid and actually get a warm feeling from those memories. A bit of nostalgia, even, and a realisation that life as a dumb kid isn't that bad after all. Furthermore, it brings on the realisation that those cringe-moments, those moments you find yourself thinking of unexpectedly, those moments that lead you to facepalm when sitting alone in your car, are actually moments that helped define yourself and your life more than you would at first give them credit for.
I have started this thread to share some of those stories, and give you an insight in what an unbelieveable stupid kid I was.

I'll be posting these off and on, feel free to join in with stories of your own inbetween.

The First Time I Saw Breasts

I must've been eleven or so at the time. Me & my family were on holiday in Spain - Costa Brava, I think - and were spending a day on the beach.
After much nagging, I had procured some coins from my mother and headed to the ice-cream stand on the beach to buy some ice-cream. Little did I know that, at the ice-cream stand, destiny awaited.
Standing there in the queue was a revelation. An epiphany. A whole new world. A topless girl.
Those were the first time I saw boobs. And by Gob, they were beautiful. Nice, firm and perky, a big B or small C, with perky nipples protruding because of the slight beach wind.
I was gobsmacked. I stood there, completely frozen, mouth open, my eyes fixated on the miracle of boobs.
After a while, she noticed my stares. She looked at me and frowned. I could not pull myself away, though, my mouth hanging open, staring at her tits.
She turned around and walked away.
Still in awe, I turned to the ice-cream vendor, my mouth having open, eyes wide in amazement, not yet able to speak a word.
He proceeds to roar with laughter, the way only a hairy 40-year old Spanish ice-cream vendor can.

Why I quit Jiu-Jitsu

I was about 14. I had been going to Jiu-Jitsu practice for about a year, mostly egged on by my mother who was determined I had to do some sport or another after I quit tennis.
By chance, around the same time as I started, a hot readhead about a year older than me did too. As we were both new, we became regular sparring partners.
The first year was mostly about learning to fall and escape from someone else grasping you, then puching training started. We were taught how to strike, and how to deflect those strikes.
Of course, I never put all my strength behind a strike because, y'know, she was a girl; and she never punched with much force either because, y'know, she was a girl. We mostly had fun together, and I tried wooing her in a typical uncormortable early teenager way.
One day, she didn't come to practice because she was ill. So I was teamed up with the only other guy whose sparring partner was also absent: a big, burly black belt or around 30. We had to practice deflecting blows. He starts.
He went straight for my kidneys. I made the move to deflect that blow, but stupidly only put the same amount of strength behind it as I would've done if I was sparring with the redhead. He punched straight through my delfection as if it wasn't there, and hit me square in the kidneys with the force of a speeding pick-up truck.
I fell down on the tatami, and lay there crying with pain for what must've been ten minutes.

Fast forward a couple of lessons.

The hot redhead was back, so all was good in the world. All the preceeding lessons had consisted mostly of me flying around the dojo and limping home afterwards. I was looking forward to not hurting for the rest of the evening again.
Pre-practice warm-up was stretching. We had to bend down and touch our toes without bending our knees.
Out of nowhere, I let out what must've been the loudest fart in my entire life... The entire dojo bursts out laughing.
I spent the rest of practice desperately rubbing my heels against the tatami, producing noises that kinda sounded like farts, in a flimsy attempt to make the rest of the dojo think that was also the source of the first fart-noise. After a while, the redhead says to me, half-jokingly: "you can stop doing that, y'know - you're not fooling anyone!".
I never went back to that gym.

[TorontRayne]

Both of those stories were pretty funny. Sometimes late at night I cringe at things I have said or done in the past. I have this nervous twitch I developed when thinking of shit like that, my neck jerks to the side, and I instinctively want to facepalm for some reason. How could I have been so stupid? I actually said that? I wonder if anyone still remembers me doing that? I usually think of the mean things I regret instead of the dumb things though. The guilt outweighs the stupidity I guess.

