I disagree. It would have been a fantastic date. A rough rest of my life, to be sure, but a fantastic date.
Don’t I wish. At least then I could have entertained myself by spilling toothpicks on the floor for him to count, and otherwise checking out his savant abilities. This guy wasn’t an idiot savant, he was just an idiot. Okay, that’s not fair; he wasn’t an idiot, just boring. Reeeeeaaallly boring. “Someone kick this fork into my forehead and put me out of my misery” boring.
Jesus, I didn’t think you were hating it that much. Next time I’ll tell you about my collection of matchbox cars instead.
Well, in comparison to some of these scary, scary tales, mine pales in comparison.
Second date, he came round to my place. I made a yummy homemade pizza, of which he proceded to eat three quarters as though he was in a pizza eating race. We watched a stupid movie (his choice) and drank some wine. We hardly spoke, it was just completely awkward and uncomfortable. He mentioned his elite all-boys high school a few too many times, specially given that he’d graduated from there about 15 years ago.
Then, as I shuffled him out the door, he asked if he could kiss me. He ASKED.
I saw him again, just once – he took me to see Romeo and Juliet… at the aforementioned elite boys school.
After each of these very unsatisfactory encounters, he would write effusive emails, telling me how much he enjoyed my company, how beautiful I was, blah blah blah - but in person, he was completely indifferent and awkward.
It doesn’t sound so bad, I know, but the complete lack of click was completely obvious to me, and completely lost on him. Ugh!
I don’t date much but the worst ever was a blind/double date with a friend and his girlfriend. The girl I was set up with was the g-friends best pal. The date was really just going to a bar to see a band. The lady I was set up with was unattractive (by my tastes, anyway), had kids and a life that I had no interest in, spoke very little and chain smoked like a maniac. I don’t rule out smokers but this gal was over the limit. She didn’t seem too interested in me either so I just shot the shit with my friend and enjoyed the band. About 1:00 AM I was a little buzzed and very tired so I got up to leave and all of a sudden this chick is really into me. It turned into an uncomfortable situation as I explained repeatedly that I was in fact really leaving, yes right now, no not just one more, no not going somewhere else. Then over the next couple weeks my friend called a few times to try to set up another double date. I could tell he understood why I was totally not interested but his girlfriend was pushing him (at gun point apparently). Pretty tame compared to some of the other stories here but that’s my worst.
Heh RH sounds kind of similar to my blind/double date.
My male friend (of the other couple) apparently never bothered to tell her that I dislike makeup
on a woman-a little bit here and there is okay, but better not overdo it. We showed up at her
house, and it was literally caked on with a trowel. I spent most of the evening trying to
avoid her passes in the back seat as we went to the movie theatre and back. She was prob.
kind of cute underneath all that plaster, but the coming on too strong thing was the clincher.
Leaving aside the time I almost got the shit beat out of me…
…there was the time I cruised this guy online and went to his house. He was really gorgeous and had a tongue pierce I really wanted to get to know better. But I made the mistake of having a conversation with him beforehand.
He was an indépendantiste. Not a sovereignist - sovereignists are just everyday people - but a hard-core, ethnic nationalist, le Québec aux Québécois pure laine tissée tricotée, everyone else get out, INDÉPENDANTISTE.
And I was sitting there saying to myself, “Hello, you’re GERMAN! You are a first generation German immigrant, who was born in Germany and immigrated here! Do you have a Master’s in Cognitive Dissonance, or what?”
Anyway, he had lots of other, um, interesting political opinions, and he was just so obnoxious about everything – let’s just say it ended badly.
My worst date ever doesn’t really have a story attached; it was just an excruciatingly awful time with someone socially inept, whom I’d driven two hours to meet.
