Submitted by Ralph:

Cindy holds the dubious honor of being my shortest date ever.  We were talking in a restaurant booth, I don't even remember what it was about, and for some reason, she had her butter knife in her hand, waving it around as she was talking.

Next thing I knew, she had dropped the knife and she slipped down to the floor to get it.

At once, I felt the unmistakable grasp of her hand on my nuts.

"Got your balls!" she shouted, way too loudly, from under the table.

I moved my knee to push her away.  She screamed, "Ow!" and scrambled back up to her side of the booth.  She grabbed her purse, stood up, and told me that if that was how I wanted it, then that was how it would be.  She walked out, leaving my balls and I by ourselves at the table.

Upon reflection, that was how I wanted it.

Submitted by John:

Dorothy and I were on our very first date.  It was autumn.  She had written to me  (via e-mail) that she liked being spontaneous.  I thought it would be fun to make a leaf pile and jump in it.

"When was the last time you did anything like this?" I asked her.

"Um... when I was five," she said uncomfortably.

When I finished putting the pile together (in record time.  It was at least half as tall as she was, and she was a little over five feet), I invited her to have the honors of jumping into it first.  I really wanted to jump into it first, myself, but this was a date, after all.

"Uh... no," she said, "I'm not five anymore."

I had made an awesome, colossal leaf pile, and wasn't about to leave it there for some random neighborhood rapscallion to jump into.  The fruits of my labor were for none but myself and/or my loved ones.  Therefore, I took a big running jump and pile-drove right into it.  So many leaves.  It was heavenly.

At some point, Dorothy pulled out her phone and said into it, "Hey.  Can you come pick me up?  The guy's playing in a leaf pile and won't stop."

The conversation up until then had been boring.  The leaf pile was a far better date, and I told her so.  She didn't say anything to that, but she went to a street corner where I'm assuming she was picked up by whoever she called or else abducted.

Submitted by Jessie:

Hillary insisted on walking all the way across town to a coffee shop at which she said she was a regular.  All the way across town was a good four miles.  Regardless, it seemed like a good way to get to know her on a first date.

Well, turns out that Hillary didn't like talking.  Online, she wrote paragraphs and paragraphs about herself, her interests, her family, her job... but in person, she seemed content to walk fast, eyes ahead, and give the shortest possible answers to all of my questions.  After the first mile, I gave up and started talking about myself.

At the second mile, I felt more and more self-conscious, talking only about me, me, me.  I tried plying her with more conversation.  "Why did you study English?"

She'd shrug and reply, "Just something I was always into, I guess."

I tried really hard to engage her on a subject, but she made it impossible.  At one point, she even asked me, "Why do you ask me so many questions?"  Hmmm.  I don't know.  Maybe because the whole point of this is to get to know each other!

As we continued onto mile three, I decided to mention, as genteelly as possible, the above statement.  "If we don't make conversation, then how will we learn about each other?"

She replied something like, "Can't we just spend time together without making chit-chat?  Can't we just enjoy the time together?"

I asked her, "Then how do we learn anything about each other if we just walk for miles next to each other in silence?"

She said, "You can learn a lot about a person by walking next to them in silence.  Why don't we try it?"

For the final part of our journey, we did just that, and I did learn something.  I learned that walking next to someone you just met in silence is one of the silliest, most awkward things you could ever do on a first date.

We made it to the coffee place, thankfully.  But what's this?  It's closed down?  Well, drat.  What now, Hillary?

She said, "We can walk back the way we came.  Maybe we'll find a place to eat."

I was so hungry, I didn't care if we spoke or not the whole way there.  I just wanted to sit down and eat something.

Then, she said, "But I'd appreciate it if we didn't talk very much for the rest of the date."

I said, as nicely as possible, "I'm sorry, Hillary.  I prefer talking and not having to hold back with what I say.  I don't think I can do this."

She didn't say anything, but she frowned.  I told her that I was going to head out, likely take a cab or subway back home.  And I did just that.

Submitted by Bonnie:

After a night out in London I stayed at a friends house.  I was making my way back home in the morning when a guy on the tube smiled at me. I had no make up on and was feeling very sorry for myself, so this was very nice.  I smiled back.

When it came to my stop, I got off the tube and headed for the exit.  The guy followed and stopped me.  I was half-expecting him to ask for directions.

The guy said, "Hi, I hope you don't mind me asking, but my sister told me that I had to be more spontaneous.  I noticed you smiled at me on the tube so I had to come and ask you for a date. I don't normally do this and this isn't even my stop."

I wasn't expecting that, and to be honest, he wasn't bad looking and seemed genuine, so I gave my him number and we went our separate ways.

When it got to the date, he'd suggested a salsa dancing bar.  Seemed like great fun, so I went happily along. When we got talking, he told me that he was 33 years old.  I was 24.  Did I have a problem with it? I didn't but was a little shocked.

While he was in the bathroom, I texted my housemate about his age. I didn't realise that he stood behind me and read my message, then said that I shouldn't have lied if the age thing was a problem. Again I told him it wasnt.  It was just unusual for me.

Then we started dancing. There was the instructor guy in the middle of the room and all the couples were in a circle around him. The deal was you learned a move then switched partners and so on and so on.  When it came to switching, my date refused. When the instructor noticed, he came over and asked us to switch.

After a while, I didn't feel like dancing any longer, so we sat down to watch the others.  My date told me that we should play a few "getting-to-know-each-other games and dares"

I said okay, just as long as they weren't crazy.  His first suggestion was body shots.  I honestly didn't know what they were, so I asked.

He replied, "It's when I take a shot and pour it somewhere on your body and I lick it off."

No thanks!

I decided to cut the date short.  On the way back to the tube, he made a quick call to American Express as his card wasn't working.  Then he shouted and screamed at the person on the phone about how he has a limit of £25,000 on this card so it shouldn't be stopped. This was in the middle of a very busy Covent Garden!

Once we finally got to the tube, I thanked him for the evening and went to leave.  He decided this was a cue for him to kiss me.

I managed to pull away and again say bye, but he started suggesting a foot massage.  I looked around, a little weirded out.  "Where? Here?"

He said, "Oh no... back at your place. I promise it'll be the best you would ever have and it will just be the foot massage, I swear!"  I thanked him but again and said that I had to go.  He started to beg.

I ended up walking away and watching my back all the way home. I didn't text him and didn't hear from him for another week.

When I did hear from him again, it was a text to tell me off for not getting in touch about going to the theatre with him and his sister..  Er... what?  At what point had I agreed to go to the theatre with him and his sister?  I didn't reply and didn't hear from him again, thank God!

Submitted by Ian:

Evelyn contacted me in a very strange way, and maybe this should have been my first tip-off that things were going to go badly.  She called me out of the blue and told me that she was given my contact information by Amy, a mutual friend.  Amy was a friend of mine from high school, but I hadn't spoken to her in years.  I didn't even have Amy's current contact information, so I was curious as to how Amy had mine.

Still, Evelyn played it cool.  She said, "Amy mentioned you and you sounded cool.  Want to hang out sometime?"

Despite how odd the situation was, Evelyn herself seemed interesting.  She worked at a local aquarium with the animals, and she was finishing a graduate degree in marine biology.  It was something that was always interesting to me, and she seemed, at least over the phone, to be really into it.  And me.

We met up, and the first thing I noticed about her was that she hardly blinked.  Ever.  She barely looked away from me, and she didn't blink.  Creepy. 

Number two on the spooky list was her personal space issue.  Namely, that she didn't allow for any.  She gave me a big hug when we met up, then stepped away perhaps half a foot at most.  I had to step back myself for room, but she slowly moved closer.  Maybe she thought that I wouldn't notice, but I did.

Her sneakers also had my name written on them (each one) in silver glitter pen ink.  By the instep.  Maybe she also thought that I wouldn't notice that, either.  Turns out, I noticed a lot, but not nearly enough.

She also seemed far younger than I would have imagined for someone pursuing a masters degree.

We sat down at a cafe and I started asking her questions about her marine biology studies.  Each answer she gave seemed a bit too general, and she repeatedly tried to change the subject to focus on me.

Finally, I asked her what her deal was.  I told her that something wasn't adding up about her masters program, her apparent age, my name on her sneakers (which she had been turning away from me), and just herself.  What was this all about?

She confessed that she was a current freshman at my old high school.  She had found my picture in the library's copy of my class's yearbook, had developed a major crush on me, and promised herself that she would find me.  She didn't even know who Amy was, and had taken her name randomly from the yearbook.