I was coddled by my mom a lot growing up. She spoiled the fuck out of me, and I never really noticed until I got older. I have said some of the dumbest shit when I was a kid because I was a bit out of touch with reality. I never noticed how much of a spoiled prick I was, but now that I realize it, it makes me ashamed of who I was. Thankfully I have received many healthy doses of humility to beat the spoiled rich kid out of me, so it is not a issue anymore. At least I don't think it is....

I remember becoming sexually active with my first girlfriend. The awkward moments are hilarious in hindsight. I remember us both being naked wrestling around with each other when I accidently fell back with my ass straight up in the air letting out a fart in her face. I laughed my ass off, but it was even worse when her Mom and Dad busted up in the house moments later. Her Mom screamed at me about "Fucking her daughter" and I just sat there looking at the floor with a derp face. Sitting half naked with strangers interrogating you is a little uncomfortable.
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[Candlejack]

Brilliant thread and content so far Jebus. I shall contribute as soon as I find the time to do so
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[Jebus]

I'm so smooth.

I was around 16, almost 17. I was in my very first serious relationship - as in, a relationship that lasted more than about a month. I was over the moon: she was hot, popular, and actually let me touch her boobs. Heaven.
We went to the birthdayparty of a mutual friend, held in the gym/community center of a small nearby town. As we didn't know most of the people there, we spent most of our time talking to eachother. As so very often happens at that age, though, after a couple of hours we ran out of conversation topics and decided it was time to make out.
We snuck into the gym's locker rooms, locked the door, and started to make out big-time, standing up. After a while, she started rubbing her crotch against my upper leg.
I ask: "Are you allright?"
She says: "Hell yeah! Why do you ask?"
Me: "You seem a bit tired: you can't seem to be able to stay on your feet! You want to sit down a while?"

[Jebus]

Look at me! I'm a playa!

I was 17 or so, a couple of months after my previous story.
I was being driven in my older brothers car (he's about 10 years older than me).
I had just lost my virginity to the girl of the previous story, and I felt like a true bad-ass mofo. A whole world had opened up to me: I finally understood what sex was all about, and why the hell people went through all those things in order to get some. I felt like a million bucks. And most of all: I felt like a man.
I figured it was time I started bonding with my brother in a more manly way, what now that I had finally earned by entrance ticket into the kingdom of man. I decided to illustrate to my brother what a hard-ass playa I was.
... And then I started to make up some stupid-ass story about me cumming on her forehead and sticking a banknote on there.
He looks at me with a disappointed look in his eyes and says "Wouter, you shouldn't do that kind of thing. She's a sweet girl."
I cringe and immediately start wondering why I ever was stupid enough to make up that story.

Next weekend, my g/f stays over at my place for the entire weekend. My brother came over for lunch that sunday.
When he greets my girlfriend, he has a sad look of sympathy in his eyes.

I'm ten years older now, and I still haven't had the balls to tell my brother I only made that story up to impress him.

[Lukus]

Brilliant thread!

[Mikey]

Reading this thread I have the most bizarre mixture of feelings: envy that you people have between you a plethora of interesting stories to tell, yet also intense gratitude that I did not live through such cringe.
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[TwinkieGorilla]

Oooh. This is a good thread.

*placeholder*

[Jebus]

Oh man, Luke, that story is so incredibly recogniseable. Oh man. Memories are flooding in.

This is going to be mentioned in the teachers lounge.

I am 17, and feeling at the zenith of my existence so far. I've recently lost my virginity, I'm the most popular guy in school (not much competition - it had been a girls school up to one year before I enrolled and there were like 25 guys in the entire school of 800), everybody knows me, and the worst effects of puberty seemed to be subsiding.

For German class, we were given the assignment of preparing a demonstration in pairs for the entire class about a topic we were free to choose. I teamed up with the girl sitting next to me, and we decided that - because hey it's funny - we should do our assignment on anti-conceptives.

Now would be a good time to mention that my highschool German teacher was a good friend of... the mother of my girlfriend, who was the Dutch teacher in my highschool.

