I think I had my worst date ever last night. I don’t want to go into details, because the memory of it is pretty horrible to think about. I figure I’ll laugh about it in a month or two. But the gist of it was, I didin’t know I was getting setup and the guy was the biggest asshole. Our way of thinking was just completely at the opposite end of the spectrum. It was so horrible, I walked home by myself.
Enough about me though, I need to laugh at someone else’s misery to make myself feel better.
Word of advice: Never ask a guy out to make your friends shut up.
I was ready to turn it in before our first date even happened. We agreed to see a movie, and we would meet at the theatre at a certain time (neither of us could drive, my parents drove me and he was going to bike there). Get there a bit early, he’s not there. I wait.
Time we’re supossed to meet, he still isn’t there. Oh well, he’s allowed to be late.
Ten-15 minutes later, he still isn’t there. My parents (both came–think Dad was nervous, it was my first date :rolleyes: ) drove me to his house, which wasn’t that far off from the theatre. Get there, find him–
He forgot :smack:
At this point, I figure I should go home, since it’s showtime, he convinces me to go anyways, and we wouldn’t miss much. Good movie, lousy date.
We broke up eventually, but not for that reason (and we’re still friends). From then on I only ask guys out if I want to. So yeah, not a horrid date, but not a good way to start a relationship
Let’s see, there was the time the girl broke up with her boyfriend, I swept in and made a date, they made up and I got stood up.
The time I thought my friends were trying to set me up, when the girl had actually just come out and my friends were trying to help her be more comfortable around straight guys
And the time I went to pick up my date, and she answered the door while kicking her yappy little dog halfway across the living room. She then spent the entire evening asking me if she was overdressed, because she always wore really nice clothes because her parents had a lot of money.
I picked her up at her parents house and as soon as we pulled away in my car she said “you know you’re not getting laid tonight”, and I circled the block and let her out, with an attitude like that it was going to be an ugly evening.
We had dinner, drinks and a nice time, I was a perfect gentleman, the next morning she “came out” to family and friends (Unclviny turns 'em Gay faster than anyone).
I went out for coffee during a lunch break with a cute guy from work. We were chatting about school, and eventually the topic switched to our childhoods. He told me how he used to love crashing down his front stairs in his BigWheel car as a kid. Which resulted in lots of head injuries. Apparently, in his world, this is a point of great personal pride.
“And I got so many concussions that they had to put a tube in my head for when my brain would swell up the next time! It goes down through my neck! Want to feel, it’s right here…”
This is why dating scares me.
You know it’s a bad date when the guy you’re with turns to you and says, “May I ask you a personal question?” and when you say “yes,” though you may choose not to answer, and then he asks you for advice on how to cheat his ex-wife out of money.
First last and ONLY blind date I ever went on, arranged by my parents with the son of a business associate of my dads.
He picked me up, despite me telling everybody involved that I wanted to drive myself and I would meet him wherever. To shut my dad up, I agreed to let that asshat drive. We went to a bar in Rochester NY that he heard was trendy, and luckily for me the band playing that night was friends of mine [an ex boyfriend had been their sound man] because just before they were going to break we went outside so I could cool off [summer, was hot in the bar] and he could get a cigarette. It ended up with me backed into a corner of the building with him trying to rape me. Luckily, the drummer and bassist just popped out for a quick joint, saw what was happening and pounded him until he decided that leaving me there and scramming was the wisest choice. I hung with my friends after they loaned me some clothing as my clothing was torn to pieces and they drove me home via his house, where I went in and informed daddy dearest that he wsa going to be paying me for the ruined clothing.
I love my father dearly, 500 milles away. If I spend too much time with my father, patricide seems very logical after about 3 days.
I met this girl once. I went to Super cuts for a cheap haircut. got to chatting with the lady who was cutting my hair. We decided to meet later on that night at a local bar for a few drinks.
We did. We had a seemingly good time. Then she sugests we go to one of her friends house to hang out for a while.
We get there; everybody there seems friendly enough untill some one bust out with some Herion or cocaign. (I’m not sure which.) And before I know it I’m in a house full of people shooting up. (needle drugs… yuck!!)
