I was just remembering this time when I was younger. I was working out regularly, all hot & buff & stuff. For some reason I figured it would be fun to shave my pubes. Except I didn’t use a fresh, clean razor, I just used the dirty one I’d been using on my face.
So: sensitive skin that’s never been shaved before, dirty razor, warm, moist bacteria laden environment. Major ugly shaving rash develops.
So what do I do? Go out and meet someone, take them back to my place. We start fooling around and he’s like, “what the hell is that???” “Oh nothing.”
My “oh nothing” wasn’t very convincing, surprisingly enough. Never heard from him again. Well, what was I thinking?? I’d never call me again either.
So any embarrassing ways you are totally not getting a second date, and you really can’t blame the other person for never calling you?
I once cried at a Cheech & Chong movie on a first date. I think it was born in East LA. There was this really sad scene where a poor kid steals an apple off a cart and his mother made him give it back.
I wasn’t drinking or using any drugs at all, just under a lot of stress & apparently cracked under the pressure.
I was going to say “drugs were not involved” but obviously they were key to the story line, it was Cheech & Chong …
Sorry… just got distracted thinking back to the days when whether or not I’d shaved down yonder would get noticed on the first date… ahh, the 80’s…
My big claim to infamy was being horrible at choosing the venue. One girl I took to a movie–she hated movies. “Ah-hah,” I thought. “Need a more high-brow approach.” Took the next girl to Golden Gate Park/DeYoung Museum. She hated museums. Went to the beach with the next one. She couldn’t stand being out in the sun.
Hoo boy. I remember my worst time. I had taken my date to dinner, then we were going to an art opening in Pilsen, about 12 miles away from the restaurant. I neglected to make a pitstop after eating and by the time we got to the area of the gallery I was doing the pee-pee dance in my seat (I was driving). When we parked I couldn’t even wait to get into the place, and had to run down the street to an alley to relieve myself.
To her credit, she was cool about the whole thing and even kissed me goodnight, but I never saw her again.
As my SO says, never pass up an opportunity to go to the bathroom.
I accepted a date with the brother of a friend. It wasn’t really a blind date, we’d met once at my friend’s house.
Everything went well, at first. We went to a movie. I even remember it was Earthquake!
In the middle of the movie he reached over and took my hand. I screamed and threw his hand back at him.
He was missing the middle finger of his left hand, all 4 bones. It felt like some alien beast had grabbed me.
I appologized profusely, but his feelings were hurt beyond repair.
Just as well, I don’t think I could have ever held hands with him anyway.
Well, I had a date who slammed her own hand in a car door, but in all honesty she wasn’t getting a 2nd date even before that happened. I felt badly for her, but I mean really, slamming your own hand in the door? Really, who does that? :smack:
(prepares to get assaulted by a horde of dopers who’ve slammed their own hands in doors)
When I was in high school I went on a first date with a girl, ended up at her house at the end of the night and overstayed my curfew by a couple of hours (I was supposed to be home by midnight, I was at this girl’s house until 2 AM). Her parents had gone to bed and it was me and this girl on the living room couch.
Someone knocks on the front door.
It’s my dad! :eek:
He tells me it’s time to come home right now! :o
That was my last date with that girl. :smack:
I dare anyone to come up with anything more humiliating than that.
Then there was this one time at band camp… I spent the night in the Women’s CIT cabin with a lady I had been teaching sailing to, and got spotted leaving the cabin the next morning. I wasn’t recognized, but she was the only person in the cabin, so she got sent home.
Well, I was with the first girl I ever dated for 2 1/2 years. She went off to college and apparently found something more to her tastes (i.e., not four hours away). Two months later, she deigned to tell me about it. That was two years ago. I haven’t had anything that could honestly be described as a “date” since.
So, having not had a first date in two frickin’ years, it’d definitely be pretty hard for me to get a second. That count?
Hm, I embarrass myself regularly, but generally not on dates. Not that I am a sophisticated example of womanhood or anything, I just usually manage not to make an ass of myself in those settings. Too busy doing in most others.
There was the time I was on a double date and got into a toothpick duel with the other girl. I’m pretty sure it was the reason I didn’t get a second date. I console myself with the fact that any man embarrassed by my toothpick duelling does not deserve to be graced with my presence.
My first, last, and only date was almost four years ago and it lasted all of three hours. We *did *remain tenuous friends after she told me the next day that it wouldn’t work out though, so I suppose it didn’t go as badly as it could have.