After having much fun with the names Germans give anticonceptives, the day of the demonstration was upon us. It all went well until we had to demonstrate how to use a condom... I was to demonstrate how one puts one on with the help of a banana. I had, however, never used a condom before (since me & my g/f (Imke) were both virgins and she was on the pill we never had use for one) - but I figured it'd be easy enough.

Lo and behold, I put it on the banana the wrong side up. In a desperate attempt to save face, I pull the condom down with all my strength - only to tear it in half. My face went redder than an Irishman in Spain.
Says the teacher: "Poor Imke... This will probably cause problems".

The next instant I realise she knows my girlfriends mother.

If you think that was bad, the other memory you brought back is a little tale I like to call...

The most humiliating moment of my life

I was 18, and felt at the nadir of my existence so far. It was the summer after my senior year in high school, and my first serious girlfriend - the one of the previous stories - had just broken my heart.
I had been dumb and naïve enough to let her go to Lloret Del Mar (a place in Spain where teenagers go to be promiscuous) together with a female friend of hers, without me. Later, it turned out she had cheated on me twice while there. I was absolutely crushed and devastated. We broke up, of course, but I was sure as hell not over her - and I wasn't going to be for quite a while.

However, only a couple of days after my heart was broken I decided to man up and fuck bitches myself. 't Seemed like the only way to restore my obliterated ego.
And whaddayouknow, I got lucky pretty fast. In a bar, I ran into a quite good-looking girl I had met at a party before (she was the girlfriend of a friend of a friend), and immediately started working my 'magic' as soon as I found out she was single then. For some reason, it worked. Maybe she still saw me as the shining beacon of self-confidence and masculinity I had been a couple of months earlier, instead of the half drunk desperate wreck I was that evening.

She took me back to her place - her parents were away on holiday. I wasted no time in kissing her furiously, and fumbling off her clothes. She fumbled off mine, and soon we were on her bed, naked.

My grief was still very young, however. When on the bed, the combination of my broken heart and the alcohol I had consumed caused little Jebus to remain utterly flaccid, no matter what I tried. And boy, how we tried. She worked it admirably for what must've been half an hour, but to no avail. Little Jebus remained completely unmoved.

I was horrified. In a desperate effort to explain myself, I told her everything that had just happened to me. In other words, instead of just being a loser that couldn't get his dick up, I then proceeded to become a loser that couldn't get his dick up and then proceeded to tell the girl that he couldn't get his dick up for all about what stupid ass he was for letting his girlfriend go to Lloret Del Mar unattended, getting cheated on, getting his heart broken, being desperately sad, and then broke down in tears in her arms.

Kudos to her, she actually consoled me. A couple of minutes later, though, I started to realise what an utter and complete fool I had made of myself, and left after apologising profusely. I never contacted her after that, she never contacted me either.

A couple of months later, at uni, I was in a new relationship, a few weeks old (it didn't last long). My new girlfriend took me out one evening to meet her friends.
The girl I couldn't get my dick up for turned out to be one of her friends.

[Dead Guy]

[Yamu]

Heh... one of those things my mind won't let go of? Constantly editing and deleting posts that are quoted in their original form without my notice.

BBL with some cringes, myself, if I can massage any out of repression.
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[Jebus]

Oh god why

I'm 10. I'm lying in the couch, my pregnant cat is lying next to me, sleeping.
I've been stroking her, and for some reason I start playing with her nipples.
My brother notices. "Just marry your cat then, you stupid fuck."

Oh god why. WHY?

[Candlejack]

I will try to follow your pattern. Might have told this before but might as well retell for the new people.

Accept me into your kingdom

I had signed up for confirmation camp. Not because I was particularly interested in religion but for the camp of course. As a warm up for this camp we were given log books. For 12 or something Sundays we were supposed to go to church and write down notes regarding what color the priest was wearing and the dates etc.

I went to one of these occasions, scribbled a little in my book and sat off my time. The problem was that I found it incredibly boring at the time and there were just so many other places I could be at, so the next time I figured I would just not go. I had to leave home of course, otherwise my parents would naturally know, so I headed out into a nearby forest and up onto a small hill. There I sat with a clear magnificent view over the Swedish archipelago with passing boats in various sizes (I grew up on an island). And I masturbated. There on the rock.

