We woke the neighbours with our misbehaviour and laughed until we wished we had incontinence knickers! In a year of camaraderie, we made a lot of memories and some mighty fine stories we hold; from a flatmate who threw rubbish out his window to a landlord who couldn’t hold his liquor, there’s some crazies out there, behold!

A little bit shy and not quite as obstreperous as I, Miss. Jones puts the “(wh)Y?!” in OH MY! A sex-tale ensues that’ll make you pity the fool, a subject from tinder who was rather unfit! The goon was faulty and he so wrongly handled an incident that none could compare. To further hint, I can say with a wink – he suffers from the flops that so amusingly mimics the problems of Ross!

“This is a short story about my least successful sexual encounter, which is the only way I can think to describe this because I’m not entirely sure it would qualify as anything else.

Shortly after moving back having spent a year abroad, I decided to join tinder and swipe my way through some nearby eligible bachelors. One of my first matches ended up being this guy, let’s call him Tom (because that’s his name), who I’d previously met through a mutual friend and we started chatting.

Turns out, he was now at my old workplace and about a week later we unexpectedly ended up at the same leaving do. The night started off a little odd when we bumped into each other, were introduced by another friend, and went along with it.

Things took a more positive turn from there as we spent the evening chatting and seemed to get along pretty well. He said he had recently given up drinking (this will be relevant again later), however anyone who knows me will be aware that if I hand them a drink I’ve mixed, it’s a gamble as to whether or not they’ll end up with alcohol poisoning. So as I made my own way to the bar, I thought that it was nice that he was sober and still seemed interested! Two thumbs up.

After a few hours, the group started to split off and those of us that were keen to keep the party going headed to the next bar. Tom had decided to call it a night and bid us farewell. Fast forward a couple hours and I’m on my way home, taking out my phone I spy a little text from Tom suggesting that we could have our own party… ‘a party in his pants’ I drunkenly chuckle to myself.

I call him back and he directs me to his house. Upon arrival, we skip the small talk, keenly aware what this after-hours visit is for and make our way up to his room. Things start off well; passionate kissing, clothes flying off, hands everywhere. From here, it starts to go downhill, and I am telling you this story because perhaps it’ll make you smile, which gives me a reason for having to have lived through it.

So we’re in bed, sans clothes, and this would be the point I would typically have expected a certain someone else to be standing to attention and ready for orders. No dice. Not wanting to call attention to it, I just continue and wait to see what happens, plus I’m still three sheets to the wind which doesn’t make for overly logical thinking.

After a little while, I’m debating if it’s more awkward to make up a reason to go, or if I should stay, which he would rather, and wishing I knew how it should be handled. Knowing he had stopped drinking I theorised that it wasn’t whiskey dick, which was the only reason I knew of. Otherwise, I had assumed it only happened to old guys, or Ross from Friends. As Rachel said, ‘it’s not that common, it doesn’t happen to every guy, and it IS a big deal.’

It certainty felt like a big deal, and I had a million thoughts running through my mind. Who knows, perhaps this is perfectly normal, but it’s never happened to me, I don’t know the etiquette and he isn’t saying anything about it! I decided that perhaps I should just solider on and maybe it’ll make an appearance, I guess that was his thinking too as shortly after that it seemed like was wilfully trying to flop it inside me.

I’m not sure what that outcome would have been. He eventually alluded to it and just to escape talking any more I said “let’s try this” and worked my way down there, in hindsight he probably should have just stopped me, as the next few minutes were likely as awful for him as they were for me. I popped back up exclaiming “sorry, that didn’t work!”

I lay back down next to him, unsure of what to do next. He sort of spooned me and suggested sleep. Wanting more than anything to just get dressed and go home to escape this awkward hell, I couldn’t fathom why he wouldn’t want the same. Not wanting to make him feel worse, I stayed.

In the morning, I awoke first and tried to plot my escape. I caterpillar crawled under the duvet, down the bed and slunk out to gather my clothes. Tom awoke as I was half dressed and asked me to get back into bed and stay for the morning. To what end I had no idea. Thinking perhaps he was just more of a morning guy I briefly considered it as a way to salvage this disaster. However, I don’t think a sober me could deal as well with the awkwardness so I said I had to get home and change before meeting my sister, and proceeded to continue getting dressed hoping he believed the excuse.

Later that day, still running through the night over and over, I felt so bad for the guy and knowing how many mutual friends we had, I didn’t want him to think I was going to tell everyone about his floppy little friend – so I sent him a message to say that I hoped he has a good day, and perhaps we’d see each other again soon. And guess what, the fucker didn’t reply!!!

A couple days later, I tried again, and NOTHING! So not only was I invited over for sex, by a sober person, that didn’t happen and was one of the most awkward encounters I’ve ever endured, but I was GHOSTED! And I was only trying to be nice and make him feel assured I wasn’t about to tell all to his friends and colleagues. And I never did…unless this counts.

First and last time that I’ve been met with that challenge, and to be honest I am still none the wiser of what to do if that ever happens again, or what the etiquette is. If anyone has any pointers, please share!