My worst second date ever, though…
The first date was OK, I picked him up from the airport (it was the only night that week I was free), and then we played pool and got pizza. The next week, I met him at an Italian restaurant, the conversation’s going pretty nicely, we’re talking about our families, his grad school plans, my PhD program in cell biology, my future career aspirations (and mind you, he knew about my graduate studies before we ever spoke, as he’d told my cousin he wanted to marry a woman with a career), when he looks at me in disbelief. “You mean, you’d leave your children with Christina the maid?!?” I was not planning on taking off a decade or so from my career while my children were small? I was so stunned by this ten-word double-blast of racism and sexism that I couldn’t come back with a snappy reply, although I’ve spent the several years since composing them. (They divide between the “I’m sure my husband will be eager to be a stay-at home dad” category, and the “Yes, she’s really quite wonderful with children” group.) I even managed not to say anything sarcastic when my fiance and I ran into him and his wife in San Diego this past summer, although I did make sure to inquire sweetly as to her profession (she’s a graphic designer, code in the Orthodox Jewish world for “I want to be a full-time mom, but need a job until I get married and have kids.”)
I probably created the worst date for a guy I had a blind date with, by…
Bursting into tears the moment I saw him. :o
We had been talking on the phone for a week, and didn’t have much incommon, but I was desperate to get my mind off a recent break-up, (not recommended).
Then we met and I realized he had lied about the way he looked, (not bad, just not my type). It was a bit too much for me emotionally. He was so upset about disappointing me, that he started crying too. 
There was also the guy who was involved in an ugly custody battle, who wanted me to help him kidnap his daughter and care for her while he was at work. This was on our FIRST DATE!!!
I met him at the mall, outside of See’s Candy, a favorable sign, and fell into conversation and he asked if I’d like to have a drink with him and Red Robin was right there, so we passed a pleasant hour or so drinking soda and eating fries and he asked for my phone number. That weekend I met him for an action movie, my choice, and after he walked me to my car saying “What now?” I suggested coffee, he declined. I said dancing, he said he didn’t dance (bad sign). He suggested renting a video and going back to his place. I said I wasn’t yet comfortable going to his place but we could go somewhere and talk some more.
He exploded.
Did I think he was a cash cow, an ATM machine? Why did we girls always want a man to spend moneymoneymoney on them all the time?!
“You want your 20 bucks back?” I asked as I unlocked my car and got in and locked my doors. “I was going to KISS you!” he yells. I can hear him through my rolled-up window.
Soda and fires at Red Robin: 10 dollars
Early movie, no popcorn: 10 dollars
Getting screamed at on the street during first date but never hearing from him again: Priceless
This wasn’t any fun at the time. In retrospect it’s kinda fun to talk about.
After a string of tremendously poor boyfriends, I decided I needed to go out with a guy with a little money. Now, I’m generally not one of those girls that expects boys to pay for everything and I certainly wasn’t then, but I was just tired of being the sugar momma in the relationship.
Lucky for me, the son of a very profitable (we’re talking a hundreds of millions of dollars) local business took some interest in me. He was attractive, smart, and in the military (y’all know how I feel about that!). He asked me to a movie and I was excited to finally not have to pay the entire way. To top it off, I (quite falsely) assumed that because he came from some money, he might have better manners in general.
Oh man was I wrong.
He was supposed to pick me up at 9, but instead called me at 9 to tell me to meet him there. No biggie. I get there and there he is waiting for me. He bought the tickets (one plus, I suppose) and we headed in. He stopped at the counter and ordered himself candy, popcorn, and a soda. He didn’t ask if I wanted anything. Now, I didn’t want anything because I had just been out to dinner with friends, but it’s the principal of the matter.
We headed into the theater, sat down, and he lifted up the armrest between us. “Oh great,” thought I, “He’s going to try to grab me or something.” Yeah. Not really. He actually didn’t touch me once.
So we’re sitting there and the previews start. After one particularly bad preview, I lean over to him and quietly whisper, “Wow, that looks awful.” He glares at me and whispers quite loudly, “ANGEL! SHHHHHHHHHHHHH.” I just sort of stared at him.
