How appropriate!
I found it (here); I knew I had read this before. I am always amazed at these threads and thankful that I am not in the dating pool.
Wow, you remembered a 3 year old post? I’m impressed.
Better yet, I even told the story about the same way, although I’d forgotten that I’d ordered a rum and coke.
It’s not as funny as some of the others here, but I’ve enjoyed this thread so much I thought I ought to contribute. I was a naive little idiot throughout, and lucky things didn’t turn out worse than they did.
It was summer vacation, and I was home in the East Bay. Guy I’d been talking online with for a week or so decide to meet in person. I was 20, and “Daniel” was a very accomplished 31-year-old, if his profile was to be believed - a wealthy businessman, former writer, deep in the music scene, and fairly handsome to boot. I’d just been out of a catastrophic relationship with a boy around my age, and the thought of dating an older man seemed appealing.
We met at an upscale pub in SF’s financial district. He…definitely looked different from his profile pictures. Not unattractive, but older, and his hair was such a different color and texture than in his picture that I wondered if it was the same person. He recognized me though, and gave me a very effusive greeting.
Dinner went fine - he ordered us drinks, which impressed my underaged self. Dinner conversation was a bit show-offy on his part. He’d got his MBA in Columbia after working a couple years in an entirely unrelated field, and was currently a hedgefund manager (he declined to name the company). At this point, though I was impressed as he obviously intended me to be, I was starting to wonder how anyone could possibly be so accomplished at age 31. But between my naivety and my accommodating personality (I’m an E/INFP in Myers-Briggs, and would rather let people perjure themselves with by false or idiotic statements than risk publicly embarrassing them by calling them out) I let it slide.
After dinner we moved to a nearby bar and had a couple more drinks. Outside the bar we made out, and he offered to get us a taxi back to his place. Excitement overcame doubt and I agreed.
On the taxi ride over, Daniel said that he’d very recently bought the condo from a friend at work, and the place still held his friend’s furnishings, so I shouldn’t be surprised that the decor seemed out of character. This detail also caught me by surprise; it didn’t sound like a very professional arrangement, but then what did I know about buying houses? Again, I deferred to his experience and authority. The condo was far out from the city, near George Luca’s Presidio, and again I wondered why a single young man would want to live so far away from the action.
We got to the house (which decor was indeed a bit frou-frou) and up to the bedroom in fairly short order. We’re making out on the bed when my cellphone rings. It’s my parents, wondering where I am :eek:. I tell them that I’m over at a friends house and shove Daniel’s head away from my crotch.
The conversation ends, and we go back to business. We’ve gotten naked and things are going along quite nicely, when he said he was out of condoms :eek::eek::eek:.
Me: “Uh…but we need condoms. I’m not on birth control or anything like that.”
Daniel: ::shuffles feet::
Me: “…Should I just leave then?”
Daniel decides to run out and get condoms. I offer to go with him, but he says I should stay there and be comfortable. As soon as I’m alone, all the unsettling aspects of the evening come flooding back and I feel very nervous. I pull my underwear and shirt back on and trot down the stairs into the living room. On the table I see Daniel’s gym membership to the YMCA. It’s his picture, but the name on the card is different from the one he’d been going by.
I’m standing by the door, clothed, by the time he gets back.
Daniel: “Hey, I broke just about every traffic law to get there and back as soon as I could.” ::Notices I’m dressed:: “Is something wrong?”
Me: “How old are you?”
Daniel: “How old do you think I am?”
Me: ::Long hesitation:: “I think you’re older than 31.”
Daniel: “Well, I find the internet is a rather facetious place”
Me: ::silent::
Daniel: “I’m 60”
Me: :rolleyes:
Daniel: “Oh, thank god you didn’t believe that. I’m 7.”
Me: :rolleyes::mad:
Daniel: “Okay, okay. I’m actually 40.”
Me: “I see.”
Daniel: I’m surprised you guessed, actually. I don’t think I look 40-years-old."
Me: “I ordered a cab. It should be here pretty soon.”
I waited for the cab by the door. It was horrific having to confront the man about his age as he stood between me and the front door, but thank god he didn’t try anything after that.
Well, there was this time my “date” puked on my shoes. Kind of unrelated, but a couple of weeks ago I was hanging out at a pub with a few friends and while we were outside smoking, some guy who was drunk off his gourd just upchucked onto the ground. I had such terrible flashbacks to the night that my beautiful red satin pumps were ruined forever, and scurried back inside, nicotine cravings be damned.