I could've freaked out and split, but I stuck around, although I told her that she would've been better off telling me the truth from the beginning.  She apologized over and over.

I wasn't about to commit statutory, and I told her that I wasn't planning to pursue any kind of relationship with her.  She said that she understood and that it was all okay.

We took a short walk.  When we hugged goodbye, somehow or other, we ended up kissing.  I stepped away, but she came right back up to me and plastered her lips to mine.  I went with it for a little bit, then pushed her away gently.

I told her that I had to go, thanked her for being honest, and left.

Submitted by Ashley:

I agreed to go out on a date with this guy.  We shared a mutual friend and had a few nice phone conversations prior to deciding to meet up.  When I arrived at our meeting place, he offered to drive us both to dinner.

He spent the entire drive and most of dinner talking about himself: who he knows, his "connections," his acting career, etc.  I maybe was able to get a sentence or two in every 10 minutes. 

Towards the end of dinner, the conversation switched to the sort of girls he liked, what he was looking for, and finally all about his ex-girlfriend.  He went on and on about how badly she hurt him, how depressed he was for the longest time, and how he didn't feel ready to date until just recently.

At that point I recognized that the boy wasn't ready to date.  I decided to just enjoy the free meal, nodding along to whatever he said, anxiously waiting for the date to be over.

At some point he looked at his watch and abruptly ended the date.  He stated that he had somewhere to be and needed to take me back to my car.

As we left the restaurant, he continued to talk about the hard time he had with his ex.  He went into more details about his depression until he finally admitted that he was on anti-anxiety medication, anti-depressants, and anti-psychotics.

He asked me if I had ever needed to take BuSpar (an anti-anxiety medication).  I answered, "No."  He then offered his experience while taking BuSpar.

"I would take my BuSpar and then wake up three or four hours later from a trance like state.  While in this state I would develop multiple personalities.  One of them, 'Angry Joe," would fantasize about killing my ex.  I would wake up from this trance, standing in a corner, with my hands shaped like they were around her neck, strangling her.  If I could, I would have jumped on a plane to Florida and killed her."

He released the steering wheel, held up his hands like he was going to strangle someone, looked at me with the craziest look in his eyes, and loudly stated, "You know Ashley, I understand crimes of passion.  I understand how crimes of passion happen.  I would have killed her.  I wanted to kill her so many times.  She's lucky I moved back here from Florida."

I remained silent until we got to my car.  Once we made it back, I got out of his car and thanked him for dinner, then got into my car and locked all the doors.

Before I got home, he called my cell and left a voicemail that thanked me for being such a good listener and apologized for cutting our date short.  He then explained that he had a late appointment with his psychologist that evening.  He ended the voicemail by saying that he had such a great time and couldn't wait to see me again.

Needless to say I never responded.

Submitted by Heather:

Gabe spent most of the first part of our date talking about a pet pig that he used to own. His uncle, apparently, had been a farmer, and for Gabe's tenth birthday, Gabe asked the guy for a pig, which he gave him.

To hear Gabe tell it, he took especially good care of the pig for years and years, until one day, somehow or other, the pig became smart enough to use a door and escape.

"It was locked from the inside, so I have no idea how she could've escaped."

This was my cue to ask, "How was it locked from the inside?"

"It was my bedroom.  That was where she slept."

Then he asked me, "Do you keep any animals?"

I said, "A snake."

He screamed and fell backwards in his chair.  I think that he did the backwards fall intentionally, but on his way down, he banged his head against a nearby table.  An occupied table.  A occupied table with food on it, some of which landed on and around him.

He thrashed on the ground and shouted, "Aaaagh!  Snakes!" then stood, spun around, and bowed to me.  "Ta-da!"

The folks at the other table didn't seem very pleased, and a guy stood up from there and asked Gabe to pay for the food that he had ruined.

Gabe agreed quickly, then set his chair back up properly, sat down, and leaned in to me.  "I'm not really going to pay for anything of theirs.  But I'll pay for yours.  You watch."

I prodded him, "You were saying about your pig... did you ever find her?"

He nodded and said, "Took me a while.  I had to think like a pig."  He snorted, then snorted again.  For at least a full minute, he snorted like a pig.  I thought it was funny, in a little-brother-about-his-shenanigans sort of way.

A waiter went to the other table, and the guy sitting there explained that Gabe had offered to pay for the ruined dish.  Gabe overheard this, rolled his eyes, and whispered to me to meet him outside in five minutes.  He told me that his plan was to go inside and settle up our bill, but only our bill.

I agreed to his plan, and he left the table.  Five minutes later, I did as he said and met him outside.  I asked him, "So how did you find your pig?"

He snorted and beckoned for me to follow him.  I did.  He led me into a graveyard and snorted around the gravestones for a while.  He then sat down in front of a mausoleum and patted the ground next to him.  I sat, and he started snorting into my neck and onto my face.

I was having a good time, but I couldn't really see myself making out with this guy, so I pet him on the head and said, "Good pig."

He wrapped his arms around me and rested his head against my shoulder.  We stayed like that for a while and I asked him if he wanted to call it a night.

He had fallen asleep.  I rocked him a little and repeated the question.  He said, "Sure.  Thanks," and we parted ways.

It had to have been one of the weirdest experiences of my life, but for some reason, I'm really glad that I saw the whole thing through.

Submitted by Chris:

One of my worst dates (and I've had several bad ones) was with Marla.  We were sitting there, enjoying our coffee in the early evening, when, during the middle of our conversation, she reached over and shook my shoulder, out of nowhere.

I asked her what she was doing, and she said that she wanted to be sure that I was "sturdy," whatever that meant.  Then, a minute or so later, after I had nearly put it out of my head, she did it again.  And then once more.

I moved my chair away from her and asked her to stop shaking me.  She stood up, walked over to me, and did it a fourth time, seemingly as hard as she could.

I told her that if she didn't stop and explain herself, then I would leave then and there.

She sat back down and said that she had too many "soft" guys and wanted one who was "hard."

"You know," she explained, "One whose chest I can rub with my hands and be all... unnngh..." she moaned.

I asked her if she wanted me to take my shirt off so that she could see for herself.

"Gross.  No." was her response.

When we were done with coffee, I noticed that she wasn't saying very much, and hardly looked at me.  The general vibe I had was that she was ready for the date to end.  I was growing tired of her, myself, so I figured that I'd do what both of us likely wanted.

"I'm probably going to head out," I told her, "It was nice meeting you."

Then she looked at me and said, "That's it?  Already?"

Uh-oh.  "Sorry.  I can stick around for a little longer."

"I'm just a piece of meat to you?"

What the hell was she talking about?  We hadn't even done anything!  I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing.

She stepped closer to me and said, "We're still hanging out, okay?  Everything's okay," and clasped my hand.

Weird, but I found my voice and suggested that we go for a walk. 

She said, "You mean, continue going for a walk.  We're already walking."

I told her, "Yes."

She said, "Say it."

I asked, "Say what?"

She frowned.  "That we're continuing to go for a walk, not that we're going for a walk."

"Uh..."

She grit her teeth at me.  Things were crashing and burning.  She repeated, "Say that we're continuing to go for a walk.  It's so easy to say!  Just say it!"

I was about to, just to placate her, but then I decided not to.  I told her that I wasn't going to say anything of the kind.  She started to yell, but it's hard to hear someone when you're not facing them and your legs are carrying you back to your car as fast as you can go.

Submitted by Emily:

This date was ten years back.  I was an odd-looking 18 year old – overweight and not very pretty, so I did not meet many boys.

My friend Samantha tried to set me up with a friend of hers named Phil. Phil was an average-looking 20-year-old college student who seemed very nice. We talked on the phone for hours and chatted online for weeks. We finally decided to meet up on a Friday night, and agreed that he would pick me up at my dorm.

He came to the door and met me. He came in for a few minutes as I was finishing up getting ready.

He then told me that he had to go put gas in his car and he would be right back. I told him I was almost ready and we could go together. He insisted that he would be right back. I thought nothing of it at the time and finished getting ready.

Needless to say, he never came back. At the time I was really pissed. I called him and emailed him. Now as an adult I can look back and laugh. After one gastric bypass surgery and a boob job I got the last laugh.

