Good things come to those who wait. I do hope it was worth your while waiting (impatiently) for instalment number two of 50 Shades of Stirling University. Proud to have collected even more stories from over the years, all anonymous but all by ladies who spent four years studying, partying and being naughty in small town Scotland.
“My flatmate and I were keen on celebrating the end of the week at uni with a few drinks. Wearing short skirts and make up, we ended up in one of Stirling’s few cool pubs.
After a few drinks, we got to talking with a bunch of guys. We hit it off with two in particular so with no particular agenda (really!), we somehow ended up taking them home when the pub closed.
Being the good girls that we are, we kept the guys entertained but nothing more than kissing ever occurred that night. I could hear giggles through the wall so, obviously, fun was had nonetheless.
Unfortunately, the following morning work awaited but the men refused to budge from our beds. My flatmate and I had a panicked conversation in the kitchen. What were we supposed to do?
In retrospect, this is probably the stupidest thing we could have done. As our door could lock itself, we let the guys stay for as long as they wanted to while we went to work.
Expecting to come back to a flat missing most of its valuables, we were very relieved to see everything was in its right place. We’d picked a nice couple of men to take home. Phew.”
“On one of the most memorable nights of my first year at uni, in AKD halls I was quite at it with my then-boyfriend against the white brick wall – only to hear my flatmate being quite at it in his room on the other side of the wall.
But the thing is there was no one else in his room… Or at least he denied having had company when I saw him in the morning. I never specifically enquired after the noises, just in case he really didn’t have anyone in his room, in which case, quite frankly, I would rather not know what he was up to!”
“During my time in Stirling I was a member of a couple of wonderful societies through which I met a lot of lovely people. Of course, one of the people happened to be very, very lovely. An exchange student with dark hair, beautiful blue eyes and a smile that melted my heart immediately.
After one of the society’s pub crawls, having downed perhaps the 7th pint (which is pretty much always the magic number after which you should never talk to anyone), we got to talking quite intimately. So intimately, in fact, that after a while I found myself snogging the life out of him in a dark alleyway behind Dusk.
We proceeded to his little flat on Bruce Street, to his little room, to his little bed where I came to realise that the little things wouldn’t end there… To the point where even the little raincoat didn’t stay on and there was very little else left to depart with.
He did have beautiful blue eyes, he really did.”
“Let’s just say I was definitely up for some fun that night. Having emptied a few bottles of wine together with a bunch of ladies before hitting the club, I found myself feeling ever the more giggly and mischievous. It didn’t take long for me to identify the boy I’d be chasing that evening as he reminded me of a very dear TV character. And because of my wine-induced confidence, the chase didn’t last long either. We snogged and then we snogged some more and then the lights came on to say the night was over. But was it?
We joined the crowds making their way towards the cloakroom. It seemed clear we’d be spending more time together that evening… But then disaster struck. I looked to my left and I looked to my right. He was gone! And I had no way of finding him.
Luck didn’t bring us back together that night. I walked home accompanied by my flatmate instead of the hot young man I was so convinced looked like that Gossip Girl hottie.
We sauntered into the living room to discuss the evening’s events. My flatmate too had a sad story. The young gent she’d been canoodling with had briefly mentioned his girlfriend in conversation!
I casually took off my jacket and then came the scream. As it turned out, my conquest had been very skilled at giving hickies. For the next week, I was the laughing stock of the group, had to wear a scarf and felt like I was 15 again, oh the shame. Getting told I looked like I’d been mauled by a dog or had a deadly disease were particularly low blows.”
“By Scottish standards, it was a particularly hot day. Sadly, most of my friends had left for the summer so I didn’t have a reason to go outside and enjoy the sunshine. Instead, I was just slouching around the house in a seductive pair of shorts and a strappy top. As if someone was going to see me…
Knock, knock. Oh, yes, the electrician was going to swing by that day to check something. I let him in and watched him do his thing while leaning against the door frame.
I felt inclined to offer him a refreshment, considering the heat that day. We chatted briefly over soft drinks, exchanging the compulsory British, weather-related small talk. There was a moment of awkwardness as our eyes locked.
By then the drinks had been downed. He reached out to caress my shoulder and wham bam we found ourselves on the floor indulging in some very passionate afternoon exercise.
Like the scenario of a porn movie, he left as quickly as he’d arrived. Needless to say, phone numbers weren’t exchanged. It was an anonymous encounter.
And how did the story come to light? My flatmate saw the carpet burns on my arms… That was one heck of a summer’s day.”
(This remains to this day one of the most legendary Stirling stories, told and retold so many times even though the lady whose tale it is initially insisted on keeping it private. Proud to have received her permission to publish this juicy account!)