Snow Way

Story Submitted by Rianna:

It was a snowy weekend early this year when Ben, a 26-year-old friend of mine since junior high, called me up to ask me if I wanted to play in the snow.  Of course I did!

We made two snowmen, had a snowball fight, and made a snow fort.  As we crouched behind it, hiding from goodness-knows-what, he smashed part of the wall down on me and yelled, "Sneak attack!"

Somehow or other, he ended up on top of me, our faces very close, and he kissed me.

That part was unexpected, but not unwelcome.  He was a good guy, and I liked him.

What I didn't like was the snow all over my face, melting into my coat, and his weight on top of me.  It was hard to breathe, and I shifted to push him off.

He pulled himself onto me, making breathing even more difficult.  I shook free of his kiss.

He persisted in going for my mouth as I coughed and gasped.  "Ben–" I began, and he was back at kissing me.  I tried to push him off, but he was too heavy.  I broke away from his kiss a second time and yelled, "Get off me!"

He didn't go in for another kiss, but he didn't move, either.  He looked at me as I struggled to move away from him.  I hit at his legs, and that gave him the hint.  He rolled off and watched me as I gulped down air.

"You kiss weird," he said, "I don't want to be out here anymore."

I told him, "I just couldn't breathe under the snow and with you on top of me.  I don't mind that you kissed me."

He gave me a funny look, then threw a snowball, right at my face, with a lot of force.  It hit the side of my hood, knocking it back.  He frowned at me, and I yelled, "What the hell?"

He then made a noise that sounded like, "Rrraaagh!" and ran off.  I did mention that he was 26, right?

We haven't hung out since then.

Next Time, Leave the Launch Plans at Home

Story Submitted by Elliot:

I met Cindy online, we corresponded, and we opted to meet in a local park.

I arrived early, so I sat on a bench, opened my laptop, and caught up on some work.

While waiting, I opened up my browser and checked the dating profile site for any new messages.  None, as usual.

A minute or so later, Cindy appeared.  We hugged hello, I put my laptop into my work bag, and we strolled through the park.

We caught each other up on our days, and not long into the walk, she asked, "So, I'm a little surprised to find you back on the prowl.  We haven't even had our first date, yet.  Should I be insulted?"

I had no clue as to what she referred, and I asked her to clarify.

She laughed and said, "You were surfing Match on the bench.  You thought I wouldn't see?"

Before I had seen her, she must have approached me from behind and looked over my shoulder at the screen.  That was... creepy.

I told her that I was merely checking for messages, and joked, "It's a little weird that you sneaked around behind me.  Did you see my secret nuclear launch plans?"

She immediately retorted, "It's a little weird that you were looking for sex right before this date."

"I wasn't," I protested.

She laughed it off and said, "Let's just do this."

It cast a cloud over the entire evening, and despite my bringing it up once or twice more to rationalize it, she just waved away my explanations.  All I had to do was imagine being married to her, and it made me never want to see her again.

I See That You're Busy. Are You Busy?

Story & E-mails Submitted by Antoinette:

Patrick and I had gone on two dates, and I felt no real attraction for the guy.  He was nice, but boring and always looked like he was a couple of seconds away from falling asleep.

At the end of our second date, I ended things as gently as possible, and he didn't seem to have any problem with anything that I said.

That night, the first e-mail arrived:

Antoinette,

I realize that this might be hard for you, but I think that it's better this way for the both of us.  I just don't feel any real connection between the us.  I know that you must feel differently.  I apologize sincerely, and I truly feel that we'd be happier with other mates.

Strongly,
Patrick

---------------------------------

I had been the one to end things with him, and after reading it over several times, I figured that this was just his own way of dealing with it.  Whatever.  I didn't bother responding.

The next day, another message:

Antoinette,

My dear, sweet, Charlie Brown.  What are you up to on Friday?

Strongly,
Patrick

---------------------------------

Was this his way of trying to stay friends?  Maybe that was it.  I wrote him back:

Patrick,

Thanks for your e-mails.  I think a clean break would be best, and that we shouldn't see each other again.  Thanks all the same, and good luck to you.

Sincerely,
Antoinette

---------------------------------

Patrick replied:

Antoinette,

Thanks for letting me know.  Are you up for something on Friday.

Strongly,
Patrick

----------------------------------

I didn't respond, as I thought that my words in the prior message were pretty easy to figure out.  Also, why close your messages with "strongly"?  Is that weird or is it just me?

Friday came and went.  Saturday morning, 5am, a message from Patrick:

Antoinette,

We didn't end up doing anything last night.  Would you like to do something tonight?  Let me know before tonight.

Strongly,
Patrick

-----------------------------------

I blocked his account after that.  Something clearly wasn't quite right with the guy.

A Bowl of Conspiracy Nuts

E-mail Submitted by Sasha:

I'm a nice guy looking for a normal girl.  I like fun nights out and quiet nights alone with you.

I pump gas at two stations (part time) and work on my music whenever I'm not at work.  I've written seven songs and my friend knows an agent in Salt Lake City who wants to sign me.

I like revealing secrets and the government has written me two letters asking me to stop.  I know a lot about 9/11 and what the government's hiding.  Did you know that no government employees died on 9/11?  Everyone who died in the Pentagon missle attack was actually a lifer in a federal prison.  Three buses full of inmates were delivered to the Pentagon earlier that day (I have footage proving it and it's worth a lot of money) to die and they didn't know that they were stand-ins.  What a terrible thing to do, even to inmates.

It's important to me that you write back, so I hope that you do and we can discuss whatever you'd like.

Joe

How Silly of Me. I'll Fix it at Once.

E-mail Submitted by Colin:

I write this to every guy who has "watching movies" listed on his profile.  NEWSFLASH!!!!: women know that "watching movies" means "having sex while watching movies".  Don't change what you have on your profile.  Just be honest from now on.

Patricia

Sounds Like We Have a Deal

E-mail Submitted by Niya:

You seem like a real-life diamond in the rough.  Permit me to introduce myself: I'm Jeremy.

I love taking care of a woman the way she deserves to be taken care of.  This means a lot of paying, a lot of pampering, and a lot of listening on my part.  It's okay, I understand.  Women should and must be treated like a woman.  A good woman will go crazy if you don't treat her right.

In exchange, a man should be treated like a good man.  I like giving and taking in relationships, and there should be a culture of that.  This means a lot of fucking, on your part.

Too many women are takers and not enough are givers.  I wrote you this message because you imply in your profile that you are a giver and taker.  I have been with women who take too much, none who give too much, and some who give a little and take a lot.

Hope to hear from you.

All best,
Jeremy

So I Think You Can't Dance

Story Submitted by Brenda:

Eric had "dancing" on his online profile.  I love salsa and swing, and I told him so, then asked him to what type of dancing he had referred.

"Salsa and swing," he replied.

Perfect.  I had a great idea for a first date.  A dance place had been open for a couple of months in town, and I had tried it once and had a blast.  I asked him if he wanted to do dinner and a dance, and he agreed to it.

Eric had moved to the area from across the country, and at dinner, he told me how he was the best dancer in his hometown.

"I gave lessons," he said, "People came in from all over the state, and neighboring states, too."

I was impressed, and also intimidated.  What if he thought I was a lousy dancer?

We made it to the dance studio, and I steeled myself to be swept off my feet.  What if I missed a step?  What if my rhythm was off?  What if he got tired of my intermediate-at-best skills?