We recently met up again at a friend’s party and now, ten years later, he said how sorry he was for leaving. He even asked me out again. I should have said yes and stood him up but I just declined and wished him the best of luck. Funny how life turns out!

Submitted by Kendra:

Nick and I met at a party.  I was just out of a long-term relationship, but he seemed like a nice guy to get to know, and I was willing to take things as they came, so when he asked me out on a date, I accepted the offer.

He was an amateur magician, he told me, and said that his specialty was doing disappearing illusions and a couple of "really neat" fire tricks.  I asked him to describe the effects to me, and he held up a finger and said, "I can do better than that.  I can show you one, after dinner.  Assuming you're comfortable with coming over to my place to check it out."

We ended up at his place after dinner, and right when we walked in, he kissed me.  I pushed him away gently and told him that I was there to see a fire trick.

He went over to his sink, grabbed a glass, and started mixing things together.  I couldn't really see what he was doing, but I hung back patiently.

Finally, he held the glass towards me.  The liquid inside was brown and murky.  He said, "Blow on it."

I did, and he gave it a little shake.  Nothing happened.  He swirled the fluid in the glass around a bit more and said, "Okay, blow again."

I did.  Nothing.  I guessed that this may have been part of the trick, but he seemed distraught.  He took the glass back to his counter, sniffed it, swirled it around a bit more, looked at it, swirled it around some more.

He brought it back over to me.  "Try again."  I did.  Nothing.  He said, with utmost seriousness, "You're doing something wrong."

I asked him, "I'm blowing wrong?"

"Do it again!"  He held it right up to my face.

I did.  Nothing happened.  He said, "It's supposed to burst into flames."

I said, "And you're holding it that close to me?"

He gave it a little shake again.  Nothing happened.  He said, "Keep trying."

"Nick–"

"Keep trying."

I gave it a solid exhale, but nothing happened. Not even a puff of smoke.  Then, he put his face right over it and blew into it as hard as he could.

A flame erupted out of it and he screamed, then dropped it onto his floor.  It shattered, the fire went out, and the brown fluid was everywhere.

He looked up at me and said, "That's how you were supposed to do it."

At this point, I was freaked out enough to not want to be there anymore.  Regardless of the magic trick, he seemed quick to anger and just being there made me uncomfortable.  It was easy at that point to bring the date to a close.

Submitted by Vincent:

Aimee would do this thing during dinner in which she'd look up at the ceiling at a 45º angle and half-close her eyes.  I figured it was just some sort of weird personality thing, but after she had done it five times, I asked her what was up.

She said, "Sorry.  I'm accepting transmissions."

I asked her, "Transmissions?"

She said, "I have limited telepathy.  I inherited it from my grandmother.  I can tune in to random thoughts."

I asked her, "What am I thinking of right now?"

She said, "It's random.  I receive just bits and pieces of what people are thinking."

"Like what?"

"Like people who are remembering to go home to walk their dogs, people who are reminding themselves to call their parents... pretty simple stuff."

I asked her, "Do you ever receive something unusual?"

She said, "Hell yes.  Once, I heard someone wondering if they hid a body well enough."

Before I could reply, she looked at me and blinked.  She quipped, "I wouldn't have sex with you anyway, on a first date."

"What?"

She said, "Someone very nearby just thought, 'I'm not going to have sex with her.'  I'd assume that it was you."

I told her, "I don't think I thought that."

"Oh.  Awk-ward!"

She didn't really speak much for the rest of the date, and it did enough to weird me out of ever contacting her again.

Submitted by Molly:

Simon and I met at a party.  We had a lot to talk about and I had a good vibe from him.  He asked for my number and I gave it to him.  So far, so good, right?

I didn't hear from him, and although I was a little disappointed, it wasn't a big deal.

Three weeks later, he called to ask me out.  I told him, over the phone, that I was wondering if I'd ever hear from him.  He told me that he had a "three-week" rule when it came to asking people out.

"That way," he said, "They won't think that I'm too desperate."

If I were him, I'd be more concerned about coming across as "too disinterested," and I told him so.

He responded that he had been told by more than one woman that calling anytime within two weeks of first meeting would come across as too desperate, and that he wasn't falling for my "ploy."

Thing was, this was three weeks later, and since I had decided after a few days that he probably wasn't going to call, I had begun seeing someone else.  That got him really mad and he muttered something about being tired of being "manipulated," and that he was ready to stop dating altogether.  I wished him luck and we hung up.


******************************
Weird.  Thoughts on the two-day/three-week rule?

Submitted by Ashley:

During dinner with Brad, it came out that he was unemployed.  At first, I tried to keep an open mind.  After all, the economy was/is bad, and it might not have been due to any fault of his own.

But then, he said, "A website I was on redirected me to a porn site.  Soon as you could blink, they hauled my ass onto the red carpet and told me to get out."

I was as sympathetic as I could be.  "That's terrible.  Did you tell them that it was a redirect?"

He answered, "Yeah.  They wouldn't listen to me, though."

I asked, "So what are you doing for work?"

He replied, "Nothing.  I don't have to.  I've brought a lawsuit against the company for wrongful termination.  It's in the bag."

My breath caught in my throat.  I asked, "Did you win?"

He said, "Well, it hasn't happened yet.  I called up a few lawyers and I might be meeting with one in a couple of weeks."

"Oh."

"But it's in the bag," he reminded me.

I wished him, "Good luck."

He said, "Yeah.  Oh, that reminds me.  Since I'm sort of out of cash until I win my lawsuit, I don't suppose there's any way you could cover this, is there?  I'll pay you back with interest once I win."

"I don't think so, Brad.  I don't really like having the rug pulled out from under me this late into a date.  I can split it with you, but that's it."

He shoved his plate away from himself and leaned at me across the table.  "I don't have the money.  I'm going to win this lawsuit.  I'll pay you back with interest.  What's the big deal?"

I informed him, "Lawsuits can take years to work through the system.  I'm not going to pay for your dinner based on a gamble that you're going to win some lawsuit that you haven't even begun."

"Fine," he said, "We'll split it, but this is our last date."

Worked for me.  That was two years ago.  Last I heard, he's found another job, similar to the one he used to have.  Go lawsuit, go!

Ah, Alice.  Alice appeared as a "suggested" match on a particular dating site about a year ago.  I checked out her profile, and statements such as, "I LOVE SHOES" and a photo of her wearing a purple, sparkly t-shirt that read "PRINCESS" were enough to turn me off to her.  For some reason or another, this shoe-loving princess thought it prudent to contact me.

"I see you like film." was her first message.  There were no questions, no details, only that statement, which succinctly summarized something that I had already listed on my profile.

"Yes I do," I replied, via e-mail.  This was great.

"What kinds of film," she replied back, two days later.  The lack of a question mark at the statement's end made me wonder if she was asking a question or issuing high philosophical discourse.

Hoping to end things quickly, I replied, "All types.  Good luck out there."

No reply for a month.  Then, "I like all types too," appeared in my inbox.  This was all a bit too exciting for me, but I wasn't really into it.  But then, she quickly followed it up with, "Want to get coffee?  My treat."  Turns out, I'm into free coffee.

She showed up on a particularly warm day in jeans and a dark green sweatshirt.  Her long, dark hair was down, and she was sweaty.

"It's so hot out!" she said, wiping her brow with her sleeve.

"It sure is," I said, "Great day for long pants and a sweatshirt."

"It's so hot, right?" she asked me.

"It sure is!"

She said, "Let's go get coffee!"

I need to give Alice a bit of credit here.  She was a pre-med student who was working the equivalent of two full-time jobs in addition to her studies.  The girl barely had a moment to think, much less make intelligent conversation.  Still, I'm not sure if her employment/academic situation can really excuse what came next.

"Nice, hot coffee," she announced as she sat across from me with her nice, hot coffee.

I was about to attempt conversation when she said, "Wait... why did I order this?  It's warm out today, isn't it?"

I stared at her, then said, "It might be the warmest day of the year."

She held up a finger and said, "Hold on for just a sec."

She stood up with her nice, slightly-less-hot coffee, and brought it to the counter.  She said to the barista, "It's too hot for hot coffee.  Do you sell cold coffee?"

They were nice enough to replace her hot coffee with colder coffee, and she sat down across from me.  Then, she stood up and said, "Let's get out of here.  It's too hot."

We walked down the block and into the suburban wilds.  She kept wiping her brow with her sleeve and holding the coffee cup to her forehead.  "It's really hot out today, isn't it?"

