A friend recently told me this story, and it is without a doubt the worst first date I’ve ever heard of. (My own worst first dates were just boring.)
My friend works in a lab with a woman named Julie Goldstein. A guy named Mike recently joined a nearby lab, and seemed interested in Julie. (My friend thinks Mike lacks social skills and is annoying, just for reference.) Mike asks out Julie. Julie isn’t thrilled about Mike, but having just broken up with a boyfriend, is at a low spot in life and decides to give Mike a chance.
Now, Mike knows that Julie is very much into cooking, and so offers to cook her dinner at his place. She agrees.
Mike serves Julie what are obviously TV dinners, taken out of the plastic. Julie questions Mike about this. Mike denies that they are in fact frozen dinners, and insists that he prepared them. Repeatedly. (At this point in the story, I was already amazed – who wants credit for frozen cuisine? How could you think someone would not notice?)
Then, after dinner, he shows Julie his Nazi dagger. Bringing out a weapon on the first date is already psycho, but I included Julie’s last name for a reason. She’s Jewish. Very obviously Jewish. Needless to say, that pretty much ended the date. (What was he thinking?!?!)
Pretty bad, eh? Anyone else have good first date horror stories?
Dear lord! I have atrocious social skills, and even I know that it’s bad form to take one’s Nazi dagger out on the first date. (Read that how you like …)
Honestly, I’m not sure what sort of horrid stories our fellow Dopers have, but I think they’ll be hard-pressed to top this one.
Oh, and I would be more than happy to share my own horrid date stories, but unfortunately I’ve never been on a date, horrid or otherwise. grumbles something and saunters off
Ahh, yes. Bad dates. Lex and I have definitely been there, done that!
But pulling out a Nazi dagger on the first date…that’s right up there! Everybody KNOWS it’s proper to wait until at least the 3rd date for that sort of thing!
The year is 1979. I have been separated from my wife of 8 years, my former high-school sweetheart, for about 3 months. I have not been on a date with another woman since 1969.
Meet a nice woman at a C&W club; ask her out and she accepts. Unfortunately, the ex-wife got the car, since she has the kids, so I am without transportation. My date is nice, she understands, and offers to pick ME up, at my apartment. Great!
Date night: She arrives to pick me up, we go out kicker dancing again and have a nice time. Lots of free beer. Time to go home. She says, “You should drive, I’ve had too much to drink.” Honestly, she was a little less sober than I, but not by much.
We get in her car, we are driving home, I wreck her car.
Nobody is hurt, but as I am sitting there in the driver’s seat, with steam coming out of the radiator, and she’s in the passenger seat crying, I am thinking to myself: “Well, you don’t have to worry about dating disasters anymore Sleazey; you’re starting at the bottom. All future dates MUST be better than this.”
I paid for all the damages to her car, so she didn’t have to report it on her insurance. I also never drove after drinking that much again. We went out a couple of more times, but it just never had a chance.
I gave some poor girl the worst date(or maybe not) of her life fo few years ago in college.
There was really cool, incredibly beautiful girl that I had met a few nights before as a friend of a friend thing. All the guys with me had pretty much all agreed that we were totally atracted to her, but she was way out of any of our leagues. A few nights after that we ran into her again at a party, after I had had several drinks. We ended up talking, and hanging out, and had a pretty cool evening, with the two of us sitting on the couch talking about movies, we were both huge buffs. We ended up talking about wanting to see a movie that wasn’t very well known at the time, I think maybe ‘The Madness of King George’. I asked her if she wanted to go see it, and she said okay(remember that I was farily drunk).
Having already decided that she was completely out of my league, I had no question in my mind that we were a couple of friends going to movie together, at least until noon of the day. Another chick that kind of knew both me and the date-chick, stopped by to wait for my roomate and asked where I was going on the date. Up until that point I had no idea that it might be a date, but reviewing the circumstances, I realized that it was entirely possible I had invited her on a date, but not likely. I carefully put on the most middle of the road clothes I had(I didn’t want to look stupid by wearing date-clothes to a just friends, but in case it was a date I didn’t want her to be offended that I was dressed like a slob.)
The next 6 hours of my life involved carefully going over every detail of the conversation to see what she thought the event was going to be. The next three hours involved much of the same thing, plus the added wondering of where the hell she was, and if I had been stood up for I date that I didn’t even know I was making. Finally she comes to the door, me being a little ticked off that I had been blown off. She explains that her brother had been in a car accident, and they had to wait for the police. She unfortunately had middle-of-the-road clothes on as well, giving me no clue what she was expecting of the evening.
In an attempt to shorten this long boring story, my mind was so single-tracked on trying to figure out if I was on a date or not I started to lose the ability of my mind to do anything else like remember where even one fricking restaurant in town was(I drove for about an hour in random directions, and couldn’t think of one restaurant that would work for a date and a just friends evening.) Finally she mentioned that the movie started in 20 minutes, and maybe we should head that way. I agreed and started driving, but couldn’t remeber where the theater I had gone to 25 times was. By the time I found it, my distracted mind had almost run over people at three different occasions, and had gone the wrong way down a one-way street for a block. By the time we got to the theater I was 10 minutes late, and I had actually forgotten my wallet, so she had to pay. Plus there were only single seats left, so we both sat alone about 4 rows apart. I didn’t even notice the movie because I was still trying to figure out if it was a date or not. The movie finished, we went back to my car,which had a nasty gram for parking in the wrong lot, and drove home in awkward silence. I never did figure out if it was a date, or just friends for the evening, but I figured it didn’t matter because I had made such as ass out of myself that she probably wouldn’t go anywhere near me again either way.
In college, one of my housemates had a total downer buddy who used to hang out at our house. The downer had this incredibly mangey, old blind poodle he’d had for about eighteen, nineteen years. It was missing half its fur. It shook uncontrollably and would allow no one but its owner to touch it. He never went anywhere without it. Well, the guy finally got some girl to agree to a date (apparently his first in about ten years). They went to MacDonald’s for dinner and then hit a drive-in movie. During the movie, the girl–not knowing the date was a threesome–reached into the back seat for something and got bitten. The dog’s now going nuts and she’s screaming from fear and shock. Instead of checking her hand or even just comforting her, the guy yells at her for bothering his dog. He reads her the riot act… and then insists on staying to watch the rest of the movie. She sat in the corner, huddled and afraid to move.
And he couldn’t understand, a few days later, why she wouldn’t go out with him again.
