Closing Up Shop


A Bad Case of the Dates is closing. Ad rates have plummeted, I've become much busier with my own writing work (a comedy pilot script I wrote was recently optioned!), and it's no longer cost-effective to run the site. I'll keep posting twice a week until I close for good on December 31st of this year. BUT! I'll leave the site up for the foreseeable future so you can come back and revel in the archives. I'll also be around to read the comments.

If you're a Patreon patron then big thanks to you. You kept us going these last few months. I've reverted the Patreon to patron-only, which means that the last payment that went through should be the last one you'll be charged. You might want to head over to patreon.com to make sure that you're no longer listed as a patron, anymore.

Since I started ABCotD in August 2009, I'm thrilled to have seen this funny little site featured on Huffington Post's Seven Sites You Should Be Wasting Time on Right Now, the Washington Post (twice!), NBC, and even good 'ol AOL.com. Most importantly, I'm grateful to the regulars and especially the friends I've made off of the site. Making and maintaining such a wacky repository of bad date stories was worth it if it meant meeting you. Aww.

The site's last post, on December 31st, will feature the very worst date I've ever had. I've been saving it for a special occasion.

Of course, if you ever have a bad date story you simply MUST tell me, email me at abadcaseofthedates at gmail dot com. I'd love to read it! If you're actually interested in my further adventures, you can always visit jaredmgordon.net to see what hijinks I have in the pipeline.

A hundred thousand thank-yous for the years of laughs and support. Thank you for being a fan. And if my site has brought a smile to your face, well, that's really the very best thing of all.

Aside, perhaps, from a good date.



There's a new bad date post below! The next one will be posted on Friday.

Oven and Done With

Story Sent in by Jackson:

Sasha and I were out on our very first date and we asked ourselves a string of questions about each other. It was very much like "truth or dare" without the dare part. Then Sasha upended things by saying, "Dare me to do something."

I said, "Uh... what should I dare you to do?" It was a first date and I figured she wouldn't be comfortable doing something sexy.

She said, "I dunno. Dare me to eat a whole pizza."

She was a very slender girl and I didn't think she'd be able to eat two slices, let alone eight. I said, "I dare you to eat a whole pizza."

She led me to a nearby pizzeria, ordered a large cheese pizza, and asked me to pay for it. She said, "If I'm eating the whole thing for you, you've gotta pay for this."

I paid, the pizza came out, and she did indeed eat the entire thing, slice by slice. I couldn't believe it. Then she said, "Dare me to eat a dozen garlic rolls."

"No," I said, fearing for her intestines.

She said, "Then I get to dare you something: I dare you to go stick your head in that pizza oven." She pointed to the metal pizza oven behind the counter.

I said, "I'm not going to do that."

She yelled, "I just ate a whole pizza for you! And you won't do this for me?"

I said, "One of those two things puts one of us in immediate life-or-death danger."

She said, "I'm gonna be on the toilet all night, thanks to you! And you seriously won't do this for me? Even for a second?"

"I'm sorry. No."

Sasha clammed up after that. We walked out of the pizza place together but then she hurried off on her own, so I guess the date was over. Thankfully.


Better Red Than Dead

Story Sent in by Cora:

Bart arrived on our first date in an old t-shirt and jeans, covered with bright red spatters. I knew that he was a painter, so that explained why, although that didn't necessarily excuse why he looked like a serial killer.

"I was in the studio and lost track of time," he explained.

Fair enough, but he attracted a lot of strange looks. We were out to lunch at a crowded cafe and he really did stick out. During our talk he'd blurt out, "I'm not a killer," loud enough for people nearby to hear. I think he did it because of how he looked. But if anything I think that made him stick out even more.

After lunch he asked me if I wanted to go to a movie. There were films out we both wanted to see so we agreed on one and we went to the theater and he paid for the tickets. I thanked him and I waited for him at the concession stand as he went to the bathroom.

He took a while and came back right around when our movie was starting. He told me, "These guys in the bathroom were bothering me so I told them I was a killer and they had better leave me alone. That's why I wore this, today. But anyway they said they'd call the cops so if we're thrown out of the movie I just want you to know that it's not my fault."

I didn't know how to take that so we went into the theater and sat down with everyone else. Sure enough, about 10 minutes into the movie, a pair of ushers came in with flashlights and they looked down each row and when they came to us they asked Bart to go with them. He went calmly and I just stayed there and watched them take him away. But then I felt guilty and so I left the theater shortly afterward.

Out in the lobby I didn't see Bart or the ushers who had taken him so I went to customer service and asked them where Bart was. They girl behind the desk said that she didn't know. I called Bart's phone and sent him a text but he didn't write back. So I went back into the theater to watch the rest of the movie.

I called Bart again that night and he picked up. He told me that they had told him that he couldn't wear his red-spattered clothing inside the theater. He had then offered to take off his clothes and go nude, and they then told him to leave. He ranted about how no one understood artists and painters and asked me over to his place for that night. I turned him down and he didn't call me again.


The next post will be on Tuesday.


Lock 'n Knock

Story Sent in by Rico:

Kerri and I were together for around a month when she called me up on a Tuesday night in a panic: "I'm locked out of my apartment and I'm naked!"

My first impulse was to ask her how it had happened but I understood that time is of the essence in such circumstances. She told me that she would wait for me in her building stairwell and so I grabbed a spare blanket and rushed over to her place, across town.

When I arrived and made it to the stairwell, there was no sign of Kerri. I called for her and then went to her apartment. She wasn't there so I called her phone. She picked up and asked, "What's up?" as calm as calm could be.

"What's up?" I repeated, "Last time we spoke you were naked and locked outside your apartment. Where are you?"