"It is," I agreed, "Want to go home and change?  I can wait for you."

She stopped walking and wrinkled her face at me.  "I'm not changing in front of you.  We just met!"

I said, "I never asked you to do that.  In fact, please don't.  Ever.  I merely asked if you'd like to run home and change.  I can wait."

"Yeah," she said, wiping the coffee cup all over her face, "Let me do that.  You'll be here?"

"Sure."

She ran home and was back in about twenty minutes.  This time, she was wearing the same pants, but had a bright yellow sweatshirt on.  She wiped her brow and asked me, "What's your problem?"

I said, "I... er... I don't think I said anything."

She said, "You asked me about this sweatshirt before."

"I've never seen that sweatshirt before today."

"So what's your problem with it?"

"Nothing.  It's a nice sweatshirt."

"It's so hot out."

"It is."

She asked, "Do you want this sweatshirt?"

I said, "No, thanks."

"Are you gay?"

"No."

She said, "But if you said you wanted this sweatshirt, I'd have to take it off to give it to you.  You'd see my sizable mammaries.  Both of them."

"I think I'm good."

"So you're gay."

"I'm straight, but I'm not interested."

She paused to think about this for a few moments, then settled on, "So, you're gay."

I shrugged.  "Okay.  Please keep your shirt on."

"Here."

She pulled off her sweatshirt and handed it to me.  She wore a black bra.  Her chest glistened with gallons of sweat.  She then said, "I've got to go," and left.

I donated the sweatshirt to a Goodwill.  I couldn't let it infect me with crazy.

Submitted by Terry:

Kayla and I really hit it off online, and it was her idea to meet in person.  I liked it better that way, with her asking to meet up, as we'd then be meeting up at her own pace.  We both had a lot to talk about: she was ending her first year of law school and I was just starting out as a bioethics consultant.

The only indication I had that something was amiss was when she called me about a half hour before the date.  I picked up my phone, and there was nothing but the sound of her breathing on the other end.  I asked her if everything was okay.  There was another pause and she said, "Nevermind.  See you in a bit!" and hung up.

She showed up at our meeting place, a World War II memorial near the center of town, all in black, as if she was going to a funeral.  I thought about asking her about her fashion choice when she said, "Do we have time to stop at my aunt's funeral?"

My knee-jerk response: "Why don't we reschedule?"

She said, "It won't take too long.  I didn't want to cancel.  Our relationship wasn't too close, and I mostly want to be there to support my family."

I wasn't at all wearing commonly acceptable funeral attire.  It was a nice spring day, and had dressed as such.  She seemed to read my mind and said, "Don't worry about it.  My family will be glad that you're there to support me."

I asked, "Are you sure this is appropriate?"

She said, "Yes," and off we went to Aunt Carol's funeral.

The funeral home was packed solid, and I have to tell you... Aunt Carol must have meant a lot to a lot of people, because this wasn't a "let's stand around in little pockets and celebrate her life" kind of reception.  This was a cry-fest for the ages.

I avoided eye contact with everyone, and when I turned around, Kayla had somehow melted into the room somewhere.  I was all alone, a blue shirt in a sea of black and tears.

People began asking me how I knew Carol, and I told them that I was Kayla's friend, there to support her.  One large woman, I still have no idea who she was, threw her arms around me and squeezed me so that my eyes bugged out.  "You're such a good man to be there for her!  I know she appreciates it, and Carol does, too!  I know it!"

Once I was able to slide away, I began searching in earnest for Kayla.  It was like a Where's Waldo at a funeral.  I asked a few of the younger people, around my age, if they had seen her, and one of them told me that they had seen her go into another parlor.

I walked across a hall, parted a curtain, and saw, under a piano, Kayla entangled with some other guy, his hand up her skirt, and his tongue, I'm pretty sure, in her esophagus.

Wow.  After that, I made it a point to seek out Kayla's mother, pay my respects, and then leave.  I never heard from Kayla after that, and so much the better for me.

Submitted by Robert:

Claire arrived at the scene of our date more than "a few extra pounds" heavier than specified in her online profile.  I'm not sure which I found less attractive: her weight issue or her lying about it, but I soon found a third thing that trumped them both: her personality.

Everything she said, she must have thought was the funniest thing ever.  We sat down in a restaurant booth and she said, "Pleather seats from pleather cows, okay then..."

She ordered a diet coke "to help maintain my girlish figure," to hear her tell it, and she winked at me.  Ugh.

Our food came, and she piled her chicken, rice, and potatoes into a small hill.  "Ready to excavate the pyramid," she said when she was done with her construction, "Okay, then..."

She then started humming and shifting her shoulders back and forth.  Everyone lands a tune in their head at some time or another, but she kept going with it, like a 13-year-old at a Miley Cyrus concert.

"These seats are like mini-trampolines," she informed me, "I'll bet I can bounce it all the way the the ceiling.  Okay, then."

It hit me that it was like being on a date with a young teenager.  Everything she said sounded like it was trying to take first prize at a "bad comedy" convention.

"Ever find little fishies swimming in your restaurant water?  What would they say?  Okay, then..."

"Ever notice how they dim restaurant lights right at the same time?  Do you think they all have a blackout at once?  Or would that be a food-out?  Okay, then..."

"I saw this Internet video about this guy who was hit by a car, and... he... I guess you really had to see it, but it was really funny.  Okay, then..."

"I went to the grocery store the other day and left with nothing in the cart and everything in my stomach.  Okay, then..."

Shut up.  Just stop talking.  The date couldn't end fast enough.  I didn't try to kiss her or anything at all.  She must have thought that I was playing hard to get, since she texted me incessantly over the following three weeks.  I wrote back once or twice, telling her that I didn't think we had chemistry and that we'd make much better acquaintances, but she didn't seem to receive those.  Okay, then...

Submitted by Sara:

Ken and I were taking a walk after a light dinner.  He stopped and said, "Okay.  Dealbreaker time."

This is never a welcome phrase.  I looked at him, waiting for what was to come.  He said, "Don't you want to know what it is?"

I said, "Yes.  I was waiting for you to say it."

He smiled and replied, "Heh.  I was waiting for you to ask me for what I was going to say."

"What were you going to say?"

"I hunt.  You know, like animals, in forests and stuff."

I don't have anything against sportsmen, although it's not really my cup of tea.  I told him, "That's okay.  Occasionally or obsessively?"

He laughed, then saw that I wasn't laughing.  He said, "Kind of... obsessively.  I own 30 guns."

Whoa.  That's about 27-28 more than I thought most people would ever find necessary in their lifetimes.  He was quick to cut in, "But some are antiques and aren't used.  Had an accident once, though.  Shot my buddy.  He's fine."

Before I could even react to that, he pointed his thumb and forefinger up, gun-like, at me, and yelled, "Bang bang bang bang bang!  Heh."

As I drove away at the end of the date, I remembered reading, "Animal lover" on his website profile.  I guess he just loves them in a different way.  Dead and on his plate.

Submitted by Kiki:

My bad date with Paul wasn't actually a date to begin with. My cute friend, Mark, had invited me to see a professional magic show. Paul was his best friend, and decided he wanted to tag along. Mark had invited another female friend, and his attention went mostly to her.

I had met Paul a few times before and he seemed like a fairly nice guy. My impression changed, however, after this fateful night. Paul arranged it so I sat next to him in the car, and tried to repeatedly grab my hand and wrap his arms around me, no matter how many times I pushed him away. This continued during the show, and he even rushed the stage to try to impress me, even though I thought he had made a fool of himself.

After the magic show, we went to get some ice cream. Paul spent most of the time talking to me about blow jobs and poking at my stomach, saying that I was so thin that I must have six-pack abs (I don't).

In the car on the ride home, I tried to make conversation with Mark and the other girl. Paul commented to me, "I hate it when bitches like you play hard to get," and sulked in his seat for the rest of the ride.

Paul insisted on walking me to my front door. When I tried to say goodnight, he moved in closer. I figured he was going in for a hug, so I went to hug him, but he abruptly yanked my head up and stuck his tongue down my throat.

My first reaction was to bite his tongue (not too hard, though). After that he pulled away, said good night, and returned to the car.

The next day I received an e-mail from Paul saying that he didn't like me anymore and that we were over. I didn't know we had been together to begin with.

The fun twist to this story? Mark and I are now married.

Submitted by Henry:

There was a girl in my history class in college.  I thought she was beautiful and couldn't stop looking at her through most of the semester.  Her name was Lia.