My bad first date story actually got posted on My Very Worst Date just a couple of days ago. I kept my cool for the most part, and it made for a pretty good story to tell my friends, but this guy was possibly the most bitter person I have ever encountered in my life. Part of the “awkward and stilted conversation” included him telling me that he was supposed to meet up with another girl the week before, but she bailed on him because she found a better party to go to. I lamented about how terrible it is when people are unreliable and tried to change the subject but he then went on to say how the girl ended up getting really drunk and didn’t know what happened that night and that’s what she gets for blowing him off :eek:
I’m usually up for meeting new people and making new friends, but that was pretty much the wake-up call I needed to confirm that there are a few crazy people out there.
Mine was with my driving instructor. I was 22, he was 32. We got on really well, and it got to the point where after each lesson we would sit and talk for ages, sometimes for up to two hours! I soon found that I really liked him - he was funny, good looking, and we shared the same sense of humour and interests. I wondered whether 1) he liked me too 2) he was single.
I realise now I would have saved myself a lot of hassle if’d have have asked him these things at the time, but I never plucked up the courage.
Then one night, (whilst i was still his ‘pupil’), he sent me a text asking if I would like to go for a drive with him - a non lesson ofcourse.
I was excited and told him i’d like to. So the next night he picked me up, and I have to admit, it was quite weird at first, probably because I wasn’t used to him driving me down country lanes.
We ended up at the coast, it was dark and we sat talking in his car. Then to my surprise, he told me to get naked. I laughed, hoping he wasn’t serious. We started kissing, and not long after he begun pulling at my clothes, obviously wanting them off me. I pulled away, then started to feel on edge when he unbuttoned his trousers. I decided to be honest. “I like you, but I’m not going to have sex with you right now.” He sat back, looking disgusted and asked “what’s wrong with you?”
Finally he accepted defeat, switched on his engine, and told me he has a financée and three children. Not once had he mentioned them to me, so to say I was shocked is an understatement…
I’m still working my way through this thread, but for more bad-datey goodness, I highly recommend A Bad Case of the Dates, a blog that collects and publishes bad date stories.
I love how they always mention the fiancee after their chances are blown.
After a rather hard break-up, I returned to the dating pool and was kind of disgusted by a few guys I met. I had recently moved and was commuting by transit to work everyday. I made a habit of sitting up front on the last bus so I wouldn’t miss my stop, and would often doze until we got there. Evidently, the bus driver thought I looked cute snoring and drooling, because he would always smile at me and make flirty comments.
Eventually, he gave me his number and asked me to call him, but I thought it would be weird if it didn’t work out - not like I could switch buses, so I just smiled and laughed and said I would think about it.
Finally, he mentioned that it was time to change routes (they changed routes every quarter) and that Friday would be his last day. So I agreed to go on a date with him.
The date was okay - I met him at the restaurant but then he was to drive me home. However, as he started talking to me, things didn’t add up. He told me he was in his 40s (I was in my 30s) but he mentioned that he had a son who was 29. Then he mentioned that he had left New York before that son was born. Then he mentioned that he was 25 when he left NY.
This was all over the course of several hours, so I don’t think he realized all the discrepancies he was handing out. Eventually, I laughingly demanded he show me his license - because I couldn’t believe anything he was saying. . .
He declined very seriously, which made me more insistent - because I wondered if I even knew his real name or anything. Finally I gave up and suggested he take me home. He insisted on hugging me rather tight, and then I reminded him that I had to be on the bus very early and he took me home.
He called me for a second date, and I said - “I can’t date someone I can’t trust, sorry! Tell me the truth or tell me goodbye” He never called again.
On that note, I have a story - didn’t happen to me, but to a very good friend of mine. She calls it “the Naked French Chef”
She met a very handsome and seemingly cultured man who worked in a fancy restaurant in downtown Toronto. The fellow was actually French, from France (not Quebec, as he apparently indignantly protested), but spoke perfect English with only a trace of an accent - not the full on Pepe le Pew impression. He also spoke several others as well with equal fluency. He worked as some form of specialty chef in charge of an important aspect of this restaurant, in charge of sauces or something like that, of which he was quite proud.
Anyway, my friend was duly impressed and they went on a date. Things went swimmingly at first. The only off note was that Chef was a little too fond of the sauce - as in, the booze. Which he drank in truly heroic amounts. So much so that, when she took him back to her apartment and they got naked, he was unable to stir her pot so to speak. In fact, he passed out naked on her couch.
Well these things happen to everyone on occasion and my friend wasn’t angry, only a trifle frustrated. She covered him with a blanket and retired to her own room.
