Tell Us Your Most Boring Story

Illustration for article titled Tell Us Your Most Boring Story
Image: Getty

Welcome to bad summer, also known as August, also known as the worst month of the entire year. The weather sucks, the news is slow and things just get really fucking boring. Like, I had a whole conversation with my boyfriend the other night about needing a new bath mat and debating between styles. That is a boring conversation! I’m too young to be so boring! I should have something more to offer him and the world than, “Bamboo or memory foam? Should I keep it simple?”


So now I’m challenging you to beat me: tell us your most boring story. Usually the most fantastical tales win, but this week, I want you to try and out-mundane the other commenters. I believe in you.

But first, let’s take a look at last week’s winners. Here are a bunch of horrifying things you’ve seen in a fuck buddy’s home:

Graceless but Gracious, I’m sure your husband is very... interesting:

My former fuck buddy, now husband has a lamp that looks like an anatomical model of a heart, and when you plug it in, it “pulses”. I shit you not.

Do you know how good the dick has to be to tolerate that in the room?

dunnaeknow, you and I both know it was more than one sword. No one owns only one sword:

OoOooOoo... I experienced the trifecta. I went home with a man who had

1. a GIANT acrylic painting of Bob Dylan hanging above his couch that he had painted himself

2. only had AXE body wash products in his bathroom (this was early 2000s when it still smelled like gasoline and teenage angst)

...yet I persisted (*shrug* he was cute) but right as we were getting to it in his bedroom, he goes “Hey wanna see something cool?” and bring out....

3. A samurai sword

I noped the fuck outta there faster than anyone has ever noped.

Mount_Prion, you win:

Fuck buddy makes this awfully specific so I don’t think I have a great one, but:

I went on an OKC date with a woman who invited me up to her apartment to smoke a J. Her college age brother was there passed out and apparently sleeping in her bed, like, on the regular, as he was home from school on academic probation.

She then proceeds to tell me about how she has a Lamb Chop puppet she’s had since she was a child through which she expresses an alternate personality. As we’re smoking the joint, she leans over and slyly informs me that “Lamb Chop is a sexual deviant.”

Also she said a number of things over the course of the date that I realized, in retrospect, were definitely lies, and ate like 5 different pills while we were having cocktails.

The next day she sent me a standard “had a great time last night” kind of text. I said something like, “You seem cool but I can’t get past the whole Lamb Chop thing,” to which she replied, “What, I clean him all the time.”

goingawaytospain, um...:

First and last date; He had his dog’s balls in a jar on his mantle. He’d asked the vet to save them and was very enthusiastic about showing them off.

I nearly backed all the way out of his house after a quick survey of exits.

I can’t wait to be dead, I need to know if you’re still fucking this person:

I was at my FB’s house one random Sunday afternoon and he was gathering all his laundry to drop off at the laundromat and I helped him take off his fitted sheet. I remember taking off one corner to reveal that his mattress had a giant blood stain on it. But the stain seemed SUPER old, and the rest of the mattress looked incredibly old too. Which makes sense because his mattress was totally uncomfortable and felt super worn out. I was initially extremely grossed out and I don’t think I hid my facial expression real well and I remember him just dead ass looking me right in the face, laughing, and saying “oh! isn’t it cool? this is the mattress my mom gave birth to my little sister on. We’ve kept the thing in the family ever since.”


Devonna, that is psychotic:

He had a collection of used underwear that he had stolen from all his “conquests.” It was an entire, full-sized drawer full.


BRAvisima, I see no problem here:

I wanted to say his taxidermied grandmother sitting in the corner but in reality he had a photo wall with pictures of all of his dearly departed pet Chihuahuas dressed up in costumes. He was 6"6' and the thought of him walking them on a leash was jarring.


Kim Jong’s Angst, I don’t see a problem here, either:

Guy I was boning had this amazing, gorgeous, house on the water with a sound system that piped music into every room of the house. What did he play on this amazing sound system? Enya. 24 hours a day.


Snoreboss, yikes:

Once upon a time around 2012, I worked in a sleazy rental real estate office in New York City, surrounded by dudebros in shiny suits and square toed oxfords who spent half the day posting bait and switch ads for no fee apartments on craigslist and the other half loudly trading bullshit stories about seducing the college cuties who called on them.

I was paying my way through grad school hustling apartments to fellow students, living with my grandmother in the Bronx because i was broke af, and slowly becoming a depressed alcoholic. Tired, time strapped, morally depleted, and unwilling to fuck anyone in my granny’s house, I was sexually deprived and just kinda taking what fell into my lap, which ended up being one of the chads at work.

