dating sex horror stories

You’re The Worst: I Cheated On My Boyfriend At Pancake Parlour

‘You’re The Worst’ is a Punkee series where our writers and readers share their sex and dating horror stories, confessing to the times they’ve been rather terrible people, or reminiscing on occasions where they’ve had to endure some cooked behaviour from others.


I can’t believe I tainted Pancake Parlour forever.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Back when I was, like, 18 years old, I was dating a guy. He was fine. He was a fine guy. After dating for a number of years, it was getting to the stage where it was more a matter of ‘when’ rather than ‘if’ we would break up. I was really just going through the motions.

Anyways, there’s the background. Yes, I was in a relationship. No, I wasn’t overly invested in it anymore. So one Saturday night I found myself at a pub. I remember I was wearing an extremely revealing top. It was all boob city. I was in the smoko room (where most modern romances begin, right?) and spotted a cute boy. Now, I don’t specifically remember what he looked like but I do remember thinking that in that darkened and smoggy room that he resembled the lead singer of Boys Like Girls — one of my favourite bands at the time.

I was in love.

Anyways, I smooth-talked him – well, considering I was drunk and barely an adult, smooth-talking probably really meant shouting in his face ‘YOU’RE SO PRETTY!’ The night ended with me giving him my mobile number. Yes, I had a boyfriend but he was practically Martin Johnson!!! I had to do it!

As I woke up the next morning, a sinking feeling creeped in. Had I given my number out to a stranger last night? What TF had come over me?! I tried to forget about it all until he texted me later that day. He wanted to go on a date. A date?! But I had a boyfriend. I didn’t know what to do.

It should be noted that at the time, I was really craving pancakes. I panicked and in a fit of hysteria I suggested…we go to Pancake Parlour. There is nothing more innocent than a visit to Pancake Parlour, right?! Infidelity obviously isn’t valid if there are pancakes involved.

As the date drew closer, I kept thinking about cancelling. I knew I was lying to my boyfriend and that normal girlfriends don’t go on dates with other people unless it’s an open relationship — which it wasn’t. Nonetheless, I went to Pancake Parlour. I sat and waited for Martin Johnson 2.0 to burst through the doors.

That is not what happened.

Oh boy, I must have been DRUNK AS A MOTHERFUNKIN SKUNK that fateful night. This guy did not look like the lead singer of Boys Like Girls. He had similar hair but that’s where the likeness began and ended.

Add to this, he was very awkward and difficult to talk to. As we sat opposite each other in the famous Pancake Parlour booth, the convo dragged on. We had nothing in common and as awkward silences continued, I longed to climb inside my stack of hotcakes and drown myself in maple syrup.

Then came the cheating. First up, I didn’t bang anyone in Pancake Parlour lmao. What I considered cheating at the time was just pashing. Yes, we kissed. It was a bad kiss.

It was the kind of messy pash carried out by two people who don’t know how to kiss, or at least don’t know how to kiss each other. Teeth tapped together, lips were bitten, dignity shattered. I was relieved when it was over and I could finally leave Pancake Parlour. He texted me afterward but I never replied. A few months after, my boyfriend and I split but I never told him about my secret date.

To this day, every time I pass a Pancake Parlour and the syrupy scent hits me, I’m pained with guilt. And also hunger…for pancakes.


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