at least I have never... discovered that my parents are into S&M

At least I have never agreed to go with some friends, just for a laugh, to the Torture Garden, a well known S&M club in London. After a few drinks at mine for dutch courage, off we head in our finest PVC. Upon arrival we spend about half an hour in awe of the various outfits and carryings-on already in full flow. Then we spot a woman dressed head to toe in dominatrix gear, with a man dressed as a gimp on a lead, walking in front of her on all fours and being whipped. The couple look strangely familiar. And then suddenly my stomach drops about 50 feet as I realise that they are in fact my parents. I flee the club and never speak of it, but to this day cannot look them in the eye.

at least I have never done that. but i do know someone who has :(

at least I have never been the office Cinderella...

... and not made it to the ball (this is actually a rather sad At Least I have Never)

A friend of mine spent the best part of a year setting up a new initiative at work. It was a very worthwhile cause, basically providing support for people who are being bullied/victimised. It involved a lot of work and hours of essentially counselling very distressed people who rang up wanting to share their stories and asking for help.

And then - excitement! The initiative was nominated for an award and the boss said the company would get a table at the glitzy awards ceremony. After all that work, and all that emotion, my friend thought it was a well deserved treat. So she patiently awaited an email giving details about the night.

She waited.

And waited.

And waited.

The email never came. On the day of the ceremony, the rest of her office dusted down their tuxedos and little black dresses and disappeared en masse to the awards ceremony without her.

The next day, when she came in, there was a mini bottle of cheap champagne on her desk from the depths of a colleague's goody bag.

Bastards. At least I've never had that.

at least I have never... been a psycho girlfriend

At least I have never gone out with a boy and proceeded to mess with his head in every way known to man, including:
- being absolutely vile to his two female flatmates from the moment they were introduced to me and accusing him of having household threesomes at every opportunity
- having one pregnancy scare and one STD scare (both completely fictitious) in the first three months of the relationship
- smashing my boyfriend's flatmate's cafetiere and laughing when it was suggested that it be replaced
- breaking my boyfriend's flat powershower by not being quite as thin and agile as believed by self
- applying for boyfriend's flatmate's exec PR job when it was re-advertised after becoming a permanent post. Then posting said flatmate a job application form for the position of part-time cleaner in local hospital, with a note advising that, as I am obvously going to steal the PR job, she may as well have a go at applying for this one instead
- going through my boyfriend's email distribution list, picking out the name of his ex-girlfriend and sending her an email crowing about how brilliant our new relationship is. Then asking whether there is any way me and the ex can work together professionally.
- turning up on the doorstep at 2am after being dumped and refusing to go home.

Thank God she didn't last.

Shame of the Handbag

At least I have never ... been out a-boozing with my beloved urban family and got so unbelievably god awful drunk, that the last thing I actually remember is ranting to my friend and fit-friend-of-a-friend that the girl who they both fancied (and who had been present for most of the night but had thankfully left at that point ... I think) was a scheming slut and in Kat Slater style announced 'She'll break your bleedin' 'earts' (which for some reason has now endeared me to fit-friend-of-a-friend, who thinks I have 'great insight' ... the fool).

I then left the swanky bar propped up on either side by two buddies, quite frankly facked but giggling madly and still capable of walking ... not so when I hit the cold air outside. I then repeatedly fell down, whilst Zuzu was put in charge of my handbag, and we were then all bundled into a cab. I vaguely recall the taxi driver enquiring whether I was alright ie was I about to vom in his cab because there is an extra charge for that you know. I think I passed out at that stage.

We eventually arrived chez nous and I was hauled out of the cab by my best male buddy who propped me up against the garden wall whilst he tried to open the front door. My repeated drunken sqwackings as to 'Where's my handbag? Where's my handbag?' must have irritated him at this point as he shouted at me to stop worrying about my bloody handbag as Zuzu had it. I then burst into tears because my best male buddy hated me and had shouted at me.

Somehow we made it to our top floor flat and I was sprawled on the sofa whilst Zuzu tried to help me take off my Johnny Wows (read rip off Jimmy Choo) boots. Zuzu huffed and she puffed and she pulled me off the sofa ... because she was too twatted to notice my boots were lace ups and I was too far gone to tell her. We both found this hysterical. Eventually I made it to my bedroom where I threw the (empty I hasten to add) impromptu sick bowl (ie washing up bowl) that Zuzu had kindly deposited by my bed into the hallway because apparently I wasn't that drunk thank you very much.

There is a hazy memory that I may have tried to get out of bed and fallen, headbutting my bedside table and blooding my nose. I remember nothing more until the next morning. When I woke up starkers as a starfish on my duvet cover ... and completely mortified that I may have stripped off naked in front of my two best friends. The full complexity of the saga took a full two days to be unravelled from my amnesiac memory. For shame.

At least I have never done that ... oh ... my bad:(

bad judgement call

At least I have never...

Gone abroad on a work trip and met someone who, for some reason, I find masterfully attractive. After dinner, a few drinks and a lingering kiss goodnight, said man offers to give me a lift to the airport the next day. He turns up in a convertible red sports car and I am smitten. We agree to stay in touch, and after a couple of weeks of saucy emails he says he's coming to London.

