10/18/2017

Don't Fret

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Story Sent in by Doug:

Aimee had profile photos of herself playing the guitar. Through conversation with her, I learned that she had been playing since she was very young and she practiced every day. I told her that I'd love to hear her play sometime and she told me that she'd play for me on our first date.

We met up in a public park. I immediately noticed that she didn't have a guitar with her but I figured that if she had brought one, it was probably in her nearby car or whatever. After we exchanged pleasantries she asked me, "Did you bring the guitar?"

I don't own a guitar. Therefore I had never agreed to bring one. I told her, "I don't own a guitar. Do you have yours handy?"

She said, "You didn't bring it? Seriously?"

"How can I bring what I don't own?"

She laughed and shook her head like I was a total idiot. She said, "Then I guess I'm not playing for you."

I remarked, "Okay. Maybe next time."

She said, "You don't understand: I'm not playing for you ever. Not for you, not for anybody!" and then she burst into tears. People who walked by must have thought that they were witnessing the break-up of a years-long romance, not the sudden mood swings of an irrational woman and the poor guy who happened to have not brought a guitar to the proceedings. I tried to console her but eventually gave up and went home.

*

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10/16/2017

Back to Back

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Story Sent in by Dahlia:

David had on his profile that he was a certified massage therapist. We sent some emails back and forth and then met in person in front of a restaurant.

The first thing he said when he met me was, "Your back looks all out of shape. I should massage you."

I'm not sure how he could tell anything about my back (which was fine, by the way). I was in a blouse and dress and nothing about me suggested that anything was wrong with my back.

I said, "My back feels fine but thanks for the offer."

He said, "I know a busted back when I see one. Let me massage you. For just five minutes."

I had only just met him, and although we had spoken for a bit online beforehand, I wasn't about to let him touch my back. I said, "No, thanks. Let's have dinner."

He said, "Bad backs lead to every kind of health problem imaginable. Heart attacks, strokes, incapacitation. Do you want all that? In just five minutes I can cure you."

Again I said, "Let's just have dinner," and I made for the front door.

He then said, "You'll thank me," and then pressed his hands against my back.

I spun around and screamed, "Get off me!" He bolted for his car, jumped in, and drove off.

He emailed me shortly afterward to tell me that he couldn't see himself dating someone who was so cavalier about her physical health. I replied that I couldn't see myself dating someone who assaults women. Needless to say, that concluded our relationship.

*

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10/13/2017

All's Smell That Ends Smell

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Story Sent in by Taylor:

In Mina's defense, she had a great sense of humor. She laughed at nearly everything I said. I wasn't sure if she was just humoring me, but the laughs seemed genuine. I thought things were going very well. We met for coffee, took a walk, sat down on a park bench, and as it was shortly dinnertime, I thought I'd ask her to dinner.

Then, during one of her laughing spells, she farted.

Her laughter stopped. She turned pink. I smiled at her and reassured her, "It's okay. I take it as a compliment."

She laughed at that, so hard that she farted again. She said, "Oh my god! I can't stop!" she laughed and farted yet again.

It was funny, more or less. But so many farts in rapid succession, even outside with a slight breeze, smelled godawful. She must have eaten an entire barnyard for breakfast and for lunch. I stood up and took a step or two away. Then I asked her to dinner.

At dinner, she farted a few more times while she laughed. She said, "I feel like now that I've done it once, I have no shame, anymore." It was okay with me, although the smell was still pretty terrible. That and the fact that she farted loudly enough to catch the attention of neighboring tables... well, that was a bit of a turn-off.

Even after dinner when we took a brief walk and I didn't say much, she still let a few loose, not even accompanied by any laughter. I brought the date to a close and we parted.

Aside from the farts it was a decent date. Which is to say it could've been better. She wrote me the next day to tell me that she felt self-conscious because she did all the farting and I didn't fart at all. She asked me if on our next date I could fart in front of her so she could hear what it sounded like when I farted. I didn't know how to respond to that, so I didn't. Ever.

*

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10/11/2017

Would You Say You Beelined Away? Nyuk Nyuk Nyuk.

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Story Sent in by Claire:

Seamus took me out for a quick coffee with the promise that he had something "really adventurous" planned for a post-coffee activity. He hurried us through drinks and then led me a few blocks away to a row of nice suburban houses. One of them had some tall shrubs and within those shrubs was a...

"Beehive?" I asked.

In response, Seamus picked up a rock and threw it at the beehive. We both tore away as fast as possible.