When he took me in his arms and we began to salsa, for the first minute, I was confused.  His steps were completely alien to me.  I struggled to keep up, thinking that I was way, way off.

Then, it dawned on me.

He couldn't dance.

"What are you doing?" I asked him.  "We're supposed to be doing salsa."

"Oh," he said, and then switched up his first incorrect steps to a different set of incorrect steps.  I don't know what he was doing, but it definitely wasn't salsa.

I stepped away and gave him some instruction, careful to save him as much face as possible.  He repeated the moves I had showed him, but repeated and repeated them, as if he didn't know anything else.

"I was never really all that good at salsa," he confessed after several minutes.

I said, "But you said that you had taught it."

"Well yeah, to five and six year olds in an after-school program."

Thankfully for me, we switched partners every few minutes, but he was by and large the worst dancer there, all over the floor, spinning people non-stop... I felt really bad and after a few switches, matched myself up with him again and asked him if he wanted to do something else.

He said that he was fine dancing, and then he went over to the water cooler and leaned against the wall, watching everyone else.

I danced with another fellow, then went up to Eric and told him that I was feeling tired and ready to go.  He seemed surprised, and instead of taking the hint, he walked off and danced with another woman for one more dance, then came back to me.

He said, "Okay.  I'm ready to go."

We both went home and that was it.  I have no idea what his game was, and at this point, I don't care.

That's What Curbs Are For

Story Submitted by Ron:

Emma and I hadn't really gotten to know each other too well when she floated the idea of going on a date.  "There's only so much about a person that they reveal about themselves via e-mail," she said, "Why not find out if we click earlier?"

I couldn't find much at fault with her logic, but in person, I learned quite a bit about her, and very quickly.

I arrived at the diner first, and she showed up a couple of minutes later.

"Sorry," she said, "I stepped in dog shit outside."

She took off her shoe and asked, "Do you mind?" and scraped her filthy shoe off on the edge of the tabletop.  She wiped up the mess with a napkin right after, but I had completely lost my appetite – and my interest – in her.

Love Me, Love My Glasses

E-mail Submitted by Elise:

It's me again.

I deleted my profile and made another one. This dumb girl freaked out because I found her twitter account and showed up at her work when she mentioned on twitter where and when she was working.

It seemed like a good time to "start over". You didn't reply to me before, but since you're showing up high on my list again, I thought I'd write you again. Maybe you're one of those people who think that I'll take you ignoring me as a "no". That just doesn't happen, though.

It's always the same. They just flip out and go crazy one day, telling me that they'll "report me" if I ever contact them again. It's so retarded. They're almost as brain-dead as a Republican. It never occurs to them to just "say no".

I'm not sure why I seem to scare people so much. Maybe they can tell that I'm not a good, lobotomized citizen of society like all the rest of the cattle.

Did anyone ever tell you you look like Christopher Reeve? Maybe it's the glasses.  I think you should wear a different style. Smaller lenses. Thin wire frame or semi-frameless, like mine.

Even Sarah Palin wears frameless glasses. I think I'll look at the frames next time I'm at Costco.

So what's new?

And After You Hunt Them Down?

E-mail Submitted by Lora:

Are you a good grrrl?

Good grrls don't complain, don't cry, and don't mutter sad curses under their breath when I come home late from work.  Just because I come home late doesn't mean I'm cheating on you!  Sometimes it means that I'm working!  Othert times it means that I'm working!

I work odd jobs sometimes late.  I just want a girl to UNDERSTAND and LISTEN from time to time.  Don't go running off to cry at your sisters and don't go running off to my friend's house to cry on his shoulder and sleep in his bed.  That's heppened to me too many times to count.  I always hunt them down in the end.

They say that al women are evil but their wrong!  I think you can prove them wrong.  Can you prove them wrong?  You and I both like disco music, the godfather, and card games I can teach you some card games all you have to do is ask.......

Keep it coming,
Fred

Hell Hath No Fury as a Woman Who Wants Her Tea

Story Submitted by Alex:

It was my second date with Rita when the tea incident occurred.  I had her over at my house, thinking that I'd make her a nice, romantic dinner.  I started out with a light vegetable appetizer and some tea.

I had brought the tea to a boil and served it.  She sipped it and said, "This tea's a little cold."

I told her, "I brought it to a boil."

She pushed it in my direction and said, "Could you heat it up a little more?  My mouth isn't very sensitive to heat."

This was the first I had heard of this kind of problem, but I wasn't about to argue with her.  I added some water and heated it up, boiling for several minutes.  It couldn't become any hotter unless I turned it to steam, so I served it to her as hot as hot could be.

"Still cold," she said, "I'll just do it myself."

She went into my kitchen, did the same exact thing that I had done, brought water to 100 degrees, poured it over a tea bag, and sipped at it.

She shook her head at me.  "No way this is boiling," she said, "Your oven working right?"

I took the cup from her and tried a taste myself, scalding off a cityscape of irreplaceable taste buds in the process.

"It's really not hot at all," she said, "Would you mind if we went out and grabbed some tea from a Starbucks or a diner?"

It was late and I had dinner cooking.  I asked her if having radioactively hot tea was truly a necessity.

She said, "If you're going to serve tea, you have to do it right."

I offered her alternatives: wine, cranberry juice, coffee...

She said, "I'm kind of in a tea mood now, you know?"

I didn't have such moods, so I couldn't sympathize.  I asked her if we could go out and find super-hot tea after dinner.

"I'm kind of in the mood for it now," she said.

I said, "I don't think that's happening.  Sorry."

She smiled and said, "Okay."

I thought that we were over the tea discussion when halfway through dinner, she stood up and said, "I'm sorry.  Your food is great, but I'm just really in the mood for tea.  I'll be right back."

I was so taken aback that I didn't do much to stop her from leaving.  I reheated her plate and waited patiently for her to return, which she never, ever did.

Maybe Love Is a Game, After All

Story Submitted by Payton:

Angela worked in a Gamestop that I frequented.  She and I got into a conversation about a game that I was buying, and I asked her out.  She proposed a sort of date "game night" of just the two of us at her place and an Xbox.

The night of the date, she called to tell me that her brother had taken the Xbox for the night and asked me if I'd be willing to postpone the game date for another night.  I was perfectly willing to do so, and I took her out to dinner, instead.

During dinner, her brother texted her constantly.  Apparently, the Xbox he had taken was on the fritz and he was having technical difficulties.  I suggested that she tell him that she couldn't be bothered because she was on a date, but she excused herself instead.

"I know I can fix it over the phone.  That way, he'll stop bothering us."

She was gone for a few minutes, then came back with a smile.  I hoped that the interruptions were over when she received another text.  She showed it to me.  It read, "It's still not working.  Can you come to Bill's house to fix it?"

She asked, "What do you think?"

I said that I thought that, as she was out on a date, that her brother could wait.  She protested that he wouldn't leave her alone until she went and fixed the issue.

I said, "If we go to your brother's friend Bill's and fix it, then can we continue with the date?"

"Absolutely," she said, "Promise."

We went to Bill's apartment, and she fiddled with the Xbox for a few minutes only to say, "I think it might be busted."

I own an Xbox, myself, and I've had similar problems with it.  I asked Angela if I could take a crack at it.  I won't go into technical details, but after 15 minutes of trial and error, I had it working.

