Bad dates. We’ve all had ’em. Some of us have had more than others. I’m gonna go ahead and say I’ve had a moderate amount of them. I figure I’ve been dating since I was 15 so that’s 11 years of dates. Barring the 2 serious relationships I’ve been in…which brings me down to 13 years of dates. I’ve been on a few fairy tale dates here and there, but those don’t tend to stick out as much as the bad. So I decided to fill you in on the disaster dates I’ve been on through the years. I don’t think I can come up with ten, so I’ll write about the few I can recall. All the names have been changed to protect the identities of the poor saps who think taking me out is going to be a good idea. Or have they?
Ephriam. In the short amount of time I agreed to resort to online dating I met E. E went to college near me, appreciated all the things I did – sports, music, food, wine – and was tall and successful and Jewish. He was great on paper. He took me to a popular, albeit tacky, restaurant chain where he paid for dinner and one or two (or for me…six) drinks. The actual date was just fine. I mean, we had terrible conversation, but it wasn’t the worst date ever. Then he walked me to my car which is plenty nice, but he chose to use that opportunity to molest my face. He pushed me up against my car door and made me make-out with him until I forced my way up for air. At which point he decided to proposition me to come home with him. This isn’t snatch.com buddy. I’m all about meeting up and seeing where things might go, but I am not your unlimited candy bowl. Thanks but no thanks.
Jesus. It’s pronounced like the lord and savior (yours, not mine) not Hey-Soos. J$ and I met in youth group back in high school. He was cute and all, but he was skinny and lanky. I guess I have a type now based on that guy. Whatever. I picked him up at his parents house – because we were in high school – and we went to a local deli-restaurant. We basically ate without talking. I suggested we go to the mall afterward, but he chose this secluded park. We hung out and barely talked. When I started yawning I offered to take him home. We drove home in relative silence and then I dropped him off…no kiss, hug or anything. I actually never heard from him again. I must have been pretty fucking boring. This may be better explained by the fact that in high school I was known as the quiet girl. Seriously.
Xander. Xander went to high school with me but I didn’t really know him until I had summer school with him. I was taking extra classes and he was fixing an ‘F’. Also, he was a 3rd year senior. Needless to say my parents weren’t thrilled. We never really went on any legitimate dates. Not that we banged it out, but we basically sat in a car, or at a park, or in a living room making out. To the point that my dad once caught us making out in his car in my driveway. It was a little embarrassing, but I figure he’d better learn early and it’s not like he didn’t catch my sister doing that or more at some point – sometimes it pays to be the youngest. The reason he was bad was because he got clingy and started calling my personal line at home whenever he felt like it. Including at 11:00pm on a Friday night when I was in bed. My mom decided she had had enough, answered the phone and tore him a new asshole. This was both embarrassing and amusing as hell. Moving on.
Hank. Hank (or Henry, as he preferred to be called – I refused) met me at one of my odd jobs along the years. He was a moderately attractive man who was easily 10 years older than me. Those of you who have talked to me about men recently know I have a thing for older guys. What I do not have a thing for is an older guy with kids. Kids are a turn off for me because I want them, but I want my own. Only. It’s fairly closed minded, I know, but it’s how I feel. So we go out to dinner. I freaking pulled teeth to talk to this guy. NOTHING. I couldn’t get him into a conversation. Example: Me- So what do you do when you’re not working. Him- fish. Me- Oh. I’m not big on fishing…fish creep me out. I like eating fish. I’ll absolutely let a guy catch and cook me fish while I sit on the boat and tan. Him- Ok. YEAH. That’s basically it. We went to a movie where he constantly brought up how attractive older guys in the movie were and that he wasn’t so old. He dropped the kid bomb at dinner which kinda shut me down. After the fact he texted me to tell me all about the things he meant to do or say but didn’t – like open the car door, pull out my chair, hold my hand, kiss me, walk me to my door, etc. The next day he texted me to tell me we were better off being just friends. Then he told me about his basically adult child. To this day he keeps texting me to ask me out again. Give it a rest, dude.
Marco. Marco worked with me at my first job out of college. He was weird and squirrely, but he asked me out to this lavish club with his friends in the city. I was itching for a night of fauxailite status, so I agreed. We went and met his friends, took a terrible trip on the train with people who had no idea where we were going, and I got annoyed quite quickly. We finally went to the club, had bottle service and I enjoyed the shit out of being in a VIP area with such nicely dressed, however shallow and rude, people. At the end of the night I was hammered and he offered to let me sleep on his couch, which I did. We made out for about 5 seconds and I passed out. The next morning he drove me home. He walked me to my door and I said “Ok. Bye. See you later.” Apparently I didn’t meet his criteria for thanking him for a good time and for inviting me. That was enough for him to stop speaking to me, ignore me at work and make every attempt to make my job as difficult as possible. I actually learned something important: say thank you even if you had a shitty time for most of the night. I also learned to not date the short squirrely guy at work.
Geoff. Or, as I like to call him, the wedding date from hell. Some time ago a school friend of mine got married. Since I had recently become single again, she allowed me to make a last minute change to my plus one. I brought Geoff. He was a good friend and typically a lot of fun. We’d known each other for years and actually knew a lot of my friends who would also be at the girls wedding. He wasn’t quite that fun. He got VERY drunk. He didn’t sit at the dinner table once and made a fool of himself on the dance floor – which actually was quite nice because it made room for me to be the dancing hero I always assume I am. I hope everyone enjoyed my break dancing giraffe impression. Later, after the wedding, he accidentally locked himself out on the hotel balcony puking into a bush (or rather over a bush and onto the balcony below) and intermittently knocking on the door in an attempt to wake me up and let him back in. I heard him; I just ignored him. Don’t even act like I didn’t open the balcony sliding door once he passed out with a pillow and a blanket and made it look like he chose to sleep out there. I’m a bitch.
Deidrich. D (the other half to my double D for this story only) was the brother of a girl I knew in school. Her much older brother. In a sober blackout I apparently decided to tell him I was 19 when I was only 17. This isn’t a real problem – especially not in Illinois when the guy is 21 – but it was a lie. Keep in mind I was still a virgin and had no intention of changing that with ‘rich, but I was interested in making out. Well one night I invited him to a house party of people I wasn’t really friends with, and my best friend in the whole world: Allie. I had my older man buy us booze, because I was damn sure getting something out of the deal. He showed up and then eventually drove Allie and I home. When we got there he dropped Allie off and proceeded with the mouth assault. I gave him a handy which was going fine until he dropped the worst line on earth: “I want you to taste me.” I promptly thanked him for a fun night (which I learned from Marco, if you recall) and then bolted out of the car. Smoke trail following style bolted. Oh yeah, I also told him to stop taking advantage of 17 year old girls…to which he threw something out the window at me and called me a lying bitch. That part is, obviously, still true.
I can’t think of anyone else that I should tell you about. Not that I’m hiding any stories…I just can’t think of anything else. I would like to show you what it looks like when I blog. I rarely get to blog all alone…Gizmo likes to help.