Post by Dreadlocktruth on Sept 16, 2017 21:53:49 GMT
A subreddit I use asked a question about crazy stuff that's happened on vacations and so I decided to share *that* story. Since I wrote it up fresh, I thought I'd reshare it here.
Funny, this is the shortest I've managed to tell it in and it's still longgggggg.
_____
I guess this is a good time to tell the full story that I could only tease in my first voicemail, years back, because of how long it is.... Strap yourselves in.
So I went on vacation (my first time overseas) with a friend who - I would later realise - was unhealthily obsessed with me. Not only that but, being the clumsy idiot that I am, the week was full of the ridiculous kind of things you'd expect to see in shitty sitcoms but which ACTUALLY happen to me all the time. Case in point: on our very first morning in Malta we found ourselves trapped on our hotel room's balcony on the top floor with no water, no smartphones (this was about 2005) and, more pertinently, no guarantee that I wouldn't shit myself after making the poor decision to drink several cups of tap water the night previous.
Two hours passed before we got desperate enough that my friend had to call someone in England to get them to make an international call to the hotel and tell them that two idiots had let the door close behind them on their top-floor balcony, at which point we were freed by the manager who wasn't so much maintaining an air of professional composure as she was laughing her head off.
Little did I know that this would not be my only encounter with the manager that day. I was heading down to meet my friend in the lobby when I decided to hop into a separate elevator from the main ones that I'd spotted on my way past and which had intrigued me, only to discover it was staff-only. Oh well, I thought... it'll go to the same floors, no biggie.
Wrong.
The doors open and I find myself stepping out into the hotel kitchen where there are people in chef hats and several guys cooking meals and I clearly stand out as someone who doesn't belong.
But what's the key to recovering from a mistake...? Act like we meant to do it! And so, rather than turning around and stepping back into the elevator, I confidently stride towards the open door at the back - maybe I can find my way onto the main road and back into the lobby that way? - but quickly realise that it leads into a maze of side-streets and back alleys and I don't have the kind of GPS technology that would easily get me out of that situation in 2017.
So I walk back through the kitchen (probably less confidently, this time) and notice that, not only is the elevator on-route to this floor, but that I can hear distant voices and laughter approaching. I figure that.... yes.... it will be embarrassing but I'll just have to take the hit on this one and come clean. But then I begin to recognise the laughter and I realise that it's the same goddamn woman who just rescued me from the balcony hours before!
Needless to say I turned around and ran back towards the open roads (I guess I was more willing to potentially die in a foreign country than be THAT mortified twice in one day), eventually finding my way to the hotel entrance and getting one of the strangest looks I've ever received from friend who has now been waiting an hour for me to reemerge from the elevator, only to see me walk in through the front doors.
To cut a long story short, my friend - who is now but was not openly gay at this point - had hoped that this week away would end up in us getting together and when that didn't happen he got moody and a huge wedge began to grow between us (though not the huge wedge he'd hoped for). I won't go into detail but we had some huge personality clashes over that week which made me decide I didn't want to be friends with him once we got back.... which is ironic, because I didn't even know what he'd secretly been doing in my absence, yet!
Cut to several months later and I'd ended our friendship but something was still bugging me... my friend had gotten drunk on one of those nights and admitted that he had an account on the amateur porn website, X-Hamster which was no big deal to me. But when I'd casually referenced this the next day he'd been horrified and had said that he was worried about what else he'd told me, which had partly been what had put me at ill-ease that week.
Being the kind of person to use the same username across multiple accounts, I wondered if I'd be able to find him on there and see what he was so worried about. As luck would have it, I did and I discovered from the thumbnails on his profile that he was not just a viewer but also a creator, uploading multiple videos of himself jacking off in various football kits and (seemingly) getting a kick out of spunking on the shorts.
I was about to click out of the site when I noticed two thumbnails featuring him jacking off in a football kit that seemed very familiar because it was the same style kit as the one I'd slept in that week. Not only that, but it looked to be in quite a familiar room too.... and then I saw the title of the videos:
"WANKING IN MY BEST FRIEND'S CLOTHES, HE STILL DOESN'T KNOW, HEHEHE!"
As a side note, this was a time in my life when I was losing interest in sports and - by some fortunate twist of fate - I'd thrown those clothes away almost as soon as I got home. But I had, presumably, slept in them next to him at the hotel for a couple of nights.
I sent him an email soon after saying that I'd seen the videos and that I was pretty disgusted at the betrayal of trust. His response - and the last thing I've ever heard from him - was to ask if I still had the shorts and if I could send them to him.