I asked Angela if she wanted to finish up the date at my place, playing my Xbox.  I was expecting a no, as it was our first date and I was inviting her to my house.  She surprised me and said yes.  Her brother didn't bother her anymore, and the rest of the date lasted way longer than I thought it would.

We had a great time, and we're still together.

Shower Once, Shower Often

E-mail Submitted by Sean:

r u related 2 matthew mconoughey?  u look like him greasiest but dunked in hot butter.

Anne

Date on Fire

Story Submitted by Elizabeth:

I fielded messages from way too many skeevy men online, and was about to delete my profile when Ben messaged me.

Ben was a part-time musician in a local band and a full-time middle school librarian.  He joked that working with kids was just what he needed to ground him after rocking out, and that rocking out was just what he needed after working with kids.

He took me to a place that had little pots of scented oils on the tables, lit from below by a candle.  The decor was dark and had plenty of curtains.

We had been talking for a little bit and already had our food when he accidentally knocked over one of the oil pots.  It fell to the ground, near a curtain.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he yelled, jumping down to his hands and knees.  I thought that he might have spilled some on himself, but he grabbed his water and poured it down, under the table where I couldn't see.

I began, "Are you–"

"It's on fire!" he yelled, and grabbed my water.  Then he grabbed my plate (as opposed to his) and poured all of my mostly uneaten food onto the floor.

"Sorry," he said, "I had to smother it."

And then he started in on his food without a second thought.  After a moment of figuring out if he was planning to eat his entire dinner in front of me (which, apparently, he was), I said, "I think I'm going to get a salad."

He didn't respond, and I ordered my second dinner.

When the bill came, he called the manager over and argued with her about my first dinner plate, telling her that it was irresponsible to have a little pot of flammable oil on the table in the first place, that he had probably saved the restaurant from a fire, etc.  He eventually did manage to have my first dinner order canceled, and we left the place.

I was already a bit turned off to him, but when he asked me if I wanted to take a walk, I liked the idea of being outside on such a warm night, so we did.

At one point, we were walking side-by-side in silence when he stopped and did some air guitar.  "I've got to invite you to one of my shows," he said, then let loose a massive fart.

He jumped.  "Ooh.  A juicy one," he said, then belted, "Juicy!" as loud as he could, still jamming on the air guitar.

He offered to take me home and once we made it there, he leaned in for a kiss.  As he wasn't very attractive to me anymore, I leaned back.

He asked, "What's wrong?"

I said, "I don't think we're a good match."

"Why not?  Let's talk about this.  Come on," he said, and sat down on my porch.

I didn't feel like talking about it, and I said, "I just don't think it's a good match.  Good luck out there."

"But why?" he asked, "Why?" and I let myself inside my house and shut the door.

He asked, "Why?" about ten more times, then left.

Your Skin Makes Me Cry

E-mail Submitted by Jen:

The skin tone in all of your pics=bright orange.  Visit the tanning bed much?

Tanning beds cause cancer and cancer is nothing to sneeze at.  I hope you thank me from helping you realize this.

Your profile says that you like horrors and dancing.  Have you ever thought to combine them in dancing at a horrors movie?

Your skin is kind of like horror.  Don't take that personaly, but I feel that you really should know.  A thank you for warning you would be nice.

Ed

Precisely How Freaky Is This Family?

Story Submitted by Paco:

Last Thanksgiving, I brought a date to my family's event: Roberta.  Just before dinner was to be served, she disappeared.  My family asked me where she was, and I looked all over the house for her.  I tried her phone.  No response.  I went outside and looked around the house, and called up and down the neighborhood for her.  She was gone.

I returned to the house, where dinner was served, and where everyone in attendance asked me where Roberta was.  I didn't have an answer for them, and I tried her several more times through dinner, dessert, and after.

I was becoming pretty nervous and checked all over the house again, outside, up and down the neighborhood, and everywhere else I could think of. 

After I called her phone for what was probably the hundredth time, she texted, "Stop calling.  Thanksgiving somewhere else."

Sorry to have bothered you, bitch.  Stupid me, thinking that you coming to my family's dinner meant that you'd be having dinner with my family.

I had been out with her three times prior, but I never saw her again after this stunt.  She told me, a few days later, over the phone, that she had a "minor freak-out" when she met my family and that she called her ex-boyfriend to pick her up.

This year, I'm thankful to not be having Thanksgiving with her.

Snoring Above it All

Story Submitted by Megan:

On my second date with Will, he showed up with a bag of clothes.

He asked, "Is it okay if I spend the night at your place?  I have family staying over at my house and I gave my room to my cousin."

Our first date had gone well, and I guessed that this might have been a cute way of trying to hook up with me. I said he could stay over, in my bed.

After dinner, we went home, hung out for a little bit, and then he passed out in my bed. I was next to him, on my way to sleep, myself, when all at once, the sound of his snoring stabbed into my ears.

I poked him, tapped him, shook him.  Nothing would wake him up.  There was no way I could sleep next to such a jet engine, so I ended up on the couch with the TV on and pillows over my head.  No joke, I thought that my neighbors would be banging on the walls, given how loud he was.

In the morning, he told me, "Sorry about that.  I have a deviated septum."

I wonder if his family asked him to find a place to stay, knowing that he'd wake the house up with that racket. That relationship didn't progress much after that.

Because of a Zebra's Butt

Kelsey wrote her first e-mail to me in verse, so that alone made me sit up and take notice.  She was pretty - a blonde with a great smile - and she was applying to several English PhD programs.

I checked out her profile.  Well-written, yes.  Let's check out her photos.  A shot of her on a mountain trail, nice.  A picture of her concentrating over a chess game, great.  A photo of her pressing her tongue to the rear of a zebra, super.

Wait.

With wide eyes and a wider mouth, her tongue was very obviously pressed to a zebra's butt.  The caption read, "Testing for buttsauce."

In my response to her, I complimented her on the creativity of her message, asked her a few harmless questions, and queried about the zebra picture.  I believe that my exact words were, "Did you find any buttsauce on that zebra?"

Her reply to my entire message was two words: "What zebra?"

I wrote back, "Why, the one whose butt you're testing for buttsauce in your profile photo.  I hear that equine buttsauce is especially good."

The next day, that photo was deleted from her profile.  She wrote me another message, in response to the questions from my first e-mail, but without addressing the zebra picture at all.

I surmised that the photo's placement on her profile was a mistake, or that she was embarrassed by it.  Either way, I didn't plan to bring it up again, although the thought crossed my mind that if we ended up kissing, then little atoms of zebra butt would enter my mouth.  Yum!

Kelsey turned out to be very sharp, and I usually like sharp women, so I asked her out. We did dinner, followed by a jam session at her aunt's condo (her aunt wasn't home) over a piano and bottle of wine.

I began playing "Circle of Life" from The Lion King without telling her the name of the song.  She sat forward on the couch and asked, "What's that song?  I know it."

I said, "It's 'Circle of Life' from The Lion King.  The part in the beginning with the elephants, giraffes, and zebras running over to Pride Rock for the presentation of Simba."

"Okay!" she yelled, loud enough for plentiful condo neighbors to hear, "I know what this is about.  The fucking zebra was a dare on my trip to Africa!  Now you know, and you can shut the fuck up about it."

Kelsey was being a little too sharp.  That's not what I meant at all by playing the song, or by mentioning zebras.  The evening had gone from fun to zero in a moment, and it was, somehow, my fault.