Finally, towards winter break, I steeled my courage and asked her out right after class.  "Lia, I'm Henry.  Could I maybe take you out for coffee sometime?"

She smiled, nodded, and said, "Yes."

I was so pumped, I didn't know what to say first.  I asked her when a good time/place would be.  She gave me a funny look and shook her head.  I suggested, "How about we meet at the middle of the quad tomorrow at 6?"

She gave me a confused look, then said, "Okay, see you later."

Quad, 6pm.  No Lia.  I waited for a while, but she never showed up.  I probably should have asked for her number, but I didn't, so there I was, waiting like an idiot.

Come next week's class, she smiled at me as she entered and sat down, and I went up to her to ask if everything was all right.  Her response?

"No speak English."

Uh... well, I felt even stupider.  I had asked her out, and she had probably thought that I was asking her how she was or something.  I tried asking her out again, but found that there was no real way to do it.  I couldn't even tell what language she spoke, nor how she understood things that the professor went over in class.

She wasn't back in college next semester, and I have no idea where the hell she and her made up language went.

Submitted by Rachel:

Early on in my collegiate career, I found out that public transportation was not the way to meet suitable men.
          
I was hopping a bus to surprise my friend for her birthday when I was approached by Larry. He wasn’t the best looking of guys, but we ended up chatting and got along on some really controversial things. I was impressed, got his number, and called him a few days later for a date.
          
He had suggested we meet in Harvard Square and play some pool. I was by no means a pool shark, but it sounded fun and different, so I told him I was game for the idea.

When I got there, though, I got a little lost. It took me quite some time to find him, and when I did, he was carrying a backpack and wearing jeans that were at least 5 sizes too big and a plain white t-shirt that fit him even more loosely – not at all like the clothes I’d seen him in on the bus.

Casting aside my strong negative gut feelings, I asked him which pool hall we were headed to. His response? “Oh, pool? I don’t know any places around here.”

Excuse me? You were the one who... oh nevermind.

I asked him if he knew anywhere he’d like to go, and he suggested that we take a walk. I tried to seem enthused, as I really do like for dates to go well, but as the ten minute walk became half an hour and then an hour and then longer, my interest more than waned. Finally, I suggested finding a place to eat. It was getting late, and I still hadn’t had dinner.

He decided on Chinese, but as we approached the first restaurant we found, he ran up to the hostess to ask if they prepared their food with MSG. They did, and we were out the door. Well, he was out the door, and I was left to keep up with him.

This process was repeated twice more before we finally found a place which would prepare their food without MSG if specifically asked. Too weary to pay attention, I didn’t notice when he forgot to tell the waitress his request.  But of course, when the food came around, it was not enough to throw off Larry’s game. After half an hour of searching and three restaurants, the MSG was fine. Right.
          
Not to be deterred from impressing me, Larry spilled on himself twice, went to the bathroom twice, talked to me about his “prior” drug use, and asked for the check before I had finished my meal, telling me I could just have it wrapped up.

When the check came, being a lady of etiquette, I offered to pay for my half. Larry told me it wasn’t necessary, but if I wanted to pick up the tip that would be nice. No big deal. I shelled out the dough. He asked me if I had an extra dollar, and thinking he was just short, I gave him one. He put it with my already 20% tip. Nice move, Larry.
          
Feeling more entertained than frustrated at this point, I got on the subway with him to go back to a nice spot he wanted to show me at his school. Larry pulled out the backpack he’d been carrying and asked me, “What’s the most interesting thing you brought with you?” Confused, I replied that I had a compass on my keychain. I supposed that was unusual.

But Larry, not to be one-upped, pulled out a large, heavy-looking sack from his backpack. “Reach in,” he said. Noticing my hesitation, he assured me it was nothing harmful, so I reached and pulled out… a bouncy ball. A customized bouncy ball. This was a sack of about a hundred customized bouncy balls.

He said he liked to throw them around and see if he'd ever encounter them again.  Without further ado, he pulled one out and tossed it down the train filled with people. This happened twice more, once as the train doors were closing – just for posterity, I’m sure.
          
Having just had a packed train staring at me, I was eager to get out of the limelight and agreed to go up to his room while he changed shirts. I knew someone on his dorm room floor and kept the door open, of course, so there really was no risk, but still, I should have been out of there. The finale of our date was not something I should have stuck around for.
          
Larry’s piece de resistance was a bike ride. Except, instead of the casual merriment reserved for the normals, he had me ride on the pegs of his tricked out wheels as he chose the steepest, most traffic-filled street to careen down as I clutched on to his shoulders for dear life.

At this point I quickly made up my mind that it would be best to leave his company and made up some excuse about my feet hurting.
          
I left for home, and ate the rest of my Chinese food in peace.

Submitted by Jeff:

My friend and I went out to a bar one weekend and, as per usual, we were on the prowl for the ladies... or truth be told, an easy, fun time would do just fine, thank you very much.  I'm not much of a player, but my friend is pretty good at it, so it didn't take long for us to meet two eager beavers.

The problem was, he looked at me and whispered, "I don't like looks of yours... but hey, she's big chested!" He knew my soft spot... big boobs... but she had a face that looked like it was on fire once and put out with a pitchfork.  Needless to say, I was going to play wingman to him and chat up the fugly one, Marissa. Ahhh... the things we do for friends!

At first it was all four of us chatting, laughing and getting along with many, many drinks. As the night progressed, my friend would be up on the dance floor with his babe... and me, I was stuck at the table with "Babe, pig in the city." Don't get me wrong, and ladies, call me shallow if you want to, she was quite funny and nice enough but just not a looker... at all. I wondered if I could "drink" her pretty... but didn't think there was enough Absinthe in the world for that. So, needless to say, the alcohol consumption on my part certainly never stopped.

At closing time, they invited us back to their place because the two of them were roommates. My friend really wanted to go and doubted it would happen if I didn't go back with her friend. Well, I was drunk, had a bit of money left in my pocket, and hell, what are friends for?  Besides, I don't know if it was the lighting or the booze, but Marissa was starting to look better to me! Okay. I do know the answer to that one. Booze.

When we got back to their place, my friend and his gal pretty much made a sprint to the bedroom and Marissa and I continued to talk and laugh and get along pretty well... and drink. We had not kissed or anything although she sat pretty close. When it came to the point of where I was about to crash, she said that I was able to have her room and she left.

Fully clothed, I fell across her bed. She came back about 10 minutes later in nothing but a long t-shirt and laid down beside me, leg and arm over mine. Without getting into the gory details, let's just say I "gave 'er."

When I woke up, it was early morning and just getting light outside. My head was pounding, and my mouth tasted like something crawled in it and dumped a big one. I certainly did not want to face the day with Marissa and decided I'd opt for a quiet escape. Fuck my friend... he was now on his own because I went above and beyond my wingman duty!

As I was putting on my pants, I looked over at my snoring "sleeping beauty" and saw that she had a bunch of change stuck to her naked ass and  lower back! It had to have fallen out of my pants when we started making out! Being Canadian, we have $1 and $2 coins and after checking my pants pocket, that  change was all I had to get me a cab home! I really didn't remember what neighbourhood I was in at this point, so my only option was to pick away at the change that was stuck to her.

Luckily, she never woke up and I got out of them and home and never saw her again!

Submitted by Jan:

I met Wendell and we really hit it off.  He found out that I liked to fish and invited me to come fishing with him.  I took him up on his offer.

We launched his boat and tied up to the floating dock.  He asked me to stay put while he went to the little store for bait.  I sat on the dock with my feet in the boat, holding it against the wind.  Thirsty, I leaned forward to get a beer out of the cooler but when I sat back down the dock wasn’t there.  I hit the water in a backwards somersault and hit every oyster in my trajectory

When I pulled myself out of the water my leg was gushing blood.  Folks launching a boat nearby asked if I was okay, and I said sure.  They didn’t look convinced.  Wendell trotted up and insisted he take me to the ER for stitches.  I said no, that we were here to fish, just get me something to stop the bleeding.  He came back from his car with a handful of Starbucks napkins.  I pressed them against my leg, got in the boat, and told Wendell to cast off.