Around five or six in the morning, she awoke to realize something was very, very wrong. There was a flashlight shining in her eyes and she awoke to someone shaking her by the shoulder. “Wake up, are you okay?” Jumping out of bed (stark naked), she discovered to her horror two uniformed policemen had appeared in her bedroom. WTF? :eek:
What had happened was this. The elderly superintendent of her building (a small low-rise), as was his custom, was making his early morning rounds when he discovered what appeared to be a naked dead body curled up on the mat of the side door entrance. Shaking in horror, he had of course instantly called the cops on his cellphone, before actually approaching the “body” and discovering it wasn’t a corpse, but a (live) drunk, fast asleep.
Our hero had woken up, still totally fuddled, on a strange couch by a rather urgent need to urinate. Mistaking the front door of my friend’s apartment for the door to the bathroom, he’d made his drunken way to the side entrance to the building (a short stumble from her door) and pased through. It locked automatically behind him. He’d done his business on the flowerbed and then, discovering himself unable to get back in, he’d simply passed out on the ‘welcome’ mat.
The cops woke him up and naturally enough asked a few questions. Apparently, his replies had been somewhat shady and evasive, but they had gathered that he’d come from an apartment inside. They followed his trail through the open front door of her place, expecting to find some sort of crime, and instead found my friend fortunately in perfect health.
At the police station the reason his replies had seemed evasive to the cops became apparent when his pregnant wife arrived to bail him out.
ZOMG! See - this is what I’m talking about!
I’ve had a few acquaintances who worked as chefs/kitchen staff and from my understanding, there is a certain faction that are quite fond of responding to the high paced stress by drinking heavily.
For a short time, I shared a house with a friend and her husband (they had the main part of the house, I rented 2 rooms in the basement and share the kitchen/bathroom.)
Quite often, I would come home from work to find her husband sitting on the couch, a case of beer chilling in a painter’s bucket full of ice, with several of them underway. It’s amazing how attractive he thought he was when drunk . . .
The postscript to that story was that my friend found one of the cops who showed up very attractive and had briefly considered asking him out, but thought better of it given the circumstances of their meeting. 
[At that point in her life she was probaby dating more people in a month than I had dated in my entire life … ]
I have to say that I really enjoyed reading all of your stories. Mine isn’t as bad as some but it is kind of funny.
Here’s my bad date story:
I met him (John) in a Barnes and Noble book store. He was browsing for books just like I was at the time of our meeting. Now, John seemed like a decent guy. Nicely dressed, clean, articulate, appeared to have all of his teeth. We got a cup of coffee and sat down to talk for awhile.
He was trying a little too hard, almost to the point of bragging about some of the things he’d done. I figured he was nervous and let it go. After about an hour of talking, he asked me if I wanted to go see a movie and maybe have lunch that next Sunday afternoon. Just as friends, he assured me. I said sure, why not. There didn’t seem to be anything off about him. Not that day… that is.
We agreed to meet back at the bookstore that Sunday at 11 AM. He was already there when I arrived so I had to walk up to where he was sitting. I have to say he made me very uncomfortable at the intense stare he was giving me as I approached where he was sitting. He stared at my body, looking me up and down and weirdly paid the most attention to my FEET! :eek: WTH??? It was summer and I was wearing sandals. I had to say hello twice before he even looked up to meet my eyes to respond to my greeting. His eyes looked sort of out of focus as he said hello. Okaaaaay, this is NOT good !!!
We went back out to the parking lot and decided to go to the restaurant in his car. I really don’t know how we made it there without crashing because he spent more time staring at my feet than looking at the road to drive!! It was really creeping me out!!! “What the hell have I gotten myself into here?” This dude must have a serious foot fetish or , or SOMETHING. 
Me, my feet and John got to the restaurant in one piece somehow and sat down to have lunch. Since my feet were under the table, he couldn’t stare at them anymore, thank God! We ordered our food and while we waited he said things like “I’m gonna take you here, we’re gonna do this together, I can’t wait for you to meet my Mother, etc., etc.” Whoa, whoa, whoa, I thought, I only agreed to a friendly lunch and a movie. He’s moving way too fast for me. I just let him talk without really agreeing to anything. Uh Huh. We ate our lunch and when the waitress brought the check, I started getting money out of my purse. He said “Oh, I’m taking care of our lunch but you’ll have to pay for your own movie ticket.” Hmmmm…Ok…thanks.
