Have you taken advice in the R&M forum? How'd that work out?

Have you ever asked a question here in the Relationships & Marriage forum and actually taken the advice given? How did it work out?

I asked a question once about a girl who I was seeing that wouldn't put out after three whole weeks of dating. Eva who told me to just throw her down on the coffee table and take her. I believe she then called me a derogatory term like "thimble dick" or "panty waste."

The next night I was with my girl. We were at her place, watching a movie and drinking some grain alcohol, just like any other Tuesday night. Things were getting cozy, and I was feeling a little sassy, so I decided to try Eva's idea.

I grabbed her and threw her down on the coffee table, just like Eva told me to do. Unfortunately, the lit match with which she had been about to light a cigarette was very close to her hair, and it (her hair) went up like a bundle of dry wood shavings. She screamed and the match went arcing through the air, still lit. I watched in horror as it (the lit match) landed in a puddle of grain alcohol that had just been created by her leg knocking over the bottle when I'd thrown her down on the table. The now-flaming alcohol spilled down over her cat, which had been curled up in a ball sleeping on the rug directly below the coffee table. It (the cat) jumped up, engulfed in flame, and began running around the apartment, making the most horrible gutteral wailing noises I've ever heard.

My girl was screaming--mostly stuff like, "I'm on fire! I'm burning! I'm on FIRE!" I thought that was quite unoriginal, but decided that this would probably be a bad time to bring it up. Instead, while she was slapping wildly at her own flaming head, I quickly ran to the kitchen, grabbed a carton of milk out of the fridge, and poured out the contents all over her head. It worked, and my girl stood there, covered in milk, wearing a grimace of irradicable sorrow, feeling around on her smoke-damaged and fire-singed head for what had been a lovely cascading mane of blonde hair. She gingerly moved her hands over the bubbled brown blisters and charred flesh, and began to cry. I felt relieved that at least she couldn't see the red, raw, oozing bald patches and the short tufts of burned hair that still remained. Not a turn on, let me tell you. It was at that moment that I decided this relationship was not going to work out.

But I still had to find the cat before he set fire to the whole damn building.

I ran to the bedroom, which was the last place I remembered seeing the flaming feline. After a few seconds of panicked searching, I found him on the cool tile of the master bathroom--what was left of him anyway. The little ball of smoking fur and flesh that had until recently been Fluffy, beloved pet and companion animal, gave off a stink that could have dropped birds from the skies. I stumbled back out of the room, retching and trying not to vomit.

When I got back to the living room, my girl had put out the small puddle fire from the grain alcohol, and was now wiping up the mess and sobbing mysanthropically. She saw me then and her face changed. Her look of misery slowly turned to one of controlled rage. "I'm going to kill you," she said to me then, in the matter-of-fact tone of one who has snapped. I did what any man would do in that situation. I ran out of that apartment as fast as I could, and didn't look back.

Thank god she didn't know where I lived, or I might have been worried about retribution.

So thanks, Eva. Thanks a lot for the great advice.