Quite apart from being misunderstood, I don't like being spoken to that way, and I told her, "That's not why I played the song–"

"Okay, sure," she interrupted.

"...but I don't think that being dared to lick a zebra's ass is a big deal."

She said, "Stop talking about it!" then yelled something unintelligible and put her hands over her ears.

"Are you done?" I asked when she was done.

She didn't respond, but she stared at me, like she was deciding whether to continue with the date, or to flay me and display my attractive remains as a warning over the gate of some exotic zebra-lickers-only fortress, built high in the rolling hills.

I turned back to the piano.  "I'll play zebra-free songs from here on out."

"Okay, that's it.  Please go."  She stood and opened the door for me to exit, which I did as soon as possible.

My date was over.  All because of some stupid zebra, tens of thousands of miles away.

Girl Power

Story Submitted by Kat:

I had attempted online dating once before and it ended in disaster.  Then I met a great guy, not online, and we hit it off and went on five dates before he disappeared.  After that, I swore off dating for a while... which turned into two years without a date.

It wasn't until earlier this year that I decided to give online dating another go.  Dave wasn't the first guy to message me, but he was the first one who could string a sentence together as if he was actually college-educated.  It was ridiculous that a guy, on the sole merit of his NOT asking me to flash him, had an instant in.  "Online dating" must be a euphemism for, "lowest common denominator."

Dave had a strong sense of curiosity, and I'll admit that I was curious about him as well.  He had been in several more relationships than I had, but he was very patient when I told him that I wanted to take things slowly.

After I told him that I hadn't had any kind of relationship in a while, he asked, "Have you been approached by any guys in the past two years?"

I told him that I had been, although I hadn't taken any up.

To that, he said, "Yeah, right.  I'll help you out there."

I wasn't sure what he meant, but somehow he changed the subject and upon later reflection, I guessed that he was kidding around.

When we met in person, after talking for over a month, the first thing he did was to give me a hug, which was nice.  His hand reached down to my butt and smacked it.  Not as nice.  I didn't say anything about it, though.  Based on what I thought I knew about him, he was a good guy.

At dinner, he asked me, "How would you like the honor of having me be the first guy in two years to sleep with you?"

A mercy fuck?  How romantic!  I said, "I'd have to decline."

"You've forgotten how sex feels.  Let me remind you."

I informed him, "I remember how it feels."

"Not with me, you don't.  I've been told that I'm great."

I said, "I don't think that this is going to work."  We exchanged goodbyes and I left.

Not long after I made it to my house, there was a knock at the door.  I looked through the peephole.  It was Dave.

"We started off on the wrong foot," he said, through the door, "Let's try this again.  I bought wine."  He held up a bottle.

How had he found out where I lived?  That was my next question.

"Internet," he said, "Let me in."

I said, "If you don't leave right now, I'll come out there myself and kick your ass."

He smiled.  "I'd like that."

As he continued to knock and work the doorknob, I dug out a baseball bat that I kept under my bed for just such a purpose.

I made it back to the door, thought about warning him a second time, realized that doing so might have made me lose my nerve, then opened the door, screamed, and advanced on him with the bat.

I was hoping to not have to use it, and I wasn't disappointed.  He made a face as if he had spontaneously shit himself, stumbled back, and took off.  He dropped the wine bottle on my lawn, and it didn't break.

I picked it up from where it had fallen the next morning.  It was already opened.

The incident hasn't scared me away from dating forever, but I haven't gone out to look for anyone since then, and you'd better believe that I deleted my profile immediately after.

I'm Sure It's on Its Way

E-mail Submitted by Alexa:

i like the pic of you in yur bikini.  you have a great body and i want to touch it.  maybe you coul slut it up some more in your next pic but just only send that pic to me.  it wouldn't be right to post it online where anyone could see it.

dont forget to send that pic.

Milo

Male Role Models: The Case in Favor

E-mail Submitted by Claire:

Not possibly the best way to start an e-mail, but hear me out new friend: I can cook, clean, wash, dishes, and make you feel like a special woman.  All women want to be held held in a way that makes them feel special and I have studied for many years how to do this.

I was raised by women went to a school of all women and I work with only women the results are that I know how to speak to women and make them feel special.  I hold them special and can feel special.

Dont think that I'm lying I have three sisters.  My mother taught in an all women school ad I was the only lad in a all women school.  Its understandable to ask how can this man know about women so well but I know they must be held.

After reading the profiles of many women you are the woman I want the most.  Nice to meet you and have a nice holiday.

Robert

Retail Sales: 1. Romance: 0.

Story Submitted by Charlie:

Lisa, who I met online, had her heart set on a new restaurant in town for our first date.  It was the place's opening weekend and when we made it there, having driven in separately, it was packed.  The host informed us that it would easily be an hour and a half wait.

I turned to Lisa and said, "Should we try someplace else?"

She shook her head and said, "I can wait.  I want to eat here.  I can do some shopping in the meantime."

She led me to a nearby mall (walking distance).  We walked past a clothing store and she said, "I'll meet you out here in a half-hour, okay?"

Before I could reply, she was on her way into the store.

I followed her in, as something didn't seem quite right.  When she saw me, she asked, "What are you doing in here?"

I asked her if she could put shopping aside, as I wanted to spend time with her, as it was, after all, a date.

She said, "I won't be long.  Promise.  I've just been meaning to come here for weeks."

I couldn't dissuade her (though admittedly, I didn't try very hard).  I was hungry, so I grabbed some ice cream from the food court, a newspaper, and sat on a bench near the store.

A little less than an hour later, I went into the store to find her, just in case they were going to call us in early at the restaurant.  I walked up and down the aisles, and couldn't find Lisa anywhere.

My cell didn't have a signal, so I went outside and called her.  No response.  Her cell probably didn't have a signal in there, either.  I guessed that she was in a dressing room.  What a great date this was turning out to be.

I went back into the store and asked one of the clerks to call for Lisa in the dressing room.  Sure enough, that's where she was.  I told her that we should probably head back to the restaurant.  She ended up not buying a thing ("It's way overpriced," she said) and we hightailed it back to the restaurant.

We didn't miss being called, thankfully, and after several minutes, we were called.

We sat in a booth and she bit her nails like mad.  "Are you nervous?" I asked her.

In response, she opened up the menu, scanned the items, and flipped it over to face me.

"I want this," she pointed, "And this," and then she stood up.  "I'll be right back."

She took off, in the direction of the entrance.  Perhaps that was where the bathrooms were.  Still, something didn't seem quite right.

When the waitress came by, I asked her if she would mind checking the bathroom for my date.  The waitress was very nice and did it at once.  She came back to report that there was no sign of Lisa.  I had had enough of waiting at that point, and I ordered my food and what Lisa had wanted from the menu.

Our food had long since arrived by the time Lisa made it back, with a loaded shopping bag from that clothing store.

No apologies or explanations, of course, and the first thing out of her mouth?

"You started without me?"

I replied, "What does it matter?  We're clearly not on a date."

She glanced at the bag and said, "It's just a little bit of shopping.  What's your problem?"

I pointed to my food and said, "What's your problem with a little bit of eating?"

"It's rude," she said, and started in on her food.

I insisted that she pay for her meal.  She muttered, "Jerk," under her breath, and as soon as we left, she booked it for her car.  Good riddance.