Later during the movie, I was sitting there FREEZING (I was shaking in my little slutty heels) while he was quite comfortable in his sweater and jacket. Mid shiver, my foot slipped and I kicked the chair in front of me. The girl turned around startled, I leaned down, and I whispered, “I’m so sorry- my shoes are new and–” That’s where she cut me off, laughed, and said she understands. I turn around and I’m getting the glare of friggin DEATH from my date.
After the movie (it was V for Vendetta) he was going on and on about how he understands all the deep philosophy of it all. He was flat out wrong about some of the things he said, so I corrected him. He insisted he was right (I double checked when I got home, he was wrong). I dropped it.
At this point it is almost one in the morning. There are two cars in the parking lot mine and one lowrider full of scary men playing loud rap music and looking me up and down (date parked in a lot on the complete other side of the building). Date walked me outside the theater and left. He didn’t even walk me to my car through the dark parking lot at one in the morning. Bah.
Of course, none of this is nearly as bad as what some of you went through, so I really ought to be happy.
I met a guy while window shopping. Based on his accent, he was an immigrant, probably from India or Pakistan. We chatted a little and exchanged phone numbers. About a week later, we met at a small bar. After about an hour and 1 drink we picked a place for dinner. I wasn’t ready to be dependant on this guy for a ride, so I started making plans to drive over seperately. All of a sudden he was railing at me about how I didn’t trust him. (Yep, I just met you.) If he had been the boy next door I would have been riding to the restaurant with him. (Duh, I know the boy next door.) So I grab my purse, tell him I’m leaving and walk out to my car. Apparently his car was closer, because he drove up next to me, rolled down the window and is still screaming, only now I owe him, because he paid for that rum and coke. I threw a $5 in the car window and kept walking. Next thing I know, I hear his car door slam, he runs around the car, hits me, gets back in his car and drives away. He tried calling several times over the next weeks, but I wasn’t talking to him.
Later that summer, I was watching the TV news, and there is a picture of him. It seems he had been arrested on charges of hitting another woman. I called the court house to try and find out trial time info, and the clerk’s response when I gave his name was “Oh, him.” Seems I wasn’t the only one that had called for that info.
Madrid, spring 1988. Against my better judgement, I agreed to meet a highly annoying guy I met in a bar the following evening. I fully intended to stand him up (something I’ve never done before or since, but he was really annoying and wouldn’t leave me alone, and it was 4 a.m. and I wanted to go home). I arrived more than 2 hours late at the appointed place (in front of the place I was living - not a smooth move, but hey, cut me some slack - I was 19 years old and really hadn’t done any traditional “dating” to speak of). He was still there, waiting for me.
So like an idiot, I agreed to go out with him. He kept taking me to different bars all over Madrid, and buying me beers, even after I told him that I hate beer (which is still true). So then he would drink his beer AND mine. Things degenerated from there - we started talking politics, and when he figured out he was not getting laid that night, at least not by me, he told me that for as liberal as I said I was, I might as well be Ronald Reagan. The evening ended up with him pinning me against a wall, unzipping his fly, and jerking off all over my stomach. That was when I told him that I felt safer alone on the street in an unfamiliar part of a huge city at 4 a.m. than with him, and walked out.
Yes, the schmuck had the nerve to call me again. Blech. I’ve never been so repulsed on a date in my life, not even with Aromatic Boy. Funny how physical assault isn’t a turn-on for most women.
I started talking with this really nice Australian girl on the telephone. I honestly can’t remember how we started talking but I think it was work related. We spent hours gabbing about this and that and got along really well. She told me she was short, in good shape, and liked to hit the town every now and then for a beer.
Wow. I’m into short girls with sexy Australian accents who like to drink beer. I asked her for a date.
I think I met her evil sister.
She showed up and yes, she was short. Most of her was in good shape excpet her ass. IT WAS FUCKING HUGE! Like freakishly huge. This giant elephant ass glued to the body of a trim young lady.