When we meet on home turf the slow realisation dawns that I must have had a bit too much sun during our previous encounter. He turns up in designated trendy soho bar looking like an overseas student, complete with rucksack (rucksack!). I then discover that he doesn't really drink (another thing I clearly failed to noticed as I quaffed my way merrily through wine on expenses before). But after a bit of dutch courage on my part I decide that maybe he's not that bad. He is staying in London with friends and somehow I agree that he can stay with me the following night.

The next day I get an email from a heavily pregnant friend who is also coming to London for work and desperately needs somewhere to crash. My protests about having a hot date fall on hormonally-induced deaf ears. She is coming along for the ride whether I like it or not. So to make up the numbers I beg my best friend, who is battling with flu, to come as well.

We choose a local Thai restaurant. Entire evening soon disintigrates into farce. Date gets very drunk on two glasses of wine and makes cringeably inappropriate comments about the Thai waitresses. We leave before we are evicted. Back at mine, heavily pregnant friend makes herself at home on the sofa bed in the lounge, so I have no choice but to have Date in with me.

After some preliminary snogging (well, he is in my bed, after all), things start to get a little heated, only he won't let me touch him 'down there' because he's 'ticklish'. Odd, I think. So I give him a condom, he lunges on top of me and before I even realise anything is happening, he starts saying 'yeah... oh my god... yeah.'
'no... really?' i say in disbelief.
'yeah,' he says.
It's all over in less than 30 seconds.

Next thing I know he's in the en suite bathroom running water through the condom to make sure there aren't any holes in it (who does that?!)

Finally, he falls asleep. Only at this point the Thai gets its revenge. I lay awake, praying for dawn.

I am at my desk at work by 7am the next day.

Anything to get away.

At least I've never experienced that.

Oh bollocks.

The one with the briefcase

At least I have never ...

... worked in a company where business lunches involved a phenomenal amount of drinking on a regular basis and at one of these lunches got so ridiculously pissed that I was slurring and having difficulties walking ... and then had to go to a very important meeting with a client. Managed to hail a cab and then realised that the motion of the car was having a rather negative effect and making me feel so nauseous that I (drunkenly) thought the only solution was to vomit copiously into my briefcase ... turned up at the meeting rather bedraggled and sat there throughout the entire hour long meeting without being able to retrive the agenda, meeting notes or even a pen from my sick sodden briefcase ... yet was oh so aware of the pungent smell of vomit eminating from my briefcase around the entire room.

At least I have never done that ... and hopefully I never shall. The woman in question no longer works at that company and has in fact completely changed her lifestyle and now resides in the remote countryside. Its probably for the best;)

The one that left me in awe

At least I have never ...

... gone out drinking with work to celebrate the end of a group project, snogged my much-hated boss in front of the whole company, shagged another colleague, woken up the next day and called my fiancee to tell her that I have sold her ticket to the music festival that day, gone to the festival on my own, bumped into two work colleagues on the bus and told them all about my exploits from the night before and about my raging drug habits (oh yeh, one of them works in Personnel), nearly got thrown off the bus for disruptive behaviour, got into the festival, had a major freakout due to the vast quantities of narcotics consumed, got thrown out of the festival, got taken by ambulance to the nearest A and E, discharged myself from hospital and took a £100 cab ride back to my home, yet still make it into work that Monday.

I have never done that ... but I know someone that did. Name witheld to protect the guilty.

it's a small world

At least I have never...

Met a really nice chap at my mother's Christmas party and arranged to go for dinner with him the following night. During the day I have a pre-booked smear test thanks to prolonged nagging by my mother, who's a nurse. She has made the appointment for me, at her clinic, and assured me that a female nurse (not her) will do the deed.

So off I trot, and when my name is called I walk into the cubicle to find... my hot date waiting for me. Cue much flustered embarrassment. There must be some mistake... this can't be happening... but no. Due to staff sickness there are only two nurses on duty. My mum and Hot Date. Hot Date says gently that if I turn him down his professionalism will be called into question by his bosses.

Leaving me, legs in stirrups, Hot Date, ahem, down there, making small talk by asking me where I fancy meeting later.

Needless to say, the lady whose story this is, didn't make the date.

The original

The gloriousity of 'at least I have never' began a few years ago when the delightful Zuzu and I were on a big night out and ended up in a swanky bar with some friends of a friend. One of whom was a girl obviously the worse for wear despite it being very early in the evening and, well I'll let the story explain itself ...

At least I have never ... thrown up through my nose ... into my lap ... in front of my exboyfriend ... and all of his work colleagues ... in the vip room of an exclusive bar.

I have done many things but at least I have never done that.

Raison d'etre

We have all experienced those moments of crippling embarrassment as we emerge from the boozy haze of the night before ... and watch with steadily increasing horror as our memory slowly unfurls an embarrassing nightmare of shame.

We feel as if our pride and reputation will never recover. We feel that we cannot face our friends. Quite frankly we feel as if we will never leave the sanctuary of the duvet again (unless that is your 'at least I have never moment' is lying next to you ...).

In fact, often the only way to recover is to have a moment of schadenfreude and to realise that no matter what you have done, someone out there has always done something worse. And you know what honey, at least I have never ...