Two Accidents

Story Submitted by Annie:

John was an Internet find back in my early 20s.  I had dreaded the idea of looking online, but two of my best girlfriends had found their boyfriends through dating websites.

John and I had a few things in common, like writing fantasy fiction, ballroom dancing, and clubbing.  He was also articulate and easy on the eyes.

We met at a coffee shop in the late afternoon.  He gave me a big hug and planted a wet kiss right on my lips.

"Whoa buddy, slow down," I said.

He smiled and led me inside.  We chatted over coffee.  Myself about my aspirations, family, and history.  Himself about how much he hated sitting for his little brother, who was, apparently, 17 years younger then he was.

"My parents fuck a lot," he said, "But protection didn't work last time.  He was an accident, and I never let him forget it.  Were you an accident?"

"I don't think so."

"Your parents would never tell you.  Most of us were probably accidents."

I'm pretty sure that I was an intentional birth.  He went on, "Want to meet my brother?  You'll see what I'm talking about."

He stood up before I could respond and went on, "It won't take long.  I have to go home to check on something anyway."

I followed him to his house and inside.  No one else seemed to be home.  "Wait down here," John told me, "I just have to check on the little accident."

I couldn't believe it: he had left his little brother alone in the house to nap as he went out to meet me in the coffee shop!

He went upstairs and came back down after a minute.  He walked toward the door, as if he was ready to continue with the date and abandon his brother again in the house.

I said, "You're not going to leave your little brother alone here.  He's three!"

"He's not my kid!" John said, "Why do I always have to take care of him?"

John and I ordered in Chinese, he tried to kiss me about six more times, and I left soon after finishing my food (the cost of which we had split).

"Why didn't you call child services?" I can hear you asking.

I did.  He got in huge trouble.  And we never went on another date.

When Confession Just Won't Cut it

E-mail Submitted by Ron:

You seem like a great guy, so you're prob single because of other dumbgirls!

Dumbgirls are girls I call stupid, dumb, or those who don/t appreciate a good thing when they have it!  Dumbgirls treat guys like you bad, and other girls (smartgirls) like me are left to deal with it. 

I like to deal with it (well, I don't like to deal with it but I'm used to dealin with it.  There's a difference.)  and you can   Guys are messed up because girls treat them bad I know that now.

I had a friend in high school but he wanted to be more than friends and I just strung him along fo so long and now he's dead and I can't tell him anything anymore.  I felt so bad and now I'm being nice to every nice guy I can to say I'm sorry.

Please please please please please please please please write back, just so I know you got this.

Love to you and all nice guys everywhere,
Greta

You Could Be a Star, Kid

E-mail Submitted by Nicole:

I'm a fun-loving guy who likes finding creative ways to enjoy the finer things in life.  A nice dinner, a ride in a great car, a show, a moonlit stroll, I can do them all, and I know great places for each.  I'm like a one-stop fun shop!

You seem like you'd be a classic fit for a guy like me: you're beautiful, full-mouthed, and gorgeous.  The fact that you like amusement parks and travel is good too.  We'd be able to do a lot of that together.

I like long showers, being in dark places, and checking out scary things.  Scary caves, scary people, and even scary things between the sheets, know what I mean ;).....

I know some guys in Hollywood.  I think you could be a potential acress!  Don't go putting all your hopes up, but if you play your cards right we can maybe go to Hollywood together, try some things out.  I know men and women out there, and they're all beautiful, nubile people.

This is just a little taste...... if you'd want to suck down more, then there's plenty for you.  Of course, if you choose to be an UGLY WHORE then there's nothing I can do for you.

Your choice.

Warmly,
Reggie

That Thing She Does with Her Tongue

Story Submitted by Henry:

Donna showed up for our date with a red, flaky patch all over her lower face and mouth.  Her online photos bore no images of this condition, so I was a little surprised.  However, I figured that it might have been a sudden, temporary medical problem, and I wasn't about to fault her on it.

A couple of times, not long after we sat down, she did this thing with her tongue in which she'd stick it all the way out, lick all the way around her mouth, jostle the skin flakes along the way, and slip it back in, between her lips.  It was impossible to miss, and it didn't strike me as something that would be good for her condition.  Still, she made no mention of it, and neither did I.

It became a distraction when she was in the middle of telling me something and stopped, sometimes mid-word, to do it.  She also made a noise when she did it.  Example:

She'd say, "I grew up with two dogs, and one of th..." tongue out, lick all the way around, "Unnnnnnghhaa," tongue back in, "...them was a greyhound.  The other was a red setter."

"I double-majored in psychology and math.  I wanted..."  Tongue out, "Unnnngghaa," tongue in, "I wanted to work in nonprofit development."

I wanted so badly for her to stop that, and it was difficult, at best, to stay silent about it.

After dinner, we went to a coffee house, and I offered to buy her a drink.  She sat down and I went up to the counter.  While I waited for our drinks to be made, I looked back at the table to see her swirling her tongue around her face like a greedy child trying to lick the last smudge of ice cream out of a sundae cup.  People at other tables glanced at her.  She seemed to take no notice.  I wanted her to stop.

Her face was mostly fire-engine red by the time I made it back to the table, and she had a small forest of skin flakes.  I couldn't take it anymore.

I asked, "Are you okay?"

She said, "Yeah.  Why?"

I said, "It looks like you might be breaking out a bit."

"My face feels a little dry.  Do I have a rash?"  She took out a compact and opened it.  I was expecting her to scream when she saw her face.  I braced.

She studied herself for a moment, closed the compact, and said, "Sometimes I get a little dry.  I'm on some new medication, so I'm just waiting for it to kick in.  Why hang up my life about it?"

I liked her answer so much that I toasted her mug with mine.  We didn't end up romantically involved, but we're still friends.  Her face has even cleared up since then.

I Dated a Time Lord

Story Submitted by Brenda:

Max messaged me online, we progressed to phone calls, and he finally asked me out.

He told me to meet him at 110 Iroquois Lane in Wexford.  When I was in my car and punched the address into my GPS, it came back as nonexistent.  I figured that he had made a mistake and so I called him up and left a message.

He texted back.  "Can't pick up.  Just get here," then followed up with, "Just get here" twice more.

I texted back, "There is no 110 Iroquois in Wexford.  Is that the right address?"

No response.  I tried calling once more, but I didn't leave a message.  As I had no idea where he wanted me to go, I didn't go anywhere, and I ended up ordering in Chinese that night.

I wrote him a message the next day, as nice as possible, telling him that I wasn't too impressed with the way he had handled things, although I would wait to hear his explanation.

No explanation came, but a week later (yes, a week), he texted back, "110 Iroquois, Wexford.  Just get here."

I didn't respond.  Not even when he sent me another text, left a voicemail, and wrote me an e-mail explaining that he was trapped in a "timerip" (his word) for the past week due to an inter-dimensional battle, but that he still really wanted to meet up for drinks.

She'll Leave You Breathless

Story Submitted by George:

I had a friend, Kayla, who had been dating another woman, Alana, for three months.  We hung out together a few times in groups of mutual friends, but it seemed as though Alana was taking more and more of an interest in me.

This was confirmed when we were all at a bar and I went outside for a cigarette.  Alana followed me out.  I offered her a cigarette and she said that she didn't smoke, but she took my hand and pressed it to her face.

She said, "I want to go somewhere alone with you."

I asked, "What about Kayla?"

She said, "We won't be long."