Afterwards I sat for a while and filled out the fields in my log book, thinking up stories of how my day in church was, and headed home.

I have no idea why I decided to masturbate but I tend not to think about how many people saw me on that hill that day.
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[Brother None]

Neat thread is neat.

[Dead Guy]

This will be kind of cheating, but well, better ones might follow.

Got Milk?

I was doing what we in Sweden call "prao" or "pryo", it's basically working at a real place of work for a week in 7th, 8th and/or 9th grade. It's very pointless. I never cared about finding a supposedly good one, so I ended up at Statoil, a gas station pumping prime Norwegian petrol. Here, I put price tags on bags of chips, put stuff on shelves, threw shit out, menial tasks.

The station had quite a lot of groceries, and a section with milk etc, refrigerated but with a loading area behind, you know this thing? THey store the milk and butter behind the shelves basically, and load directly from the storage. I was bored constantly, so one day, while sitting in there, I pulled my dick out and masturbated. A meter or two from the doors and the shelves. If you lean forward and squint, you can totally see into the storage room.

Thinking back on this occasion I can't believe I did that, seeing as any one of the people working there could have walked in at any time. Blind luck I wasn't caught in the act. But, I got away. Or so I think, at least.
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Mice killed: 5

[Candlejack]

Fallout is fiction

Biology class in 8th grade. The teacher is lecturing us about mutations and ends with "Any questions?".

Me: Yes. Why do we look down on mutants?

*silence* *stares* and a teacher hesitating for a moment, not understanding the question and then proceeds to explain that we are the results of many mutations.

Almost immediately after I had asked that question I realized what I had done and my friends teased me a bit about it.


Background check

I find myself having no money on my account and call home so that I can walk someone through how to transfer money from my savings account into another. As a security measure my bank had installed a certificate on my computer so it had to be done from that terminal. My dad is the one answering the phone and I tell him to go into my room and boot the old machine up.

A few minutes go by with stray talking until he says "wha, what the hell". I ask what is happening but he cannot really explain it. As I cannot see what is happening I am guessing that he is having trouble logging in to the system so I slowly tell him how to do it. He sounds very displeased over the phone but ends up doing it in the end. All is fine and dandy, until I get home and see what my dad saw. A friend of mine had changed the background on my computer the day before. It was an overweight woman spreading it wide with a nasty smile on her face.

My dad have never mentioned this incident to me and I have never brought it up either. It is best left alone.
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[Sicblades]

My biggest asshole moment, ever

College semester 1.

I'm in class, sitting at the front of the classroom, because I was dedicating myself to learning and acing my program. (I did, President's List motherfucka!) For some reason, I could always feel like I was being stared for some reason. A few weeks go by, and I notice this girl that always sat at the back of the class sitting now two seats to the right, in the row right behind me. During the 3 hour lecture, I notice that she's just staring at me, and blushing, and biting her lips...

Too easy, I thought.

I go up to her and talk to her during our break. We end up skipping next class and going back to her place (she lived down the street) we're making out heavily, clothes are coming off, when suddenly, she starts crying. Obviously the mood is ruined, she starts telling me her sad life story about her mother and siblings, etc, while I could really think about was 'what the fuck'?

After a few days, we talk again, and she says she wants to start seeing me regularly. We're studying for a midterm when suddenly, she starts crying again and just won't stop. (She actually ended up ruining her textbook) She gets up and runs to her car exclaiming how she was sorry and couldn't do this anymore. It was hour 1 of our first date...

I was pissed. I mean, who could be that batshit insane, I thought. I had done nothing to set off this ticking time bomb and just felt like the innocent victim of a massive PMS attack.

Fast forward to two years later, we had gone separate ways after first semester. She notices me from somewhere and starts talking to me again, a few hours later, we end up at my place and do the nasty. Once we were done, I loudly exclaim, "Finally got what I wanted out of all this. Please leave now" So she did, and never spoke to me again.

----

So I felt like the huge dick I was to her, moments later, but I thought, fuck it, pay back for being a crazy bitch.