We fished under a nearby bridge for a while, him continually asking if I was okay, me dripping blood all over the place, getting blood on boat and gear, and catching nothing.  I wondered if Wendell would pause to wash down his boat before racing me to the airport, or just cut his losses and call a taxi for me.  I wondered if mixing beer and blood loss was a good idea.  I also wondered if my tetanus shot was up to date

After getting the boat back on the trailer, Wendell stopped at a drugstore instead and patched me up.

Oh, and for our honeymoon?  We went fishing.  That was eight years ago.

Submitted by C.J.G.:

Submitted by Jeff:

In my early days of online dating, I chatted with Dana online for about two weeks without first seeing a picture. Not recommended, but I was young(er) and more trusting of people's descriptions of themselves.

Two of the things she told me prior to meeting was that she had a young child and that that she had just gotten out of rehab for a drug issue, but was 100% off of them now.

We finally decided to meet in person and as much as I'd like to say she had a face like a bucket full of smashed arseholes... she didn't. She was okay-looking, but just not my type. I felt nothing.  No movement.  No connection.  We still had a good time talking and decided to stay friends.

About a month after our one and only date, she called me and we talked and caught up again.

During that conversation, she received another call three times and each time she came back to talk to me, she seemed more frustrated. I finally asked her what was wrong and she told me that she still owed this drug dealer money from the past, and that he was harassing her constantly for it. Having a young child, she didn't have the money to pay him off.  She lived for free in a basement apartment in her mother's house, and her mother wouldn't help her pay it off. I asked her how much she owed and she said $180.

I said, "If I give you the money to get rid of this guy, will you promise to pay me back?"

She said that she could not take my money but thanks anyway and she would deal with it. I now felt that it was my duty to help her out... if not for her, for her young child. So after some persistence on my part, she finally agreed and said that she would pay me back when she went back to work.

She lived about 30 minutes away and asked if I would drive her the money that night. I told her that it was too late but I would definitely do it in the morning. Her other line beeped again and she said it might be best if we could close this deal immediately because this guy was getting nastier to her all the time. I really didn't want to go out at this point, so she suggested giving the drug dealer my address to come pick it up if he called again.

Umm... no! I don't want that loser to know where I lived! So she suggested that I send it to her in a cab as a package. She said that her mom would cover the cab. I thought that was an okay idea and told her I had to run down to the bank machine and get the money, which I did.

On my way back upstairs, it hit me.  Why would her mom pay for a cab to allow her daughter to borrow money from somebody to pay off a drug dealer ? That didn't make any sense...

When I got back upstairs she had already called me twice and left a message asking what cab company I was using to send it. She sounded too excited for my liking.

When I called her back, I asked to speak to her mom. She said her mom just left to go to the convenience store. I told her to get her mom to call me when she got back because I wanted to make sure her mom was okay with me sending money.  To me, of course, I wanted to see if my suspicions were correct.

Ten minutes later, my call display showed her mom's name and the voice on the other end sounded exactly like Dana, but higher pitched. I told her "mom" that she sounded exactly like Dana and she laughed and said they have been told that before.

I then asked "Mom" where Dana was and she told me that she was downstairs in her apartment. I told her that, no offense, but I wanted to hear the two of them talk at the same time.  Something wasn't right. She chuckled and said I was being ridiculous and that everything was on the up and up. I told "Mom" that to make me feel better, I'd like to hear them at the same time or in the same room together. She told me that she'd get Dana to call back.

At that point, I was done with this and ignored the next five phone calls until she finally left one on my answering machine.  It went something like this:

"Hi Jeff, It's Dana... not sure why you're not answering your phone but my mom is going to pick up now..." *click* "Dana tell your friend to send the money.  I don't have time for all this drama and..."

Submitted by Kayla:

Six months back, I joined an online dating site out of frustration with the caliber of men I had been meeting in person. It was my first foray into the realm of Internet dating, so I was pretty nervous. The first night I joined, while I was toying around with my profile, I received an instant message from Kevin. Right off the bat he struck a nerve - it seemed like for everything I had to say, he had a sarcastic retort. I tried to ignore that, until he started pleading with me to eat dinner with him.

"I just met you, I think it's a bit soon." I told him.

"That's bullshit.  You're just trying to blow me off. Look, I have a girlfriend, I just don't want to eat dinner alone. I'll even pay."

I know what you're thinking.  It sounded sketchier than a 49-year-old man offering a small child candy to climb into his unmarked van... but I was broke, hungry, and figured it couldn't be that bad.

I met him at a little cafe near the mall where I worked (but not before leaving his full name, Facebook link, and phone number on a piece of paper for my roommate).  Everything was fine, at first. He was, as he promised when trying to entice me to go out with him, short and scrawny and I could have easily overpowered him.

Conversation wasn't completely awful, but half the time he would try to one-up me and his ego quickly became irritating.

After we finished eating, he suggested we go to the mall to do some Christmas shopping. He insisted we ride together to conserve gas, so, with visions of being stuck in a car trunk, I said I would drive.

I worked at the mall we went to, so I made sure to walk by and say hello to everyone I knew working that night (you know, just in case I ended up on the evening news as missing, it would be good to have witnesses). Kevin mentioned that he needed help picking out a present for his girlfriend so I offered to help out.

"Well," he began, "I really want to buy her new underwear. She really only has granny panties."

Okay... a little odd, but I can deal with that. I don't shame easily, so I brought him into Victoria's Secret. Within the first few minutes I was pretty sure he was going to drown in drool from looking at all the underwear and sexy posters on the wall. I was throwing out suggestions but throughout the whole ordeal he kept saying "Hmm, I'm not sure, I mean, would you wear these? What kind of panties do you wear?" I would try and just laugh it off and reassure him that they were cute and popular but the questions persisted so finally I came up with an excuse to leave, and he didn't buy anything.

When we got to my car I realized I had forgotten something at my job so I ran inside to get it and left him in my car to wait (minus the keys of course). At this point in time I had some dirty clothes in a bag in my back seat from having spent the night at a friend's house. I didn't think anything of it, though, and dropped him back at his car and bid him adieu.

A few days later, when I was cleaning out my car, I realized the underwear that I had in that bag were missing. I didn't want to mention it to him because I didn't want my fears confirmed. He was irritating enough for me not to want to hang out with him ever again.

A few nights ago, I ran into him at a bar. He drunkenly stumbled over to me and said he "wanted my mouth" and started swirling his tongue around in the air. Pretty sick. He then proceeded to ask if I could sell him weed and then asked, "Well then, can I buy your underwear?"

So, naturally I louded him out to his friends and hopefully embarrassed him to the point where he'll never steal anyone's undergarments again. Yikes!

Submitted by Ralph:

Louise was one of the most attractive women I had ever seen.  Bonus was that she worked in my office.  Unfortunately, that meant that a romance was out of the question.  There were no policies explicitly preventing it, but you know how those things inevitably ended up.

I confided to a workplace friend, Marty, that I found Louise ridiculously hot.  He floated the idea of making a workplace pool for who could bed her first.  I found the idea funny in theory but distasteful in practice.  We didn't speak about it again, and I considered the matter closed.

Two weeks later, I found a significant uptick in the amount of time in which Louise sought me out to talk to me.  She seemed to be looking for reasons to come over to visit.  This was not at all unwelcome, but was certainly unexpected.

What was most unexpected was when she asked me out.  I must have asked her three or four times to make sure that she thought it a good idea.  Not because of a low self-opinion, but because of the whole workplace romance thing.  She assured me that she was really into me.  I bought it, hook, line, and sinker.

I was so nervous for the date.  I couldn't believe that it was actually happening.  It actually made me shake, which I hadn't done since high school.  That's how excited I was.

Imagine my disappointment when, right after we sat down at dinner, she leaned in to tell me that the whole date was a trick.  I was the subject of a practical joke, masterminded by none other than Marty.  He wanted to get me all excited about a potential date with Louise, and then pull the rug out from under me.

I was about ready to vomit when she told me this, and I asked her, perhaps desperately, if she would still be interested in dating me.  She assured me that she wouldn't.

The next day, I told my boss.  Louise was transferred to another department, and Marty was demoted on the spot.

Don't fuck with my heart.

Submitted by Pina:

Eddie opened up the "red flag" portion of our date with the phrase, "I have a collection of human skulls."

He paused for effect, but I'm pretty sure that I didn't give him what he was expecting.  I said, "Former girlfriends?"

He said, "My grandfather fought in some war and brought them back.  Want to see them?"

I shrugged.  It was only 7pm.  "Sure," I said.  What girl doesn't love skulls on a first date.  After all, the kid was probably bluffing.