We walked until we found a quiet side street with a small playground.  She said, "You are so fucking hot.  You know that?"

She had been drinking.  Both of us had, but she more so.  Way more so.

I said, "We should head back.  Kayla's going to wonder where you are."

"Fuck Kayla," she said, leaning closer, "Oh wait... I do... and she's really bad at it."  She laughed.

Kayla had been a friend of mine for a while, and I wasn't about to betray her.  Much as I wanted to grab Alana in my arms, I didn't.  I stepped away.

She grabbed the collar of my shirt, pulled me off-balance, and choked me with her hands.

I ripped away from her and ran off, back to the bar.

She didn't come back.  I didn't tell Kayla what had happened, but figured that I'd probably have to, as Alana might have decided to mention something to her.

Alana broke up with Kayla the next day.

I'm not sure how Alana found my e-mail address, but I received a message from her that could only be rivaled in length by a Russian novel.  I didn't read most of it, but it was mostly her life story, blaming drugs, former girlfriends, former boyfriends, her family, her medication, her dog, her teachers, he classmates, everyone for the way that she was.

It screamed loneliness, and the parts I read made me feel bad for her, but not bad enough to write back.

What Happens in Canada

Story Submitted by Karlie:

Tim was a guy I worked with. We flirted, we clicked, and it seemed like we could have chemistry. Living in upstate New York, he asked me out to dinner at a restaurant across the border in Canada. He'd never been to the restaurant, but had heard good things. I had never been to Canada before, and I accepted, assuming that it would be a nice night.

Tim picked me up on time and we got across the border and to the restaurant with no problem.

Things were going great until the waiter came to take our drink order. When he looked at me, his face was a mix of horror and disgust.  He shouted, "How the hell did you find me? Did you track my IP address? Are you stalking me?"

I replied, quite bewildered, with, "I'm sorry, but I don't know you."

He yelled back, "Like hell you don't! Stop playing this game! How did you find out where I work?"

I racked my brain, but the waiter's face was totally unfamiliar to me. As I'd never been to Canada before in my life, I was fairly certain I'd never met him.

Before I could say anything, the waiter continued, "Now that I have you here in person, I can tell you how ugly you are. You're disgustingly hideous, and no makeup or plastic surgery can ever make you beautiful. Never!"

He turned to Tim and said, "And you were an idiot for marrying her. But you're just as ugly as she is, so I bet you had no other options."

For the record, Tim and I were not married, and Tim was better looking than the waiter by a mile.

The waiter carried on with, "And you're both total losers, living with her parents because you're some brain-dead soldier who doesn't know how to make a decent dollar."

Once again, for the record, my parents live in California, and I haven't lived with them since high school. Tim was never in the military.

The entire restaurant was fixated on the scene. The manager came over and asked what was going on. Tim and I, both utterly confused, said that we had no idea. He turned to the waiter and said, "You're fired.  Get out."

On his way out, the waiter yelled, "I'll get you, you ugly bitch! I'll find you and I'll kill you!"

The manager apologized profusely and offered us a free meal. Though, after that ordeal, Tim and I politely declined and decided to scrap the date. We were both confused and shaken, and wanted to get the hell out of Canada.

"Yes. So I Can Go Touch More Vaginas."

Story Submitted by Albert:

In college, I met Lexy while in the library, studying for finals. She was on her own, at a table, and I thought that she was the most beautiful woman I'd seen at the school. Everything about her made me want to know her, but being shy, it took me a good half hour to work up the nerve to talk to her.

When I did, she gave me such a great smile that I forgot why I had greeted her in the first place. I sat down at her table and spilled everything: how I had watched her, how she made me feel, everything that I thought would frighten her away.

To my amazement, she listened to all of my rambling and at the end she said, "You are so cute."

I nearly puked from anxiety. I did it. I asked her out. It was the greatest feeling I had ever had.

I took her out to dinner at a nice Japanese place near the university, and from the beginning, she seemed very interested in me. All the while, I couldn't believe that she didn't have a boyfriend.

"I've had two boyfriends," she said, "Both of whom were lying, selfish, and cheaters. I've had to do a lot of growing up."

She asked me a lot about my own romantic life. A lot. She asked me not only about my previous girlfriends, but how far we had gone, if I was in love with them, and details about their vaginas (I'm not joking).

I was in college, a candid person by nature, and at the time, I saw no harm in Lexy's questions. Even when she asked, "Would you have sex with them again if you had the chance?"

To that question, I thought, she's being candid and honest with me, so she deserves the same. I told her, "Maybe, if I wasn't in an exclusive relationship at the time."

She said, "I'm not letting you out of my sight, then."

After dinner, I had it in mind to take a walk around the neighborhood and through the quads. It was a nice walk, and she took my arm and rested her head on my shoulder. "Finally," I can remember thinking, "A real, grown-up relationship."

We ended our walk at the campus church. I was ready to say goodnight. She wasn't.

She asked, "We can go back to your place, right?"

Sounded good to me. She added, "We're just going to cuddle."

So we spent the night of our first date cuddling in my bed. The next day, I had booked out for studying. When I told her that in the morning, she said, "I'll come with you. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

So she spent the day studying with me. I had plans that night with friends, but I called and cancelled. We cuddled again that night. And the next. Since our date, we hadn't been apart from each other.

I had plans with another group of friends that weekend, and I didn't want to miss them. When I told Lexy, she asked, "Who are these friends? Are there any girls there?"

I told her that there would be and she said, "Then you're not going."

When I told her that I didn't think that she had anything to worry about, she yanked at her hair, screamed, and swung her fists. She yelled, "You're not going! I say you're not going!"

It wasn't up to her, and I grew pretty tired of her behavior, so I told her that I had to go study and preferred to do it alone.

She said, "Why? So you can go touch more vaginas?"

I'll never forget my response.  I thought for a moment and said, "Yes.  So I can go touch more vaginas."

She flipped out.  I never want a woman that mad at me again.  No matter that I repeated, "I was kidding" over and over.  She seemed intent on throwing a mega-tantrum.  I tried to gently guide her out of my place, but she slapped my hands away.

I yelled, "Get out or I'll call the police!"

She said, "Call them!  I'll tell them you hit me."

I called them.  She took off.  I gave them a statement.  They told me not to worry as apparently, this wasn't her first run-in with them.  They advised me to keep away from her, which I did to the best of my ability for the term.

It wasn't my last run-in with her, but eventually, everything ended just fine.  For me, at least.

How Much Thought Do You Think Went Into This?

E-mail Submitted by Paige:

Hello.

I'm not sure how to write one of these things, but here goes: I was trying to figure out how to start one of these messages, but I came up blank.  How does one write an opening to a stranger? 

I could begin by telling you all about me, but that would be narcissistic.  I could ask you questions about you, but that would be too eager.  I could talk about something non-related to either of us, but then what would be the point to me writing in the first place!

I've never been very good at introductions.  I never know what to say.  How is the weather?  No, that's too straight.  Do you wear thongs?  No, that's too personal.  When did you lose your virginity?  That's way too personal.  Some sort of happy medium would suffice, I think.  I'm strapped for ideas, though.

I could talk about this site itself and discuss it at length.  That's something we both have in common.  We're both on the same site, aren't we?  What do you think of this site?  Is that a good first question?  What brought you to the site?  That might be a bit too personal, as what brought you to the site might have been a breakup.  That's what brought me to this site.  A breakup.  A bad breakup.

