Heh - a radio listener emailed her wee story to the radio station and the DJ read it out on air. She (the radio listener) had met this bloke at a bar and they had really hit it off, eventually ending up round at his place. Spent the night together and in the morning she woke up with him bringing her a cup of coffee. He told her he’d had a great time and really wanted to see her again, but he had to get off to work. He instructed her to take her time and make herself at home, just remember to lock the door on the way out. Well, she was drinking her coffee and then decided she needed to go to the loo. To her horror, the loo wouldn’t flush and she was too embarrassed to leave a big poo floating in it. So she grabbed huge handfuls of toilet paper and fished it out. On her way through the kitchen, she decided to write him a note with a sweet little message on it about how she’d had a great time, then grabbed her bag, shut the door and made sure she locked it. Then to her horror remembered she had left the poo wrapped in toilet paper on the kitchen table, next to the note.
She never heard from him again!
Back in the late '70s when I worked at a radio station, I used to get explicit phone calls from a very sexy woman. She offered all manner of diversions and delights and explained them in great detail. So we arranged to meet. When I got to the restaurant, there was only one person there. It was her. She looked no older than 14, and she weighed 350, minimum. I don’t think I’ve ever been so mortified. I mumbled some half-hearted apology and beat a hasty retreat.
Note to future disc jockeys: if she’s calling you, and she sounds too good to be true, she probably is.
I once wandered into my (Muslim) friends’ house, about a half hour before sunset. There was a bowl of dates on the table, and I absently started munching on them as I was talking to them (I’m not Muslim). It was only after a little while that I realized that it was Ramadan, but they were nice enough not to say anything to me.
|:eek:|
I’ve had my share of humiliating/boring/awful/no-chemistry dates, but nothing I’ve ever actually been embarrassed about. I have a story that bears mentioning though.
One afternoon I was spending time at a coffee shop with a girl (though I hestitate to refer to her as girlfriend, but that’s another story) and we were studying, or whatever. When we first came into the shop, there was a man sitting towards the front of the place. Rather slovenly, quite overweight, and not particularly well-groomed or well-dressed. He had a big mylar balloon and a dozen roses. I don’t recall what the balloon said, or if it even said anything, but I do remember having sat there with this girl for the better part of three, possibly four hours, during which time he also sat there. Alone.
As we left later on into the evening, he was still sitting there, ready to greet someone who was never going to arrive. Or so you’d have guessed. My assumption was that he was meeting a blind date. And while I’d imagine that her not showing up wouldn’t count as a date, I would imagine it being one of the most embarrassing situations to be in. It probably goes well beyond embarrassing to downright depressing, but he put himself in it. Part of you feels terribly sorry for the guy, and yet part of you knows there’s likely a good reason he’s getting stood up … because the girl probably knew what she’d be walking in to … some fat unkempt guy with a bunch of flowers and a balloon on a first date. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe it was a second date. Maybe it was an anniversary. Maybe it could’ve been a lot of things. But my gut tells me that it wasn’t. You want to help him, but sometimes there’s no helping somebody who’s that lost. It reminded me that there are people out there who are more lonely, desperate, and awkward than you could ever imagine yourself to be, and it’s sad because I genuinely felt bad for him.
(bolding mine)
That was not a wee story. That was a poo story.
Why is this embarrassing? Being respectful of someone else’s religion doesn’t mean you need to adhere to it.
Date story.
Embarrassing date story.
There, there. 
I’d punt a finnif on the proposition that she told him to bring the balloon so she’d recognise him, and on spotting him from a safe distance she weighed up the “rather slovenly, quite overweight” and so on, and totally blew him out before he spotted her. I might lose my finnif, but not often enough to make it a bad bet.
Shove another note under the door: “PS - I’ve been suffering constipation for so long, but you are such a skiilful lover - I just wanted you to show you what you were capable of dislodging.”
But seriously, folks, just fill the wastebasket with water from the tub and pour it in the bowl. The toilet will then flush unless it’s clogged.
I’ll tell instead of a blind date I had back in college that was probably his most embarrasing story.
He arrives at my dorm to pick me up. We shake hands and he is so nervous his palms are slick with sweat. I thought we were going out to dinner. Turns out he decided to cook me dinner at his place. Didn’t really like that plan but went with it against my better judgement. Got to his apartment and his much better looking roomate was there to generally hassle and pick-on him in the way good-looking guys do to their dorky roomate.
Date looks to the liquor cabinet to make me a drink and roomate has consumed all his stuff except the last quarter inch in a peach schnapps bottle so I get a weak fuzzy navel and he gets nothin’.