She said, "Oh. I got one of my neighbors to open the door. He's here now and I made hot cocoa and we're sort of cuddling, I guess. Speaking of which, I have to go. Toodles!" and then hung up.

I listened at her door for a bit and heard her laughing and talking inside with a guy. Not really content with the way things had worked out, I thought about knocking on her door but then had a better idea. I went back to my car and grabbed a paper clip that I had in my glove box. I bent off a straight piece from it, returned to her door, and slid it into her lock. Then I left.

Less than a half hour later I received a text from her: "DID U DO THIS TO MY DOOR???" I didn't respond and then a couple of minutes later I received, "U R WORSE THAN EXPLOSIVE DIARRHEA! AND I'VE HAD EXPLOSIVE DIARRHEA!"

I'll take her word for it.


The next post will be Friday.


Date Number Two

Story Sent in by Madison:

Roger took me out to lunch and then to a local museum that I hadn't been to since I was little. He was a nice guy who kept the conversation going and at the end of the date he asked me if he could see me again and I told him that he absolutely could.

We chatted over email and over the phone over the next week and a half and arranged date number two. We agreed to meet at a nearby seasonal carnival and I looked forward to walking around it, going on rides, and eating lots of fried dough. Mostly, I looked forward to seeing Roger again.

So you can imagine my surprise when a guy who had to have been almost twice my age (and twice my weight) lumbered over to me at the carnival where I waited and said, "Hey Madison. Good to see you again."

I had never seen this guy before in my life. I asked him who he was.

"I'm Roger," he said.

This guy was definitely not Roger. He was a different person. He was older, taller, larger, and even had a different voice than the Roger I had previously seen. I said, "You're not Roger. Who are you?"

He sighed and said, "This sometimes happens. I look one way some weeks and then look different other weeks. But I'm Roger. Go ahead and ask me anything about our first date or the emails we've written and I'll answer it."

I couldn't even believe that I indulged this guy, but I asked him what my favorite show was (we had had a long conversation about it), my favorite books, and the first two things I tried majoring in when I was in college (we had also spoken about that at length).

This guy, whoever he was, not only got everything right - he also volunteered extra details that I had discussed with Roger. I was totally losing it. The only explanation I could come up with was that Roger had told this guy everything about what we had talked about and was trying to gaslight me to some sort of extreme lengths. But I couldn't have it. I told the guy that I had to leave, and despite his claims that he was Roger (he definitely 100% wasn't - not even a little bit), I did indeed take off. I mean really. He looks different on different weeks? That was the best he could come up with?


The next post will be Tuesday.


Not Okay

Story Sent in by Phillipe:

Jo and I were out to dinner together on our first date. We were eating our pasta when she accidentally kicked my leg under the table. She apologized and I said it was okay.

She then kicked me again, two more times. Hard. I must have shouted some expletive and she said, "You said it was okay! Why would you say it was okay if it wasn't okay?"

"I was forgiving you for kicking me. Not giving you the green light to kick me again. Are you some stupid child?"

"No!" she shouted, then slammed a fist into her own pasta. spattering it all over her hand, the table, and even her nice blouse. She then stood up and stormed to the restroom. I hoped that she wouldn't come back to cause a further scene, but she outdid my hopes and didn't come back at all. On the downside, when I returned to my truck after finishing dinner, she had covered the hood and the driver's side door with shaving cream.


Blackest Friday

Story Sent in by Cara:

I went to high school with Henry and he and I had dated here and there and made out a few times. The summer after we had graduated high school we hung out a lot and promised to stay in touch when we went off to college, and we did. When Thanksgiving break rolled around, he asked me if I wanted to go to the local strip mall on Black Friday. I liked people watching and so I was all in.

Our first stop was a pet store. Neither Henry nor I had any pets so I wasn't sure what he was doing in there. He led me down the chew toy aisle, grabbed a few stuffed toys, and shoved them down his pants.

"What're you doing?" I hissed at him. The guy was shoplifting in plain sight.

He said, "C'mere," and then grabbed me tight and kissed me. Then he said, "Next," and hurried out of the store.

He then led me into a bookstore, went down the sci-fi aisle, grabbed some paperback books, and stuffed them down his pants. "I'm holiday shopping," he explained to me right before grabbing me and kissing me again.

"You're shoplifting," I said.

"Quiet! You want people to hear? The point is for them to not know I'm doing it. What do you want?"

I said, "I want you to stop shoplifting."

He replied, "No, I mean what do you want for Christmas? Let's go get it. Now."

I said, "I want you to stop stealing from these stores."

He said, "A big-screen TV? Some really nice book? An iPhone? Just pick something."

I repeated, "I want you to stop stealing."

He said, "That's it? That's all you want for Christmas?"


He shrugged, said, "Okay," and pulled all the stuffed things and books out of his pants and left them in a pile in the aisle. He then said, "Find your own way home," and hurried away from me.

"I drove here myself!" I called after him. I then put the books back on the shelves and brought the stuffed toys (with some explanation) back to the pet store. For all I know, Henry went right back to those places on his own and re-stole everything, but at least he wouldn't do it with me in tow.

Content Policy

A Bad Case of the Dates reserves the right to publish or not publish any submitted content at any time, and by submitting content to A Bad Case of the Dates, you retain original copyright, but are granting us the right to post, edit, and/or republish your content forever and in any media throughout the universe. If Zeta Reticulans come down from their home planet to harvest bad dating stories, you could become an intergalactic megastar. Go you!

A Bad Case of the Dates is not responsible for user comments. We also reserve the right to delete any comments at any time and for any reason. We're hoping to not have to, though.

Aching to reach us? abadcaseofthedates at gmail dot com.