Want to know more?  Ask away.

Kindly,
Brad

Did I Mention I was Rich?

E-mail Submitted by Kelly:

Let me start off by saying that I'm rich.

Now that I have your attewntion, you should write me back. You're a fine lady, but looks aren't everything and you know it.  Why don't you give a guy like me a chance.

If we were workers working in the same cafeteria or college students in person, I'd have a much easier time approaching you because then we'd be in person with each other.  Over the web, you have time to stop, take your time, evaluate, it just isn't real anymore.  Does ot that bug you?  It bugs me

I have had girlfriends in the past who have made me do all sorts of things to hold the relationship together.  One time I balanced on a fence (with the help of a laundry line) for an hour outside a girl's window.  The girl was my girlfriend and she was seeing another guy and I balanced and saw them in her bedroom and I stopped them.  I don't wait, I take, and that's just who I am ?

Maybe we could have something special maybe not but you're on here to meet people and if you don't meet me you won't be meeting me, so why be on here if you won't meet me?  Ha!

Nick

The Winner at Dinner

Story Submitted by Ali:

Trey and I interned at a congresswoman's office together and we hooked up a few times before he asked me out on an actual date.

"I know this great place," he told me, over and over, "It'll blow your mind."  He built up our date destination so much, that I couldn't help but be a little skeptical as to whether or not he would deliver.

The day of, he asked me to meet him at his friend Will's home.  I thought it unusual, but guessed that maybe he would already be at Will's house and that Trey and I would head out from there to wherever our mystery destination was.

I made it to Will's house and Trey met me at the door.  He invited me in.

I asked, "Shouldn't we be heading to dinner?"

He said, "We are."

He opened a basement door and motioned for me to go inside.  I shook my head.  "No way.  What's going on?"

He explained, "Nothing bad.  I promise you'll love it.  Will and I spent all afternoon setting it up."

Will himself came up the basement steps.  He was dressed in a full suit and tie and introduced himself.  I asked Trey, "What's going on?"

Trey said, "Will and I built a little restaurant set-up, downstairs, just for our date.  He's going to be the waiter.  We cooked and everything."

He led me into the kitchen where indeed, things were cooking.  I thought the whole setup unusual at best, but I had to give Trey credit for ingenuity.

Still, I had my reservations.  I said, "Can we have dinner up here, in the dining room, instead of down in the basement?  I'd feel better about that."

Trey said, "We spent all afternoon on cleaning up the downstairs.  We even made a restaurant thing with a window, tables, and chairs."

I said, "Maybe we'll go there for dessert."

He was down about it, but Will said, "The customer is always right," and ushered us to our seats in the dining room.

Trey was sullen, and I did my best to explain to him why it was weird for a girl to go into a basement with two guys, one of whom she had only just met.

Trey said nothing.

Will served us some squash soup for our first course.  Trey pushed it away from himself, saying, "I'm not hungry."

I tried some, and it was good.  I asked Trey who did most of the cooking, himself or Will.

In reply, Trey extended his arms at me and screamed, "Rape!"

I jumped back and stared at him.  He lowered his arms, shrugged, pushed his soup bowl off the table, where it shattered on the floor, and stood up.

Still looking at me, he yelled, "Will, I'm heading out," and left the room – and apparently the house.

Will arrived shortly thereafter and asked what had happened.  I told him, and he asked for my help in cleaning up the broken bowl and soup.

Will said that Trey could sometimes be a little strange, and then he asked me if I wanted to have dinner with him instead.  Will had done all of the cooking, and I wasn't about to turn down a home-cooked meal just because of one idiot, so he and I had dinner together right there in his dining room.

Will and I ended up being good friends, although things are a little weird whenever Trey hangs out with us in a group.

Who Is Hungry? Bear Is Hungry.

E-mail Submitted by Steve:

Hello:

You may not know me but you look a lot like a guy I went to high school with.  One time, he told everyone in my class who my secret crush was.  Another time he took my lunch and threw it against the wall for no reason.  Another time he drew a horrible picture f me on the board and the teacher left it on the board for the whole class.

He tried to break into my locker he said I should get eaten by bear (our high school mascot) and he said I was fat.

I hate him and because you look like him I'm sorry but FUCK YOU.

FUCK YOU,
MaryAnn

Daddy, Say it Ain't So

Story Submitted by Jacques:

Helen and I were in a community play together and started spending time together after rehearsals.  We kissed a couple of times, but nothing much more than that.  Life happened, as it sometimes does, she became busy, I became busy, and we stopped seeing each other as often.

The play went on, we put on a great show, we promised to stay in touch with each other, and that could've been that.

Over a year after the show, she called me out of the blue to meet and "discuss something important."

We met in person at a mall and we sat down in a food court.  She handed me her phone, where she had photos of a newborn baby.

"It's mine," she said, "And yours."

This was impossible, as we had never even taken each other's clothes off, much less had sex.  I reminded her of this and she said, "You were the only guy I've even messed around with in the  past two years, and I gave birth to Jenny about nine months after we were getting to know each other.  She has to be yours."

"She isn't."

"She has to be."

"Want me to take a paternity test?"

"Yes."

I couldn't believe that this was happening, but I made a deal with her that if it turned out that I wasn't the father, she would pay for the test, and if I was, then I would.  She asked me to pay the fee upfront, but I insisted that she pay it.  I promised to reimburse her completely if she was correct, and I even wrote out a contract.

We visited a clinic and I had them put a rush on it (for a substantial extra fee), as I wanted this out of my hair as soon as possible.

While we waited for the results, Helen called me up constantly, asking me to "come over and spend time with our daughter," or "look at the new photos of our little bundle of joy that I e-mailed you."

Very long story short, I wasn't the father.  I wrote Helen a "good luck" e-mail and I never heard from her again.  Perhaps Jenny was a virgin birth, and I was witness to a miracle.  More importantly, she wasn't mine.

King of Hearts

Story Submitted by Emma:

I met Derek at a party that some musician friends of mine were having.  He played some songs for us on acoustic guitar, and I was close to smitten.  Trouble was, I was also really shy.

It didn't end up mattering, as a mutual friend introduced us after his set.  I felt like I made an idiot out of myself, mumbling, stammering, and doing everything wrong.  Derek, though, didn't seem to notice, or he was at least kind enough to ignore it.  It felt great to have his attention, and I don't remember feeling that way too often before.

I gave him my number and he promised to call.  Call he did, and we scheduled a date.

It was a dreamy night, from what I can remember.  He took me out to a sidewalk bistro, we went stargazing, and he kissed me. 

I told my friend about it by phone afterward, and she said, "I'm happy for you.  What does Derek's girlfriend think about it?"

Derek had a girlfriend who went to college in the next state.  He saw her on weekends.  From what I was told, they were very much exclusive, but I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.  Maybe my friend had some details wrong.  Maybe Derek and his girlfriend had broken up recently and my friend didn't know it.

My second time out with Derek, he took me out for a picnic.  Soon after we sat down, I asked him about it point blank.  He asked, "What do you want me to do?  Choose one or the other?  I'm not married to her."

I said, "That's not the point.  Are you exclusive?"

He said, "We're not married, so no."

"But are you in an exclusive relationship?"

He reached into his pocket and slammed something down on my thigh.

A condom.

He said, "This was going to be for you, today.  Now I'm not so sure if I want to use it."

I thought for a moment and said, "Derek, you can still use it."

