Mortification remembered, or not...

D_Tim McGnaw

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From time to time, having had a colourful life thus far, I have these random flashbacks of memories of horrifically embarrassing moments (I have far too many tbh) which while I was probably only slightly or not at all embarrassed about them at the time I'm literally left left cringing in shame about in the here and now.


This afternoon I had one about this party I went to when I was about 20 where I sucked this guy's BF off in what I thought was a spare bedroom while the BF continued partying in the next room. Busy and enjoyin ourselves we almost didn't notice when our host flung open the double doors which connected the room we were in to the rest of the house putting us on full display to almost everyone at the party including the BF. Needless to say that relationship didn't last long.

I was young, dumb etc, ferociously drunk, and I didn't really suffer with much of conscience back then especially where cock was concerned, so I just returned to my friends and carried on partying as though almost nothing had happened.

Today as I remembered it I realised that I could very easily bump into anyone from that party at any point, that I must have made that poor BF feel terrible and that I was being sooooooooo tacky! My host was soooo forbearing! :redface::frown1::redface:

I nearly died at what we must have looked like and I swear I nearly died of mortification this afternoon remembering it.



So my question is, does anyone else suffer these random recollections of events which you weren't all that embarrassed about at the time but are totally horrified by now? And if so, what's your story?
 
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B_subgirrl

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I try never to do anything that I'm going to regret later. Has been my rule since I was a teenager.

Having said that . . .

Throwing up when drunk on a doorstep one night. Unfortunately, I was too drunk to clean it up myself and the owner of said doorstep had to do it :redface:. Not a terribly romantic end to an evening. And as it was my first (and only) same sex experience, I was worried she'd think it was because of her (it wasn't!). :redface:

My other one is worse . . .

Cheating on a boyfriend to try to get him to break up with me. The cheating embarrasses me. The fact that I didn't have the courage to just end the relationship in the first place embarrasses me (I WAS only 18!). I think what embarrasses me most is that I enjoyed it so much. Including the bit (especially the bit) where he came to pick me up and I had another guy's cock pounding into me as he knocked on the door :redface::redface::redface:. Totally not congruent with my morals, then or now :redface::redface::redface:.
 

D_Tim McGnaw

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I try never to do anything that I'm going to regret later. Has been my rule since I was a teenager.

Having said that . . .

Throwing up when drunk on a doorstep one night. Unfortunately, I was too drunk to clean it up myself and the owner of said doorstep had to do it :redface:. Not a terribly romantic end to an evening. And as it was my first (and only) same sex experience, I was worried she'd think it was because of her (it wasn't!). :redface:

My other one is worse . . .

Cheating on a boyfriend to try to get him to break up with me. The cheating embarrasses me. The fact that I didn't have the courage to just end the relationship in the first place embarrasses me (I WAS only 18!). I think what embarrasses me most is that I enjoyed it so much. Including the bit (especially the bit) where he came to pick me up and I had another guy's cock pounding into me as he knocked on the door :redface::redface::redface:. Totally not congruent with my morals, then or now :redface::redface::redface:.




I have sooooo many horrendously embarrassing stories involving puke it's unbelievable. I'm a puker by nature so if the tummy aint happy for any reason it's going to empty itself like a fire hydrant all over the place. Not glamorous. :frown1::redface::redface::redface:
 

B_subgirrl

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I have sooooo many horrendously embarrassing stories involving puke it's unbelievable. I'm a puker by nature so if the tummy aint happy for any reason it's going to empty itself like a fire hydrant all over the place. Not glamorous. :frown1::redface::redface::redface:

I am a non-puker! I really, really don't do vomit. Cast iron stomach. In this situation the vomiting itself would have been enough to embarrass me. The fact that I was too drunk to clean it up, and that we'd just had sex made it worse :redface::redface::redface:. But I don't think it was too projectile-y, so maybe I have something to be thankful for!

Actually, embarrassing vomit moment number two - all over the floor at work when I was only 16. One of the other staff members cleaned that one up. I kept hearing about it from him and his brother for YEARS!

So now you've all heard about two of the three times I've vomited thanks to alcohol. I repeat, I do not like vomiting. *shudder* Glad I ain't you, Hil.
 

nudeyorker

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Well there was this time at the country club and we were having a ping pong championship and Bunny Bixler and I had this really terrific volley going and I stepped right on the ping pong ball... I mean I squashed it to bits... we had to call off the game and everything.... "I stepped on the ping pong ball" - YouTube I really don't have any good stories really... I threw up in my brothers brand new car once.
 

MickeyLee

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i reserve mortification for my "i am a horrible human being" moments. when i was cruel or neglectful to someone i cared about. thankfully, there haven't been many of em. my dumb rump managed to learn lessons of the valuable and behavior changing variety.

random embarrassment. hmm, i laugh it off.. being foolish is primary character trait. :smile:

not so shining moments... puking. putting myself in the hospital when stunts go bad. haircuts ya can only recover from by shaving your head. earth-killer event levels of fashion disaster. morning afters. walks of shame.

i got in a fight with a bench once. i lost.
*stupid bench*

ohOH! i set my best friend's ball hair on fire. hairspray, lighter, jeans.
i blame Nicki Sixx.. he never said anything about not wearing breathable material while attempting late 80s stage trickery.

almost cremating a man's testies is not something easy to live down. every time there is a bar-b-que he gives me that look.
 
