Story Sent in by James:

At the restaurant dinner table, Aretha took out one of those daily pill boxes, the ones with the sections for pills based on day of the week. Each section was filled to capacity with different-colored tablets and pills. She opened up the Sunday section even though it wasn't Sunday (it was Thursday) and consumed all of the pills like M&Ms. Then she moved on to the Monday box and downed all the pills in that section, too. She then put the pill box away, caught me staring, and asked, "What?"

"Nothing," I said, then asked her about her athletic records. She apparently held a few, at least at the high school/college level.

She said, "No, you'd rather talk about my pills. Go on. Ask away."

I replied, "I really don't care about your pills. As long as they keep you healthy."

"Sane, you mean. You think I'm insane and that's why I need pills."

"No."

"You're wrong! I need pills because... I'm a runner. They're special athletic athlete pills," I believe was the exact quote.

It dawned on me that she could've taken her pills before we were out together, or even excused herself to take them in the restroom. The fact that she took them at the table in full view meant that she must've wanted me to see her do it. Why? I couldn't guess. Still can't. The rest of the date was about the same. She kept on bringing the conversation back to her pills. I didn't press the issue at all, but she really wanted me to ask her about them for some reason. I didn't give her the pleasure.

Story Sent in by Kim

Way, way back in high school, one of the class weirdos, Chris, took an interest in me. He was so awkward but I wanted to give him a chance. He asked to pick me up at my house for a date one Friday night.

He came to the door in a wrinkled dress shirt, tie, and pants, each several sizes larger than he was, himself. He spread his arms and said, "Baby!"

I said, "Uh... come in. Wait on the couch."

He sauntered in and splayed out on the couch. I left him there for a few seconds to use the bathroom.

When I returned, he was standing on the couch and jamming on an air guitar with his junk flopping out of his fly.

I screamed. He stopped playing air guitar and said, "Kim. Look." He pointed at his groin.

"Put it away you weirdo!"

He tucked it back in and zipped up his giant pants. He said, "Done dumping? Let's go."

I didn't go anywhere with him, but I did show him the door.

Story Sent in by Charles:

It was my first date with Mae and we were out to lunch. When our sodas arrived, before I had a chance to drink mine, she reached across the table, grabbed my glass, and blew air through my straw, making the soda bubble like a cauldron. Her eyes bugged out crazy wide, like she was a mad scientist.

She was at it for a good 30 seconds before she finally stopped and handed my soda back to me. I was grossed out and I slid the soda back toward her. "You can keep it."

"Score!" she said, then put both of the sodas next to each other and drank out of both straws at once. She then carried on a conversation with me like nothing weird had taken place.

When our food arrived, she brought her fork within an inch of my salad and asked, "Can I have a bite?"

I slid my salad away. "No. You've already taken my soda. Eat your own food."

"Classy," she said.

"You're one to talk, double-soda-girl."

"Whatever," she said.

When the bill came, she put down enough money to cover her food and only one of the sodas. I told her, "You're paying for both sodas."

"Why?"

"Because you drank both sodas."

She gave me an angry look. "Fine." She threw down the money for the second drink.

We didn't go out again.

Story Sent in by Amber:

David and I talked online for a few weeks. He was a dentist in a group practice and he liked to brag. Aside from that, he was a nice guy and we went out for coffee once with no issues.

We had scheduled up a second date for a Saturday. That Friday before, though, he showed up at my house in the evening, unannounced. When I answered his knocks at the door I asked him, "What are you doing here?"

He was in an undershirt and jeans, rolled up nearly to his upper thighs. He was sweaty and wore a filthy, loose headband. He said, "My dental skills need practice. If I knocked your teeth out, would you let me put them back into your head backwards?"

I closed the door on him and locked it immediately. He shouted through the door, "What about for a shirtless pic? Of you."

I was about five seconds away from calling the police when he took off, jogging away. Needless to say, there was no second date or further correspondence.

Story Sent in by Grant:

A bar with an extensive wine list was the setting of my first date with Cyndi. She was an wine enthusiast. I had confessed to her in an email that I didn't know much about wines, but she had never addressed that.

At the bar, she ordered some type of red wine and I ordered another kind that I picked at random. She gave me a funny look and asked, "You're ordering the [whatever-I-ordered]? Really?"

I said, "Why, is this a bad year for it?"

She said, "Every year is a bad year for sewage."

I asked her, "Maybe you can recommend one for me."

She laughed and asked, "Are you serious? You're a guy. Aren't you supposed to have a pre-programmed list of good beers and wines in your brain?"

"I don't know. As a woman, do you know the precise differences between Godiva and Teuscher chocolates?"

She said, "Yes! Ha!"

"And they are?"

She laughed, but a bit more uncomfortably this time. "I don't have to tell you. Don't turn this around on me." She pointed to a wine on the list and said, "Order a glass of that one."

Maybe she was making peace. It was a sensibly priced red. I ordered a glass and drank it. It tasted fine.

She cackled and said, "Ha! It's a bad year for that one! A bad year for that one!" She sang it in a "na-na-na-na-na" tune, like in my old grade school days.

I shrugged, finished the wine (despite her incredulous stare), put enough money down on the bar to cover myself, said, "Have a nice life," and left her there without another word. If good wines are more important to her than good company, I hope she has a very fulfilling life.