He wasn't.  We went to his house and he had about two-dozen clean skulls on shelves around his room.

I said, "Your grandfather really cleaned house, whatever war he fought in."

He said, "He didn't kill them.  At least, most of them.  He found them and brought them back.  He liked skulls, too."

As I was flitting my attention from one head to another, I noted that Eddie was inching closer to me.  I turned to him, stood on my toes, and kissed him.

I then said, "Well, I can cross that one off the list.  Kissing a guy in a room full of skulls.  Can we go do something else?"

Eddie said, "You don't want to stay here?"

I responded, "Nah.  I'd feel like an exhibitionist in front of all of these guys.  We can go see a movie."

Eddie gestured to his bed and kept at it.  "We're already here."

"You figure that out by yourself?" I asked him.  "I want to go.  Amuse me in some other way."

He just kind of looked at me for a little while.  I told him, "I'm going to walk out.  If you have an idea for something else for us to do, then catch up.  Otherwise, adios."

He must have lost my trail, since he never caught up.  Weirdest date I've ever had... and possibly for him, too.

Submitted by Antoinette:

Paul and I met on an Internet profile website.  We met at a restaurant and everything was fine for a little bit.  That was, before I began smelling something absolutely horrid.  It smelled like a cross between a hot, juicy cow anus and moldy, fishy vomit.

We talked about this and that as the night went on, but that smell was omnipresent.  I had to resort to mouth-breathing through most of the date.  At one point, I asked Paul if he smelled something terrible, and he said, a little too quickly, that he didn't, and then changed the subject.  Weird.

Dinner came, and the smell of what we had ordered masked that awful aroma.  But it was still there.  I had long since decided that it was coming from Paul, but could think of no genteel way to deal with it.

After dinner, we walked down the street into a little, well-lit park.  We leaned against a rail that looked out onto a small lake, and he leaned closer to me.

There it was.  His breath.  I was ready to puke.  I pulled away.

He asked me what was wrong.  I told him straight.  He flipped out, claimed that his breath was fine, and then, to "prove it," started breathing on me.

I stepped away from him, he got right up into my face.  I pulled out a little thing of mace that I carry around and told him that if he didn't back off, I'd be ready to use it.  Who the hell did he think he was, trying to breath his scummy breath all over me?  He threw his hands up in the air and took off.  The smell went with him, thank goodness.

Submitted by Laney:

When I was 18, I worked at a local restaurant as a waitress.  One of the bartenders, Chris, 23 years old, seemed obsessed with taking me out on a date.  I finally agreed with this statement:  "If I go out with you once, will you promise to never ask me about again?"  He said yes, and we planned to meet after a lunch shift one day later that week.

Our plans included dinner and a movie.  He took me to an Italian restaurant, which was one of those "order an entree, salad and bread are free" sort of places, so I ordered manicotti.  After a couple pieces of bread and my salad, I really wasn't very hungry, so I ate a bit of the manicotti and left the rest.

He said, "The next time we go out, you're only allowed to order a salad.  You're a waste of money."  I half-giggled, thinking he was kidding.

Even though the movie theater was right next door, Chris decided to drive halfway across town so I could see where he lived... with his parents.  The quick tour included his single bed and Superman sheets (I always wish I was kidding when I get to this part of the story).

Back across town, we went to see A Perfect Storm... and apparently I was the only person who didn't already know how the movie ended, and it was so sad that I cried.  Just a few tears and sniffles.  Chris once again berated me, this time because I didn't know how the movie ended and because I was embarrassing him.  Seriously?

Instead of taking me back to my car, as requested, Chris decided to go to a party at his old fraternity (before he dropped out of college).  When we arrived, I recognized several people we worked with and bee-lined over to them.  About 30 minutes later, Chris showed up in front of me, red faced and livid.

"We're leaving," he said.  In the car, he yelled (again) about how rude I was to abandon him at the party. 

We finally made it back to my car, which was in the parking lot where we worked, and as I turned to thank him (he paid, so he deserved that much thanks), he turned to me, put his arm around my seat, and leaned forward for a kiss.

I couldn't help myself and I just laughed.  I pushed him back into his own seat, said "I don't think so, Chris," and got out of his car, into my own, and drove home.

He did keep up his end of the bargain, though.  He never asked me out again.

Submitted by Amy:

Peter and I got to know each other off of a web dating site.  It started out intense from the get-go.  We ended up making out in his car on the first date.

For our second date, he suggested having a picnic in a park that was due to have fireworks.  I love fireworks and I was really falling for him pretty hard, so I agreed.  I offered to make lunch and he offered to make dessert.

It started off nicely enough.  He liked the chicken salad I made, and I liked his cinnamon rolls.  We talked and talked as we waited for it to get dark.

We finally made it onto the topic of friends, and I casually mentioned that I got into online dating because my friend, Margot, had had some success among all of the weirdos that you meet online.

"Not Margot Wilson?" he asked.

I started at him and froze.  "Y-yeah," I said, "Margot Wilson.  You know her?"

He rolled his eyes and said, "Sure I do.  She's totally fucking nuts."

He said it with utmost sincerity.  I had to press him, "You know her?"

"Knew her.  We went on five dates.  She was the craziest girl that I've ever met.  Did you know that she wanted to run across the freeway at rush hour?  That was her idea for a third date.  I had to talk her out of it, even after she parked us at the side of the highway."

This reminded me of something Margot had said last year.  Something was floating into my memory, but I had sort of forgotten...

He continued, "And she flew off the handle for me for the most insane shit.  I opened a door for her and she flipped out all about women's lib for three hours!"

Suddenly, something clicked.  Earlier the prior year, Margot had told me about a guy she had been seeing who she "couldn't get a handle on," but once she realized that he was a habitual liar and prone to violent anger, she distanced herself away from him.  Could this have been the same guy?

As if to confirm my suspicions, Peter said, "I can't believe you're friends with that... her.  You're going to have to make a decision and quick."

My mouth opened.  I said, "Are you asking me to choose between you and Margot?"

"Ding ding ding!  She gets it!  What does she win?"

I said to him that I'd have to think about it.  He kept pressuring me for the rest of the date, and I was certainly in no mood to be around him any longer, much less mess around with him again.  I was able to let him off with a, "I need to think about this."

He dropped me off at home, I wrote him a cordial e-mail explaining that Margot had been my friend for years, and that I wasn't comfortable with the way he was making me feel.

Surprisingly, he wrote back a week later with a short but polite goodbye.  Thank goodness it was neat and tidy.

Submitted by Chris:

Allie and I were already dating for a couple of months. She was very smart and came from a wealthy family. We would do a lot of fun things together, including eating out often. I would always pay for our meals and usually took the brunt of the costs we incurred when we went out.

On my birthday, Allie suggested that we go out to eat at Todai in Houston for lunch. I had never even heard of it, but I was always up for something new.

Submitted by Pat:

Submitted by Dave:

Miranda was an open-mouth chewer.  At dinner, she'd smack her lips and take large, wide-mouthed chews with her food.  I grew tired of it pretty quickly, and asked her if she would mind closing her mouth while she chewed.

Her response?  She said that I'd be better off not being so controlling so early on in our "relationship."

She took special pains after this discussion to chew with an even bigger mouth.  Big, slow chews.

Then, she started choking.

She reached for her Diet Coke and gulped some down, but it just made her choke more.  She then grabbed for my water and that seemed to do the trick.

I asked her if she was all right.  She nodded, wiped her face with her napkin, then went right back to staring at me and chewing, chewing, chewing away.

She asked me if it continued to bother me, and I told her that she could do whatever she wanted.  I had long before decided to not ask her out a second time.  I'm sure she found another slob who'll make her happy.  They can chew at each other all day long.

Submitted by Rachel:

Tim was a guy I knew as an acquaintance at the gym. We worked out near each other, fell into conversation, flirted back and forth, and finally decided on a date.

Little did I know that Tim outside of the gym was totally different from the Tim I knew inside. His personalty on the date was completely different. He was a total asshole.

He showed up dressed as if he was going out for a beer night with his buddies, but that's not even what bothered me the most. We took a walk down a main street in a little downtown area when he turned to me and said (I'm not joking), "Want to see me do a split, bitch?"

Before I could reply, he lowered himself onto the sidewalk and did a split. I said, "Please don't call me 'bitch,'" and he stood back up.

"I just did a split, bitch. You'd think that you'd be impressed!"