I still feel pretty terrible about it to this day, to be honest.
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[Lukus]

This thread is so full of win - love the stories!

Here's a real cringer for y'all:

The Tale of Lukus and the Suicidal Girl

As October of 2008 was coming to an end, I was working as a marketing manager (whatever that is) for an event/party fixing company. Work was great, but I was ronery, oh so ronery, and decided to try my luck with dating online. I registered at a free community – not a proper dating site, but a community, that I knew could lead to dates (as I had gotten a couple of fucks from that site before). Within days, I had regular communication with this girl who seemed to like beach trips. Great, I think to myself – the Lukester will finally get to dust off the ol’ general!

Details, too many to mention here, began to pile up speaking against her case, but I would persist. She was hot, sure, but at the same time the most blatant case of damaged goods I had (and have to this day) ever seen. In our first phone conversation, after I asked something about what she likes to do on the weekends, one of the first things she tells me straight out is that she pretty much doesn't have any friends. She was a 20-something stuttering, multiple rape victim, high school dropout, suicidal, food working intern, who thought what's difficult in life was "remembering what buttons to push on the dishwasher". Are you following me? Cause I'm not really sure that you are. I was thinking of hitting this girl. Watching her photos turned me on. This is sick, guys. Looking back, it feels like I was thinking about hitting someone with downs syndrome, though this girls "downs syndrome" was only visible on the inside, in her little intellect. I pitied her. Pitied.

Why I went beyond that point is indeed beyond my comprehension, and the very thought of it makes me cringe. But beyond it, I did go. A highlight text message from her: "I'm going to kill myself right now. Don't have the strength to live anymore. I'm sad as hell." I felt like an observer replying to her bat-shit crazy texts, as if my cock had taken control of my central nervous system. I of course tried to encourage her to seek help, to call some support line, to go to the psycho emergency or whatever. I was a gentleman about it, but I responded, and kept communication going when I should have just quit at crazyness sign no. 1.

Exactly how I motivated it for myself, I can't for the life of me remember, but we did meet up at one point, after a few days of weird conversations. As soon as we met, I realized for the first time, for *real*, that not just something but virtually everything was amiss. I told her she should go to the nutjob emergency straight away, either by herself or if she wanted me to take her there, but she refused, and said that she'd rather die. In fact, she said, she wanted to die right then and there, where we were sitting, in a public place in the middle of Stockholm. I was consoling her with an arm on her shoulder since she had started to cry. (This is *not* long into the ‘date’ either.) "Release me", she said. "Let go of me. I want to jump over that ledge and die", hinting at a fence some 50 meters away, guarding a free fall of some 20 meters down on spikey rocks and rubble. "Release me", she spoke. I said "No", of course, "You can't do that. That's not fucking cool". I held her back, and didn't know what the fuck to say. I had tried the usual 'tell me more about that' approach when listening to her agony, as well as tried to tell her how there's help to get if she only seeks it, and that it doesn't have to be like this, etc. People were walking by, looking at me as if I was some form of culprit, or abusive boyfriend, trying to hold her back. I was only holding her down, physically, so she wouldn’t run to that fucking ledge and jump over it. Maybe she was just seeking attention, but right then and there, it really did feel like she was capable of doing it. I don't remember what I said that made her calm down, but it must have been smart, since after that I got her to promise she wouldn't run away if I released her, and I started to joke and what not to lighten up the mood.

Long story short, we finally parted when I felt that she wouldn’t kill herself instantly if I weren’t there to guard her. I took a five minute walk home where I called the police and gave them the story. They took her info and my info, and said they were going to try to contact and/or apprehend her. I think this is the only time in my life when I've dialed the Swedish version of 911 without it being a crank-call as a kid. I later saw her online at the community where we met, confirming that, at least then, she weren't dead. Then I never heard from her again (or at least I didn't respond).
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[verevoof]

Referring to someone, especially a suicidal multiple rape victim, as "damaged goods" made me cringe.
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[Lukus]

The language used was only intended to be beneficial for the story
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