He goes to make spaghetti and as he tries to open the box , his hands are shaking so much that all the pasta leaps out all over the kitchen floor. He picks it up and cooks it anyway. Opens a jar of sauce and microwaves a can of asparagus, and voila! We eat it on the floor in his bedroom since his roomate won’t get out of the way in the dining area.
He spends the meal talking about how rich his parents are and showing me pictures of their big house and the expensive stuff they have in it. I swallow enough food to be polite, come down with a headache and need to be taken home IMMEDIATELY IF NOT SOONER.
True, and I have made many similar gaffes in my 13 years of living in predominantly Moslem communities. But yeah, it is embarrassing … sort of like thoughtlessly ordering a great big gooey ice cream sundae when out with a friend who earlier in the day was diagnosed with diabetes. (I am told by a kind Moslem friend, however, that Moslems who watch you do these things, and forgive you/ignore the temptation, get extra points with Allah, so we are actually giving them a chance to be spiritually good.)
A-hem. That had nothing to do with the OP’s post. Sorry.
Just to explicate a little - dates are traditionally used to break the fast at Ramadan. These had been set out specifically for the purpose, and to sit and eat the first food people are getting all day is a little rude.
Though maybe not as embarassing as if I’d taken a dump on the table.
Um, I think** Jeff **was alluding to Panamajack’s post being a *date *story.
If we have to keep on explaining, it’s not as much fun.
Maybe not as bad as what has been mentioned so far:
First date I went on with this woman went really well. She was also extremely gorgeous, so I was nervous but I think I handled things well. Then she invited me to her nephew’s birthday party so we could hang out together.
This made me feel really odd because I knew I would be in front of her entire extended family. I showed up and what’s the first thing I do after I park?
I lock my keys in my car :smack: Her dad had to help me jimmy the door open to get them. I was incredibly embarassed. The rest of the day went fine but afteward she never called me back. The incident made me feel incredibly incompetent.
On our first formal date my husband to be took me out the the Union Oyster House in Boston. We had a lovely dinner, but when it came time to pay, he discovered that he didn’t have enough cash and I hadn’t brought any. So he had to leave me there and take the subway all the way back to Cambridge to get more money. I sat there drinking enough cups of tea to float a battleship, while the waitresses closed the place down around me. I must have looked pretty pitiful, because none of them said anything, and Boston waitresses aren’t known for their reticence.
I don’t know what it is about my family that they think it’s a good idea to set me up with women who live hundreds of miles away. Do they not realize that most people dislike getting to their dates via airplane?
Anyway when visiting family once, my brother set me up with a woman he worked with. I grudgingly agreed, she grudgingly agreed, so I asked her if she wanted to go to a concert. My father, wanting to help out as much as possible, decided to make sure that his car (which I’d borrow) was in tip-top shape. I didn’t know about this at the time.
As I was driving to pick her up, noticed a smell. A dirty, burny smell. An awful, dirty, burny, smoky smell. I had to roll down a window, and this was in December.
I pulled into a service station to see what was wrong. Apparently when my father changed the oil, he forgot to put the cap back on. So I pulled up to this girl’s house – to meet her father, no less – in a car that looked like an ignited Kuwaiti oil field.
My most embarrassing date story also involves poop.
(It’s related in the thread What’s the WORST date you’ve ever had?)
Sure, it’s funny now. 
On my way to pick up a cute high school girl for a date at a drive-in, I stopped to get some gas. Being a poor college student, I couldn’t afford much. I asked the attendant for five dollars worth. He thought I said “fill it.”
Poor girl had to pay for both of us.
In high school I was dating the older brother of a guy I was in school with. He was a very nice guy, fun to be with, and easy on the eyes - but there was zero spark - none - nada - even though I wanted there to be.
So we’ve gone on another date, had a nice time, he’s dropped me off at home, and I’m sitting in our kitchen telling my mom that I didn’t know how to break it off with him. I just didn’t feel comfortable continuing to date him when I suspected he felt much stronger for me than I felt for him.
Then, there was a knock on the kitchen door. There he stood, with my forgotten sweater in his hands and a wounded puppy look on his face. It turns out the window on the door separating the kitchen and the carport was open and he’d heard every word I said to my mom.
I was so mortified that I was dumb struck and meekly took my sweater from him. I never saw him again, but to this day feel horrible about hurting his feelings.
Another time, a little older but still a teen, I went to a fancy smancy restaurant with a guy who was trying to impress me and I him. I had a couple of drinks and needed to run to the ladies room - except I was drunk enough to walk straight into the mens room :eek: After recovering from that, I made my way to the ladies room, took care of business, and walked back to our table … dragging about 3 feet of toilet tissue stuck to my high heel.