The really ironic thing is that I'm the type of person who can't be around people 24/7 without taking some time to myself and he would complain so much whenever I went on a walk and left him alone in the hotel room, asking me what the hell he was meant to do left all on his own....... well, I guess he found something!
Funny, this is the shortest I've managed to tell it in and it's still longgggggg.
_____
I guess this is a good time to tell the full story that I could only tease in my first voicemail, years back, because of how long it is.... Strap yourselves in.
So I went on vacation (my first time overseas) with a friend who - I would later realise - was unhealthily obsessed with me. Not only that but, being the clumsy idiot that I am, the week was full of the ridiculous kind of things you'd expect to see in shitty sitcoms but which ACTUALLY happen to me all the time. Case in point: on our very first morning in Malta we found ourselves trapped on our hotel room's balcony on the top floor with no water, no smartphones (this was about 2005) and, more pertinently, no guarantee that I wouldn't shit myself after making the poor decision to drink several cups of tap water the night previous.
Two hours passed before we got desperate enough that my friend had to call someone in England to get them to make an international call to the hotel and tell them that two idiots had let the door close behind them on their top-floor balcony, at which point we were freed by the manager who wasn't so much maintaining an air of professional composure as she was laughing her head off.
Little did I know that this would not be my only encounter with the manager that day. I was heading down to meet my friend in the lobby when I decided to hop into a separate elevator from the main ones that I'd spotted on my way past and which had intrigued me, only to discover it was staff-only. Oh well, I thought... it'll go to the same floors, no biggie.
Wrong.
The doors open and I find myself stepping out into the hotel kitchen where there are people in chef hats and several guys cooking meals and I clearly stand out as someone who doesn't belong.
But what's the key to recovering from a mistake...? Act like we meant to do it! And so, rather than turning around and stepping back into the elevator, I confidently stride towards the open door at the back - maybe I can find my way onto the main road and back into the lobby that way? - but quickly realise that it leads into a maze of side-streets and back alleys and I don't have the kind of GPS technology that would easily get me out of that situation in 2017.
So I walk back through the kitchen (probably less confidently, this time) and notice that, not only is the elevator on-route to this floor, but that I can hear distant voices and laughter approaching. I figure that.... yes.... it will be embarrassing but I'll just have to take the hit on this one and come clean. But then I begin to recognise the laughter and I realise that it's the same goddamn woman who just rescued me from the balcony hours before!
Needless to say I turned around and ran back towards the open roads (I guess I was more willing to potentially die in a foreign country than be THAT mortified twice in one day), eventually finding my way to the hotel entrance and getting one of the strangest looks I've ever received from friend who has now been waiting an hour for me to reemerge from the elevator, only to see me walk in through the front doors.
To cut a long story short, my friend - who is now but was not openly gay at this point - had hoped that this week away would end up in us getting together and when that didn't happen he got moody and a huge wedge began to grow between us (though not the huge wedge he'd hoped for). I won't go into detail but we had some huge personality clashes over that week which made me decide I didn't want to be friends with him once we got back.... which is ironic, because I didn't even know what he'd secretly been doing in my absence, yet!
Cut to several months later and I'd ended our friendship but something was still bugging me... my friend had gotten drunk on one of those nights and admitted that he had an account on the amateur porn website, X-Hamster which was no big deal to me. But when I'd casually referenced this the next day he'd been horrified and had said that he was worried about what else he'd told me, which had partly been what had put me at ill-ease that week.
Being the kind of person to use the same username across multiple accounts, I wondered if I'd be able to find him on there and see what he was so worried about. As luck would have it, I did and I discovered from the thumbnails on his profile that he was not just a viewer but also a creator, uploading multiple videos of himself jacking off in various football kits and (seemingly) getting a kick out of spunking on the shorts.
I was about to click out of the site when I noticed two thumbnails featuring him jacking off in a football kit that seemed very familiar because it was the same style kit as the one I'd slept in that week. Not only that, but it looked to be in quite a familiar room too.... and then I saw the title of the videos:
"WANKING IN MY BEST FRIEND'S CLOTHES, HE STILL DOESN'T KNOW, HEHEHE!"
As a side note, this was a time in my life when I was losing interest in sports and - by some fortunate twist of fate - I'd thrown those clothes away almost as soon as I got home. But I had, presumably, slept in them next to him at the hotel for a couple of nights.
I sent him an email soon after saying that I'd seen the videos and that I was pretty disgusted at the betrayal of trust. His response - and the last thing I've ever heard from him - was to ask if I still had the shorts and if I could send them to him.
The really ironic thing is that I'm the type of person who can't be around people 24/7 without taking some time to myself and he would complain so much whenever I went on a walk and left him alone in the hotel room, asking me what the hell he was meant to do left all on his own....... well, I guess he found something!