He said, "Good thing you caught up. Those things sting."

I screamed a string of expletives that all basically boiled down to, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

He replied, "I promised you excitement and adventure. How many first dates make you take your life in your hands?"

I said, "None! Because first dates shouldn't do that!"

He said, "You've had some lame first dates, then," and then jogged back up towards the hive, picked up another rock, and ran away from the angry bees. He flew past me, yelled, "C'mon!" over his shoulder, but I was done with this jackass. I hurried back to my car and drove away.

*

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10/09/2017

Explosive Entertainment

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Story Sent in by Jimmy:

First date with Andrea. We were just walking together by some shops at night. There was a small package in the doorway of one store. It was just something that was probably mailed there and had arrived after hours.

But Andrea freaked out. She stared at it and pointed and said, “It’s a bomb. I know it.” She then pulled out her phone and dialed what I guess was 911 and she told the operator about the “suspicious package.” After giving her information, Andrea hung up and then hurried away as if she herself was terrified of being blown up.

When I caught up with her I asked her how she was so sure that it was a “bomb” and not just mail. She replied, “I did tours overseas. I know a bomb when I see one.”

Andrea had never before told me that she had been in the military. Seems like the sort of thing that would’ve come up prior. Added to the fact that based on everything she had told me about herself (college, jobs, etc.), I had no idea where she could’ve fit “tours overseas” into her life. I pressed her on it but she was too vague about answers for me to really buy it.

The rest of the date was comparatively normal. We even kissed goodnight and both agreed that we’d go out a second time.

The second time out we went to an adult arcade and she spent most of the time pointing at the arcade games, pool tables, and gift shop, claiming that they were all “well-concealed bombs.” I asked her if she wanted to go somewhere else and she said she did and we went back to my car and she said, “your car has a bomb in it,” and she went back inside.

After considering what to do, I just left.

*

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10/06/2017

Emotionally Disabled

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Story Sent in by Darlene:

I have a sister who's slightly developmentally disabled. It's not something I advertise but when it comes up, it comes up. And it came up during my coffee date with Jerry. We were just talking about each other's families when I happened to mention the info about my sister.

"So your sister's a 'tard?" Jerry asked, with as little sensitivity as you can imagine.

I corrected him, "She's developmentally disabled, but she can still do things on her own and has a job and–"

"That doesn't make her any less of a 'tard. Does this mean you have 'tard genes?" he asked, apparently expecting a measured response.

I said, "No, but I'm pretty sure that your personality might."

Jerry gave me a death stare. "I'm no 'tard! What, you insulting me? I'm just asking like it's a fact. Is she or isn't she a 'tard? I'm no 'tard! I'm no 'tard!"

I ended the date there and then. But Jerry wasn't done. Over the next three weeks he emailed or texted me just about every "scientific" study he could find about the developmentally disabled and he accompanied each thing he sent with the words, "THIS IS NOT ME. I'M NO TARD. HERE IS PROOF I'M NO TARD," and so on and so forth.

It didn't matter to me if Jerry was developmentally disabled or not. One thing he definitely wasn't was a decent human being.

*

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10/04/2017

We Didn't Click

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Story Sent in by Akio:

I took Anne out for a quick coffee just to see if we'd click. While there she asked if she could take a photo of me. I didn't see any harm in it. I smiled for her camera but then she told me not to smile. She snapped her picture and I asked her what it was for.

"Just for my collection," was all she replied. We talked about other stuff including books we were reading, different Meetups we were in, and even what banks we used (I use TD Bank).

When the date was finally over she thanked me for the coffee and we went our separate ways. An hour or so later she texted to ask me if I was sure I used TD Bank.

I wrote back that I did and asked her why she was asking. She replied that she was at a TD Bank ATM and it wasn't recognizing my face from her photo of me. She said she had put the brightness all the way up and the ATM's "facial recognition scanner" didn't seem to recognize me.

Aside from the fact that I don't think TD Bank used such scanners, the larger question was why she was attempting to access an ATM with my face in the first place. I texted her back to ask her that very question and she replied, "Is there another bank you use?"

I then told her, "Actually there is. Try Bank of America, Citizens, and Wells Fargo. I have accounts at all three of them." I don't really have accounts at all three of them, but the idea of her running around to a bunch of different banks to access my accounts through their "facial recognition scanners" was too much to pass up.

She wrote me back the next day with a frowny face emoji and the words, "None of them worked."

I texted back, "Keep trying!" and stopped responding to her further messages.

*

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