As soon as I see whats going on I tell the girl (politely) “Hey this really isn’t my thiing. I think I’m just gonna take off.”
To which she responded with “OH come on, stay and hang out with me. You don’t have to do any”
“Uh, no thanks bye”
She then started to break down and cry. I ignored her and left anyway.
I had ONE date with this girl and she kept calling me for weeks afterwords trying to hook up again. :rolleyes:
I once showed up for a date with a woman and she brought her sister and friends along. I paid for the dinner, but then left while she was on the dance floor with her sister.
I was around 16, and it was a double date. I’d never been out with the guy before, but he was good friends with my cousin and I’d talked to him on the phone a few times and seemed like a good person. We were going to dinner and then to the local amusement park. The last time I had been to that particular amusement park, I’d gotten motion sick and spent half the night in the restroom, so this time my mom bought me a pack of Dramamine. While we were at dinner, I pulled it out to take one, and someone at the table had the bright idea that I should take two, “just in case”. Like a fool, I did (hey, I didn’t know that drowsiness was a side effect). By the time we got to the park, I was nearly comatose. I stumbled around for an hour or so, falling asleep on benches while they road the rides, until I couldn’t take it any more. I asked if we could go home, everyone agreed, and I passed out as soon as I got in the car. Well, I woke up when we were almost home, to find that my dream date had his hands down my shirt, copping a cheap feel.
I still haven’t decided who was a worse date, him or me.
I got set up with the mother of one of my students, once. She weighed something in the vicinity of 300lbs. and I’m not into BBW. We went to a restaurant and she ordered gargantuan amounts of food which she washed down with enough beer to get tipsy and libidinous. I drove straight back to her place from dinner and had to practically dynamite her ass out my car. She was bound and determined that I should either come in or she could accompany me back to my place. It was only after I grew cross and testy that she grasped there would be no bumping uglies.
When I was in college, my roomie’s gf convinced me to take her roomie out. I picked her up and literally the first words out of her mouth were “You realize, of course, that I don’t put out.” I took her to dinner anyway and she spent the whole evening preaching the love of Jesus to me. Note: I did not kill either my roomie or his gf, though no jury in the land would have convicted me for doing so.
Once this guy took me to a movie and did nothing but complain about his sinuses (with sound effects) and the parking situation in the area where the movie theater was. The movie was Natural Born Killers, which is NOT a date movie! He talked in a normal conversational tone during the movie, but not about anything interesting. He drove me home in such silence that I would have had a more interesting conversation in a cab. It was like getting a ride home from the movies, not a date!
Our ninth anniversary was in October.
One time I hooked up with my ex. She told me she could get us into the Berkley for free because she did a favor for the manager. We got in and got to a table. I think, THIS IS GREAT! I go to get us drinks. There’s a guy going around selling the Sunday paper. I think, “Who in the hell is going to buy the Sunday paper in a nightclub on Saturday Night?”
Guess who did.
She had the paper sprawled out all over the table. She said something like “Why, they moved Cathy to a different section” as she looked at the comics. I tried to talk about something, but she was off on another planet. I said “Well, I’m going to check out the band,” and that was the last we saw of each other that night.
Geez. I hear these stories, and am suddenly glad that I mostly lack for social life.
Of the three dates I’ve ever been on, I think the first one was the only one I’d call less than good, and it was just sort of … meh. It was a sort of parents-arranged-introduction situation.
Of course, there was the time I asked a gal out, got a polite, kind and friendly refusal, and then she avoided me and my friends for six months, which was a little disturbing…
I went out with a guy whose idea of a good time was running over turtles on the road. Walked home on that one.
I also went out with a guy who turned out to be a girl. Not so much bad as shocking.
I’m sure there are more…
The blind date with a seminary student who was asking a bunch of personal questions about my finances…seemed like he was sizing me up to see if I could support him through seminary. :wally
On Thursday nights, I’d meet my friends for dance lessons early at a local bar and we’d be out of there before 10, but this night another friend was buying drinks for everyone and next thing I knew it was 12 and my friends had gone and I was alone and decided to sit awhile before driving home. A young man I recognized as a local came over, asked to sit and said he’d been watching me for months but I always had friends around, he could see I rarely drank, did I need help getting home? He bought me sodas and we talked and he followed me home and we talked in the parking lot of my apt. building and he asked for a dinner date and gave me the tiniest little kiss and I gave him my phone number.