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silvertriumph2

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Well there was this time at the country club and we were having a ping pong championship and Bunny Bixler and I had this really terrific volley going and I stepped right on the ping pong ball... I mean I squashed it to bits... we had to call off the game and everything.... "I stepped on the ping pong ball" - YouTube I really don't have any good stories really... I threw up in my brothers brand new car once.

Oh, Patrick...how could you ever think she was interesting and hot?
 

silvertriumph2

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I was barely 18, in the Navy, and had just reportred for duty on my first ship, which was moored in RI at the time. I went ashore with two new buddies I had only met a few days before, and we took a train to NYC for the weekend. I had never drunk liquor before (only beer) and when we got to the bar at the train station the bartender asked me what I wanted. I said "I'll have what they have."
They had rye and water and it was the nastiest thing I think I had ever had! But, I drank it and a lot more before we got to NYC.

Of course I got drunk and eventually passed out in the USO near Times Square and was thrown out. As we left the USO, a woman
asked me for some change...holding a metal can in front of my
face and giving me a hard luck story which for some reason got to me...so I took out my wallet and handed it to her and said..
"take what you want."

Well she took it all and ran with it. My new buddies were holding me up and by the time they put me down and ran after her (they were drunk too) she had disappeared with it all..including my Navy
ID. For some reason the guys had let me hold our train tickets and money...so we ended up with about $2.50 in change among
us.

We started to hitch-hike back to RI...hoping to get there by the time we had to report back to the ship. A big black sedan with driver, stopped and picked us up and we told by the man in the bsack seat that he was going to RI too and would take us to our ship.
For some reason we never asked him his name. About half way there, I began to get car sick and I threw up...which made the other do the same. So, all 3 of us threw up on the kind gentleman giving us a ride.

It turned out the gentleman was a Naval Commander and attached to our ship...
as the CHAPLAIN!

All 3 of us, in our spare time when aboard ship (with no further liberty), had to work for the chaplain's office for 3 months, doing office work, filing, doing reports, etc.
 
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Bbucko

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I have so very, very many of these tales of woe, in all forms (sexual, scatological, social faux pas, etc), both with and without alcohol. In general, I take such great sport in horrifying people, especially the easily horrified, that I have been known to up the ante considerably.

The time I dove into a 3' pool of water and split my head open was dreadful. It basically killed that party for the night; the time I bruised my tailbone falling while Charlestoning at 4:00 AM was pretty bad, too.

But the worst, most humiliating thing that I'd care to share this afternoon was my one-and-only visit to the Eiffel Tower. I had just moved to Paris about 10 days previously and was meeting the BF's family for the first time, so I was very nervous (but sober). Things went well at first, but then someone suggested we all (his mom, sisters and brother and almost a dozen kids) go up the tower.

I had trepidations, because I have a terror of heights, especially when I think that I'm not being supported well or enough: bridges, for instance, panic me completely. But my BF reassured me with such a fearsome combination of "you'll be fine" and "are you kidding me with with this shit?" that I took my place in line.

For those who've never been, the tower has three levels: two are relatively low, and the one is at the top. The first one, as I remember, went OK, so we went up to the second, higher one, in an elevator. The trouble happened on the second level.

Emerging from the elevator, I noticed that the wooden floors seemed to bounce and vibrate, and as if on cue, my palms started sweating and I began shaking uncontrollably. Things quickly deteriorated when I noticed that the planks of wood around one of the enormous legs were just shy (maybe 2") from the metal, and I totally lost it.

I grabbed hold of the leg, and nothing and no one could pry me loose; all sense was lost and I just couldn't be rationed with. Eventually security was called and I was escorted off, weeping, to the stares of not just my in-laws but, it seemed, the entire city itself. I have no idea why I wasn't arrested, but as this was in 1990, people in general weren't as security-crazy as now.

I have no memories of going home, but I was possessed immediately by the worst migraine of my life, which didn't abate for days.
 

umami_tsunami

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My entire life between the ages of 15 and 30 was basically a string of events that could be categorized as mortifying, shocking, embarrassing, disgusting and intoxicated degrees of socially unacceptable and downright criminal behavior. I was just coherent (and fortunate) enough to to spread the damage across Europe and North and South America. I was also incredibly lucky to avoid felony prosecution and stretches of longer than 3 days at a time in jail.

My father disowned me and refused to acknowledge or communicate with me from age 17-23. My actions personally and professionally humiliated him and I probably deserved it. Even though we made our peace and resumed a good relationship, I still cringe inside when I think about it. In one of the last conversations we had before he died several years ago, I apologized again for it and we had a laugh.

I'm not sure I can relate that story, but I will post one of the less horrible ones.
 

umami_tsunami

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i would so read your memoir, Mr. Tsunami. :heart:

Flattery will only make me spill my guts. :tongue:

Once got caught in a shitty little club in the ladies room "servicing my cocktail server". I was always up for a fight in those days and I ended up roughly ejected sans pantalones by the drunk bouncer and bartender into the grim LES Manhattan pre-dawn. No pants=no money! Had to fashion a "skirt" out of grimy newspapers from a dumpster and try to get a cab to take me to Fort Greene Brooklyn with promise of cash at destination. No luck there- and just as well, as I had no cash at home. Walked (stumbled) home, hammered and basically naked from the waist down over the Brooklyn bridge and across Flatbush Ave to my fetid apt.

I was on a "date" with a girl who the cousin of a friend. She witnessed the whole thing. I never heard from her or her cousin again. Oh well. Fuck 'em if they can't see some humor in it!