I informed him again that I didn't like being called that.

You know what he said in response? I'll bet you can guess: "But what about my split, bitch? What about my split?"

I said to him that I wasn't about to continue the date with a guy who wouldn't listen to me when I told him that something made me uncomfortable.

He said, "Well, I'm not going to keep hanging out with some bitch who isn't even impressed when I do a split for her. You know how tough it is for a guy to do a split?"

"I—"

"Bitch? Do you?"

I thought about arguing and arguing, then realized that that was probably exactly what he wanted.  So I took a moment to compose myself and said, "See you at the gym, Tim."

I turned and walked on my own down the sidewalk.  "Bitch!  Don't be like that!  Hey, bitch!"

He completely ignored me at the gym after that, and despite it being awkward for a little while, I think that things worked out as best as they possibly could.  I wanted to warn every woman on Earth about this guy.

Submitted by Gregory:

Angie and I met on an online site. Things went well enough for a month or so for me to ask her out. She seemed really into the idea at the time, which confused me, given how things ended up.

We had agreed to meet at a restaurant and I arrived there early. The time for our meeting came and went, but I gave her an extra ten minutes. Maybe she was caught in traffic.

I called her and she picked up. A TV blasted in the background. She asked who it was. I told her it was me. She gasped and said, "Oh my god... I completely forgot! Give me a half-hour!"

Nevermind that we had made these plans a week ago and that I had called her the prior night to confirm. Still, she sounded really upset, and I had really wanted to meet her. I told her to come as soon as she could. She thanked me a whole bunch, then hung up.

A half-hour later, she hadn't arrived. No phone call or anything. I called her for a status update, expecting her to be in her car, on her way.

The TV was still blasting in the background when she picked up. This time, she sounded more angry than upset. She said, "My show is on, and I never miss it. Can't we just postpone?"

Amazed at her behavior, I asked, "Didn't you realize that we had made plans on the night of your show?"

Someone laughed in the background. It sounded like an older woman.

"Look," she said, "I can't meet up tonight. I'll call you soon? All right," and hung up on me.

She didn't call me, of course, and I didn't call her.

Submitted by Gwen:

Oliver was literally the boy next door.  He and I grew up together, played together, and were neighbors.  When we were about to enter junior high, he and his family moved away, and we kept in touch for a little bit, but, as life happens, we fell out of touch.

Fifteen years later, he called me up.  I didn't even know how he found my number, but I didn't care.  I was so thrilled that he was back in touch.  We Facebooked and I was amazed to see how he had grown up.  And the best part of all?  He was moving back to our hometown!  There was a little part of me that screamed, "You can pick up right where you left off!" although I knew that he probably wouldn't be too into freeze tag any longer.

He picked me up at my house, and gave me the biggest hug ever.  It was as if no time had passed at all.  It was such a happy moment.  Our plans were to go to a sit-down cafe and catch up for a while.

He opened the passenger side door of his car and motioned for me to enter.  I smiled and stepped inside.  He walked around to the other side of the car, and an oncoming white coupe that was traveling too fast and too close to our side of the road smashed right into him.

The coupe slowed down, long enough for me to see the license plate, but then sped away.  I jumped out of the car and called 911.  His leg was bent so much that I couldn't imagine that he'd ever walk again.  He was unresponsive.  It had instantly switched from the very best day to the very worst day of my life.

The ambulance came and took him away.  The police took down the license plate of the hit-and-run motorist.  No one else was at his apartment, but I took out his cell phone and called his parents to let them know.

I followed the ambulance in my car, waited for over an hour in the hospital waiting room, and a doctor came out to tell me that he was awake and going to be fine.  He was asking for me, although they said that I'd have to wait a little while before being allowed in.  I called his parents to let them know.

When he was moved to a room, I went in to see him.  He gave me the warmest smile and jokingly proposed to me.

His parents flew in.  He was let out after a few days, and he recovered.

We're still together.

Submitted by Franz:

I did a lot of dating last year, but none were more memorable than Shelly.  Shelly worked at a local university as a low-level administrator.  We met online, then met in person.

She was either really desperate or really horny, because this girl came onto me like gangbusters.  It didn't hurt that she was gorgeous.  I was a fan.

Dinner, then drinks, then an invitation back to her condo.  Kissing, then touching, then an invitation to her bedroom. Off went the clothing, then into the bed.

She climbed away from me for a second.  I figured that she was just adjusting her position.  That's about when I felt it.  Something brushing the hair on my upper left thigh.  I looked down, next to me.  There was something long, dark, and moving.

A snake.

I screamed like my hair was on fire, kicked away, and jumped out of the bed.  Shelly yelled, "Watch out!  You'll hurt her!"

"What the fuck?" was all I could say.  I felt like I was going to faint.

She said, "I use snakes in bed.  I didn't tell you?"

This would have been something that I would have remembered.  In fact, if I was to make a list of "stuff that Shelly told me that I should remember," just above the time/date/location of our first date would be stenciled, "girl likes snakes in bed."

Shelly continued, "She's harmless.  Her brothers are around here somewhere.  Will you come back to bed?"

No, no, no, no, no.  No.  I'm not coming back to your snake-filled bed.  What the hell did you expect me to do?  Wrap my arms around it, hold it close to my sweet man-warmth and kiss its head?  And you HAD to have known that you didn't tell me about the snakes!  Wouldn't I have had some sort of reaction?

I grabbed my clothes and was out of there so fast.

Submitted by Tracy:

Eddie said on his online profile that he was an accomplished flutist.  While we were getting to know each other, I asked him if he would play for me sometime, and he said that he would.  Every time I asked him about playing the flute, though, he would change the subject and move on to something else, abruptly enough to draw attention to itself.

At our first and only dinner together, I asked him more about playing the flute, and he got all in a huff and said, "Enough about me and the goddamn flute!"

I shrank back.  This wasn't what I was expecting.

He went on, "Fine, you want to know what it's all about?  I don't play the flute.  I do this trick with my dick in which I can make it make a noise when I ejaculate.  Someone once told me that it sounded like a flute.  That's all it means.  I don't play the flute, as in the instrument."

Whatever my face must have looked like at that moment, it seemed sufficient enough for him to take the hint.  He smiled and waved his hands and said, "So that's my flute!  Satisfied?"

Suffice it to say, he had a solo performance that evening.

Submitted by C.W.:

While in high school, I met a guy through some mutual friends at a party. He was a few years older than I, and had already graduated. He seemed sweet and well-mannered.  By the end of the evening he ended up asking me for my number. I obliged, and for the next week or so we exchanged calls and texts.

About two weeks after getting to know one another a little better, he asked me out to dinner and I went. The dinner date went wonderfully, so the next week when he asked me out to a movie, I was eager for Friday evening to come.

After the movie, we went back to his car and started fooling around a bit in the parking lot. Before I knew it, his hands were in my pants. At first I was reluctant but shortly after I just decided to go with the flow.

That is, until his finger ended up in the wrong hole! The first time it happened I summed it up to an accident, and tried to brush it off. Then the second time, I pulled away and said “Hey, wrong hole!”

He didn’t seem at all phased by this and did it a third and fourth time! (I understand that this may be acceptable to some, but I think at the very least this should be discussed before it’s attempted. Personally, I was horrified.) Before I could express my disapproval more sternly, there was a knock at the foggy window. Yep, you guessed it – a cop.

Still struggling to get my pants up, my date proceeded to roll down the window and say “Can I help you, bro?”

As if I wasn't embarrassed enough, pants still not completely on, the officer addressed me and asked me to step out of the car.

People nearby were staring, and the cop pulled me aside and asked if I “know this guy” and if I’m “in the car willingly.”  I briefly explained that he was my date and we would be on our way.

After returning to the car, my date suggested that we take our tryst to a less populated area of the parking lot! I explained that it was getting late and that I was ready to head home.

Apparently having a severe case of selective hearing, he parked elsewhere and proceeded to try and put his hand down my pants again. I pushed him off and explained as nicely as possible that I needed to get home.

He then said, “You’re ready to go home now? Well I’m not, so either hang out with me, or walk!”

The movie theater took about 25 minutes to drive to from my house. Even so, I calmly said “Although that sounds tempting, I would much rather walk than have your fingers in my butt one more time,” and shut the door in his face.

He called, texted, emailed, and went as far as finding me on some social networking sites to try and apologize and ask me out again. Needless to say, I ignored his advances.