One year we got wasted on free booze at the office christmas party and i was drunk and horny enough to forget i’d probably be the topic of tomorrow’s hostile work environment brand of sexual harassment. alex took me to a rooftop afterparty his “boy” was promoting (ofc) then we took the subway (ofc) to his 3 bedroom duplex roommate situation (ofc) in the east village (ofc) where in a very darkened room he played me the “tracks” he was working on with his “producer” (omfg ofc he was *really* just as jean ralphio as i suspected)!

the sex was baaaaaad and after asking me “not to touch his computer or anything” (wtf, i still wonder if he filmed this without my consent) he said he had already promised someone he would meet them for a drink?! and left me in his apartment. ashe left i asked him for a sweatshirt to sleep in, which he threw into the bathroom as i was showering. guys, there were *playboy bunny decals* on the floor of his tub and that’s not even the horrifying thing in this story.

when i was clean and purified of this lunacy i toweled off, put on the sweatshirt and walked back through the shared kitchen not even caring if one of his 5 part time roommates was getting a coochie flash. i didn’t know how to fuck around with his dark mood lighting and couldn’t see in said dark mood lighting AND was afraid to touch his precious electronics after his request, so i just passed out.

I woke up still half drunk maybe 7 hours later and he wasn’t there. LOL, dude went home with someone else! In the harsh light of day I sat up and saw first, right in front of me on top of his dresser, some other girl’s crumpled up outfit, and when i turned my head to the right to look out the window, an open shelving bookcase entirely filled with fedoras. FEDORAS. A collection of fedoras! There had to be 30 fedoras. *5 fucking shelves of fedoras.* And one Santa hat. HOHOHO Merry XMAS!!!!


LaLadyDa, this is a horror show:

A whole floor to ceiling WALL of terrariums in his living room with various extremely large snakes and spiders in each, and his guest room was loaded up with MOREterrarium walls with huge spiders and snakes (I refused to go in there after the initial tour). He had SIX tarantulas! I am a literal arachnophobe and also very afraid of snakes and this was EXTREMELY distressing to me. This was in my early 20s when I was still a total over-accommodating pushover, so I tried to power through, all “cool girl” style regardless (ugh, smh).

When we watched movies he’d turn off the lights and the living room would glow red from the heat lamps and you could HEAR all the creepy crawlies skittering and slithering around just behind you. Trying to pretend I wasn’t utterly freaked out of my mind by this was AWFUL.

One night I woke up parched and braved myself to go through the living room to get a glass of ice water. I was fumbling around in the kitchen using the dim glow from the living room as my only light and trying to dislodge the ice tray from the overstuffed freezer when a bunch of frozen mice/rats fell out!!!!! I was DONE. DONE. DONE!!!

Also it was wimpy, terrible, highly unsatisfying sex and he shared WAYYYY tmi about his ulcerative colitis as a fuck buddy. Dude. No! Fucking GROSS. All of it. The WORST. I cringe to remember.


Get snoozy in the comments below.

URL: Senior Writer, Jezebel. IRL: Author of the very good book 'LARGER THAN LIFE: A History of Boy Bands from NKOTB to BTS,' out now.



I have a bedspread I really like, so I bought the exact same bedspread in a different color on sale a few weeks ago. It arrived last night. It’s not the same. It’s different. In small but very noticeable ways, so I’ve spent about two hours analyzing the differences.

The weave is slightly denser. The thread is slightly coarser. It doesn’t have the same drape to it, it’s stiff. The sewing on the hem is the same, but the bulk of the cloth means that it doesn’t crimp as well and I think the hemming was done lazily, but I’d have to iron the entire hem to figure out if it really is misaligned or if it’s just the different fabric warping more easily. I held the bedcovers to my chest one at a time and stepped on my scale; they’re 2.3 lbs different in weight. I washed them both to see if the fabric really is different; the new one is much closer to canvas in feel. I held them both up to the light and the new one’s fully opaque. It still doesn’t drape. Most notably, the original is a single piece of fabric while the new one has a huge seam down the middle, stitching two panels together. The fabric is stiff, so it’s a big ugly ridge.

I took photos, wrote up the exhaustive comparison, and sent the whole account to Customer Service. Do I lose the competition by ending this story on a cliffhanger? Because it’s out of my hands. Anything could happen now.