On Sat night, he arrives at my door dressed to kill and I walk back down the hall to get my purse. Next thing I know* I’m on the floor* on my back and he’s telling me how hot I look, looking down at me and I ask him calmly to let me up and he does, then unzips his pants and pushes them to the floor. Meanwhile, I run out the door. I can see him in my living room, I can hear him calling me, oh, baby, you’re so hot, look what you do to me, I’m yelling at him, get your pants back on and get out of my apt! He’s laughing, dresses, comes out and asks if I’m ready to go to dinner! I go home and lock the door. I spend the next two years hanging up on him.
When I was 16 I went on a date with a friend of a friend who I thought was cute & nice. We met up, got something to eat & he drove me home.
He had to have me home by 8:30 because he had to be in my 9, since he had a junior operator’s license. On the way home he revealed that he was turning 17 the next week and that he could then keep the car out past 9. He asked if I wanted to go to a movie & I said yes.
Well, we drove up to the not-very-nice apartment building I lived in. (my family was pretty poor at that point). I figured my date wasn’t poor. We didn’t go to the same school, so I wasn’t sure, but he was driving his dad’s very new Volvo.
When I had him pull over to let me out, he pointed at the building and said “That’s where you live?!” in a slightly horrified voice. I said yes really fast & hopped out of the car & fled, feeling very Molly Ringwald in “Pretty in Pink.”
When he called a couple of days later to find out when to pick me up on his birthday, I told him I didn’t think it would work out, and then never talked to him again.
I feel a little bad about not giving him a chance to redeem himself after an incident he probably didn’t realize was hurtful to me, but hey, I was 16. What do you expect?
When I was 18, I had a date with a girl. Being more-or-less broke, this was going to be a “cheap date” (which is better than no date). I borrowed a car from a friend (who warned me not to take it out of Brooklyn, further limiting the choices of where to go).
Well, comes the big night and it’s raining. I don’t just mean a small downpour, I mean buckets and buckets. The original plan had been to go bowling (hey, we were teenagers!) and out to eat. Well, one bowling alley after another had no free lanes. Some had league bowling, others simply had hours-long waiting. Well, we decided to try a movie next, but there was really nothing that either of us wanted to see.
Finally, we pulled into a local pizza shop and went in. As it turns out, there were several of her classmates, ready to “cheer” us when we walked in.
In the end, I suppose, I can’t complain. We’ve been married now for thirteen years.
Oooh, I have a good (?) one.
I met this guy through Yahoo and we hit it off GREAT via email and phone. We made arrangements to meet and walk to a supposedly nearby park. He said he’d bring lunch for us. He told me it wasn’t more than 1/4-1/2 mile from where we were meeting. It was summer and I wore pants, shirt, and loafers. Not heels, not fancy shoes - just plain leather loafers. Something suitable for walking 1/4-1/2 mile - not suitable for hiking.
So we meet and proceed to walk to this park. And we walk and walk and walk. And walk some more. We walked for well over an hour. By the time we get there my feet are killing me. If I had known I was going to be doing a triathlon practice, I would have worn Nikes. Okay, so he seriously underestimated the distance. We’re having a good conversation so I let it go. Then he brings out the “lunch.” It consisted of ONE bagel with a layer of cream cheese so thin it was almost transparent and ONE pear. For us to share. And a bottle of tap water. No cup.
I can let a lot go but not that. So eventually we have to start the long trek back. I am desperately looking for a cab I can flag down. My feet are bleeding by this point, with huge peeling blisters, but if we stop the pain only triples once I start walking again so I force myself not to stop and rest. Then he gets lost so we end up walking even farther back. I mention several times that I’d love a cup of coffee but he doesn’t say, “Oh sure, let’s find a place” or anything else. When my bleeding feet finally make it back to my car, he can tell he’s never ever going to see me again.
The next week, I drove back over the route he claimed was 1/4-1/2 mile. It was 4.2 miles over and 4.5 back.