I'm the kind of person who doesn't hit it off with people of either sex, regardless of my intentions, but some of my biggest blunders have involved copious amounts of alcohol, clothing which I'm embarrassed to even think about how I used to wear it and vomit. Not necessarily separate things, either.
One such evening I was out clubbing with some friends (I must have been about 17) and, as was the fashion at the time, I was wearing a see-through black mesh top, black trousers, high heels and a black push-up bra (gotta remember these were the days BEFORE I had a million kids, so slightly thinner back then). There was a guy I adored in our group (he played me for months, actually, before going out with the biggest bitch ever) and I was dancing with him. My gosh, this is embarrassing just writing it and it was a good 13 years ago...anywho, there was a particular style of dancing at the time which involved getting as close to the other person as possible and winding down to the floor as low as you could manage, in time with the music. So there we are, doing that, only my mesh top gets caught on his shirt and slowly lifts up as we descend, exposing considerable parts of me to the rest of the club. Only I don't notice until we begin the reverse of the dance and reach a standing position - with my top looped around my neck, I've popped out of my bra and to top it all off, the guy is already turning away to dance with someone else. Still I didn't notice - I'd had quite a bit of alcohol by that point and just thought it was a bit breezy in the club.
THIRTY FIVE MINUTES LATER SOMEONE TELLS ME I'M FLASHING TO THE WORLD.
THIRTY.
FIVE.
MINUTES.
I ran to the toilet, puked up everything I'd ever eaten since the 80's and grabbed a taxi home in complete and utter shame. Needless to say, the guy and his new bitch girlfriend used it as an "amusing story" for the next few months. I died.