Normally something like this wouldn’t bother me. I mean, at this point we were just friends meeting for a drink. What do I care if she has a Honda Civic for an ass? (of course a part of me was hoping for something that would fit in my bed)
But the worse part was she was a total bitch in real life. She was mean to the bartender, nasty to me, and generally had a bad attitude.
On top of that, she didn’t want a beer.
At one point she stated “this isn’t going to work out” and left.
She must have seen me drive up in my MG Midget. 
Aaaah, one of those plus Papiste que le Pape immigrants! Aren’t they wuvly? (Once you’re looking at them through a bullet-proof glass window and they’re the ones enclosed)
Mine isn’t exactly on a date, but it’s date related.
In high school, I used to go to an afternoon dance every Saturday and Sunday with some girlfriends. Most of them were “pants-hooked”, the kind of girl who introduces herself as “XYZ’s girlfriend” even though she’s actually started dating him half an hour ago, who changes boyfriends every weekend (my idea of boyfriend has to last a tad more) and who is completely depressed if, on a given week, she doesn’t have a boyfriend. The reason I went with these particular girls is that my regular friends were out of town in the weekend.
There was a time when through some mysterious alignment of the planets one of them lasted through more than a week with Mr. Current. Yep, she started dating him on a Sunday, didn’t see him all week and, incredibly, did not break up with him next Saturday. Wow. Several of the other girls hook up with guys from his group of friends. One of them likes me but… the acne, I could have survived. The ugly, hey, nobody picks his genes. But I’m sorry, I know idiocy is at least partly genetic but I’d like to be able to have a conversation that does not consist of dead-lamb looks and/or the latest soccer results. Dude wasn’t even a two-sports guy 
After I refuse to dance with him twice on Sunday (there were two “paired-up” dances every afternoon), twice the next Saturday, then twice more, my “friends” spend a whole week badgering me to go out with him. The only reason they can give me to do this is that “he’s our boyfriends’ friend!” I mean, they even mentioned that he was buttfugly and real dumb… I asked “well, if I have to date one guy from that group, can I at least pick one of the 15 or so that are free and not dumber than an exploded tire? Ah no it’s got to be that one? Sorry, not interested!”
So, Saturday rolls back in. And I refuse to dance with him. So for the second “paired up”, all 21 of them line up in front of me and start asking me to dance :smack: I stood up, gave them a collective finger with a great white light shining on me (the DJ had noticed the line up) and sat back down.
Helen. Beautiful Helen. The best looking girl in the school, a fact that was generally accepted amongst the entire population of 2,000 pupils. I had been amazingly lucky to have kissed her at a party - a proper tongue kiss - even though I was wearing disgusting braces at the time. I was over the moon.
One dark and freezing night soon after, I called her up and asked her out to the cinema. She agreed. I walked two miles to the bus across the snowy fields, having just washed my hair. It froze on the way, which should have been a sign. When I got to her house, very nervous, she met me at the door. With her ten-year-old brother in tow. Whom she sat between us in the cinema. That was the last time I tried anything romantic with her, so her evil plan succeeded.
Still, the one positive of that night was that on my way to her house, I had walked past a fountain in the forecourt of a 300-year-old building, the caretakers of which had chipped ice off the water spouts regularly, allowing thousands upon thousands of icicles to form in a vast and thoroughly beautiful display of nature at work. It is an image that has stayed in my memory, while Helen’s features have faded.
Hmmm, was it the first one I ever had, where I couldn’t say one thing to the poor girl at all? Or the other with my current g/f, where she invited me to join her in bed to keep her warm by text, but I was already soundly asleep on the sofa :rolleyes:
Only the first makes me cringe in any way, so I’ll nominate that 
LOL. Wow, I gotta say that if someone cried just by looking at me, I’d probably be a little bummed… Oh well, hopefully he got over it.
That’s magnificent. I’m taking it for my very own.