The drive to the theater was more of the same. My feet were being stared at with an intensity that was really beginning to scare me. I was glad it was dark in the theater so that he couldn’t keep staring at my damn feet. AND all during the movie he kept saying very loudly “Oh, boy!!” Over and over and over and over!!! “Oh, boy!” People sitting near us were beginning to look at him in annoyance. STFU and please stop embarrassing me like this! Oh, boy, he kept saying. Oh, boy! :mad:
FINALLY the movie was over and we headed back to the mall where the book store was located. He asked me if I would walk around to a couple of stores to help him look for, guess what? :smack: A pair of shoes!!! As it turned out, he never even looked at shoes for himself. He stayed in the ladies shoe section, choosing shoes that he thought would look good on MY FEET!!! Saying things like “I think I’ll buy you this pair to wear on our next date.” Huh? “Your feet will look sexy in these.” “Will you try this pair on?” I refused, saying “No” point blank. It just seemed so surreal, this stranger’s fixation with my feet!! After about 10 minutes of this, I couldn’t take it anymore. I told him that I needed to go. No explanation. Just that I had to go home. NOW… He looked confused for a moment and then said ok.
He walked me to my car. Once I unlocked my door, he leaned in really fast to try to kiss me. I pushed him off, saying “I’ve only know you for a total of about 5 hours, dude. I don’t think so.” He said ok and just kind of laughed it off. He then asked me to please call him later that night. I thought to myself, oh, HELL NO! I mumbled something in response, jumped in my car and then peeled out of the parking lot as fast as I could. He called me once more and I told him we were obviously looking for very different things, goodbye.
Oh, Boy!
I was sure that you were going to reveal by the end of the story that he was staring at your feet because actually he’s a dermatologist and had spotted a potential melanoma on your toe, and he ended up saving your life and you’ve just celebrated your tenth wedding anniversary.
I have to say, Tibbytoes, your story is my favorite! I haven’t laughed this hard in a long time. I see that we share the same sense of humor.
Now stop staring at her feet.
I’ve had many more bad dates than good ones…but there is one that stands out:
I met his guy through the Pennysaver. If you don’t know what the Penysaver is,it was a weekly newsletter that had want ads,coupons and some local news. Back in the nineties most of us used it to meet people on their telephone dating service.
Anyway,I met this guy on the phone. He was charming and sweet and I was immediately smitten. I hoped he was half as nice looking as he claimed to be,so I agreed to meet him at the mall. He turned out ot be hot-and I mean tie-him-to-the-bed kind of hot-and he seemed to like me too so after some small talk we decided to go to dinner. Dinner was lovely,he was gorgeous and I was in love.
Fast forward to three weeks later. We are seeing each other pretty exclusively,had had a ton of fun together and things were beyond great.I wanted to marry him. Here is where the bad date happens.
He took me to Raindancer,which is a really nice,expensive restarurant. He even brought me flowers. Sounds great,right?it was…until we sat down and he took my hands across the table. I thought he was going to propose or something,it was that romantic(not that I would have said yes) He then asks me “Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior?”
WTF? I mean,I am fairly religious,I read the bible,I go to church…but I don’t talk about it. Religion is very personal for me. I told him I had and thought that was the end of it. It wasn’t.
He precede to tell me that he had decided he wanted to be a Born Again Christian and was going to live his life according to the tenets of the Bible,which meant that he was giving up pre-marital sex,alcohol and “everything sinful”(his words,not mine) He said we were both going to hell if we continued to have pre-marital sex and go to bars.He also said it was our duty to spread ther word. Now this was a man who just days before had been doing Tequila shots off my stomache.
I said I thought this was great and good for him,but I would not be joining him on his crusade to make the world a better place. The date ended pretty shortly thereafter and we talked a few times after that,until he met a girl at church and told me he couldn’t talk to me anymore because I was a bad influence…you know,because of the pre-marital sex and the alcohol.
He really was hot too…
I’ve mentioned this before, but a friend of mine is an advice columnist and you’d be surprised how *common *this is! I guess some sects encourage this sort of proselytizing. Explains the hot Mormon boys always trying to chat me up.
Years ago met a gal at work, I worked at a muffler shop and did the work on her car. She came back a few days later and I serviced her car’s coolant system. I asked her out and she accepted. Took her to to see Lethal Weapon, while I bought popcorn, she said she had to make a phone call. Just as the movie started a guy she knew came up and sat next to her. She then told me that he was her ex boyfriend but knew he would like the movie so she called and invited him to join us.
A few minutes later I had to visit the men’s room. It was years later before I saw Lethal Weapon.
Good God. I am so glad I am not single anymore.
Man, that was one long trip to the bathroom.