He took it off of me and said, "Good."

And I finished, "On yourself."  I left him there, but he wasn't done.  He chased after me and stopped me.  He asked, "What's the problem?  I'm seeing her, I'm seeing four other people.  What does it matter?  I'm not married.  I can do what I want."

I said, "But does your girlfriend know that you're not exclusive?"

He said, "If she did, then she wouldn't be my girlfriend anymore."

I said, "I can't do this.  I'm sorry.  Please leave me alone."

"I really want to fuck you," he said.

"I know," I replied, and continued on my way, heartbroken, but at least not involved with any kind of relationship with a dishonest guy like him.

They Call Him 'Ol Chest Craters

E-mail Submitted by Robin:

Hellooooo,

I love what I’ve read, and seen.  Would you like to earn some money $$$ while you study with your books, do homework, read a novel, sew, knit, listen to music, smoke a cigarette (if u do), etc)?

I will lie on the floor and you rest your feet on my chest wearing high spike heels (like a padded foot-rest). Yes, a little unusual, but once you get use to it, you won't even know I am there. ABSOLUTELY nothing else will happen - just love the feel of nice spike heels on me. Please be a dress size 6 or less. Please be a naturally born female. This is for real, not a gimmick for whatever - just for business & fun: I don’t want to date, no relationships, no hanky-panky, nothing weird, etc. This will only work if you really have something to keep you occupied.

Best,
Jacob

Push Me, Pull You

Story Submitted by Frank:

Ellen was at a party that I friend of mine threw, and she and I ended up talking for a while.  She was really smart and we were both curious about each other, and so I asked her if she wanted to continue the conversation over a date.

She said that she wasn't looking to date, but would be fine with going out as friends.  I'll admit that I was a little disappointed, but it was okay.

We talked on the phone every couple of days for the ensuing two weeks, as she didn't have a spare night until then.  She began bringing up her exes and her relationships with them and the troubles she had and the sex she had and the arguments she had and the sex she had...

I played the part of concerned friend, but it became less and less attractive to me.  Our conversations about everything else were good, but our conversations about anything else were happening fewer.

The night of the non-date, the restaurant host sat us in a booth.  She slid in next to me on my side, which was a little unusual.  I asked her if she'd mind moving over to the other side, as I'd be able to converse with her easier that way.

She grumbled at that, but she did it.  What was weird about the whole thing was that she hardly said a word the entire time.  She was like a completely different, shy, non-talkative person.  I know that in-person, people can be different from how they are over the phone, but this was night and day.

Somehow or other, I had it in my head that she was upset about something, so I asked her if everything was okay.  She said, "You haven't tried to flirt with me once."

I said, "You're not looking for a relationship.  Why would I?"

She said, "I'm brilliant and attractive.  That's why."

I said, "Okay, then.  You're looking hot tonight.  How was that?"

"It was shit.  Say something like you mean it."

I said, "That's a nice blouse," and I brushed her arm.

"Better," she said.

For the rest of that uncomfortable dinner, I slid in the occasional flirt and she seemed pacified.  I had no way of knowing, of course, since she hardly ever said a word.

After dinner, I offered to take her out someplace else or go for a walk. 

She asked, "Aren't you going to try to feel me up?"

It dawned on me that while she may not have been looking for a relationship, she might have been just looking for a roll in the hay.  I took her for a walk and when it seemed like no one was around, I went in to kiss her.

She shoved me away.  "Stay away from me!" she said.

I asked, "Didn't you want me to try to feel you up?"

She said, "Keyword was 'try.'  I didn't want you to actually touch me.  Asshole.  You can't just go around touching people."

We finished our walk, I said goodnight, and we went our separate ways, forever and ever.

Disturbing the Disturbed

Story Submitted by Arianna:

Ryan was just out of a long-term relationship, and he warned me ahead of the date that he'd be a little down and "not responsible for his actions."  Uh-huh.

I tried to be understanding, but when a guy mentions his past relationship in nearly every conversation, maybe he should consider taking a bit more time before starting to date again.

I picked out the place for dinner, but we never made it there.  A little over an hour before, he called to ask if I'd meet him at his house, as he said that he needed help with something.

It was a little shady, I'll admit, but we had been talking for a month, and my intuition – and the mace in my purse – told me that he was harmless.  In retrospect, no, I shouldn't have gone there.

His front door was open and I walked in.  I guessed that it was a house that he shared with a few other people, judging by the state of things.  He called to me from upstairs, and I went up to find him.

I opened a slightly ajar door to find him in a fetal position on a rug on the floor, staring out the window.

From the doorway, I asked him if he was okay.  In response, he hit his head twice on the floor, shuddered, stood up, and said, "It was important for you to see that.  Ready for dinner?"

I didn't mention that he was shirtless and sported a pair of jeans, one leg of which was of normal length, the other of which was cut off mid-thigh.  He made no move to change his outfit.  He was ready to go out just like that.

"Want to change?" I asked him.

He looked down, as if realizing what he was wearing for the first time, then looked out the window again, then asked me, "You want to go out back?  I think I have a really big drum."

I told him that I was going to head out, and I left the room.

When I made it to the bottom of the steps, he called to me from the top of the staircase: "Think I can jump down all of these at once?"

I replied, "Not without killing yourself."

He nodded, and I turned and left.  I was afraid that I'd hear a loud thump behind me.  I didn't.

How Soon Can You Be Here?

E-mail Submitted by Cheri:

hi how r u? i read your profile it is match to me first I,am 32 young never married slim with black hair 68 kg 5 ,9 fit and single  i live alone,i do not have any permanent job i,am from asia it is called NEPAL, KATHMANDU it is small and beautyfull country but i do not like my country because it is bore with out job,i,am not dark i,am not very white i,m middle color of person you can see my picture

well i,am telling you this is all because i,like aged foreigner woman because they  are educated they know about life  or many more about successfull life. so i see you picture it was so sexy and nice i really like you.but i need to know you like me or not? i do not care age honey i care your heart  what do you have inside like that,i,am looking for woman who can like me love give satisfy about sex and other, because i,am very sexy i do not have any girlfriend this is why i aalways satisfy by masturbation. so i will stop this when i find you.

so i like to be there in your country forever with you as a permanent boyfriend or husband ,it is totally your choice write me?

after i will star some job in your country any general job and  i will earn money for you and me. so can you please send me the sponsor letter through my mailling address i will give you later if you like? if you like to share some your feeelings so you  can send by email.

i,am serious person i do not like to play game this is why i hve choosen you for long term relationship honey i,am not like man of your country they just like sex or injoy after no relation that is not life i do not care about your past.but our future would be joyfull i will try ..and i do not like to be father.  please answer me what kind of person are you looking for?

Your young friend
MR SANTOSH KATHMANDU NEPAL

Inspector Jilted Is on the Case!

Story Submitted by Richard:

I met Sia on a dating site and we went out to eat for our date.  It was meant to be just dinner, because afterward I had plans to meet up with a small group of friends.  I had explained this to Sia, and she claimed to understand my words.  I thought that the date went well, and I was excited to learn more about her.

I called my friends after dinner, and all of them bailed except for one, Adina, who I met up with nearby.  We did coffee, took a walk, hugged goodbye, and that was my friendly meet-up with Adina.

I called Sia the next day and there was no answer.  I left a voicemail.  She didn't reach out to me at all.

Just to be safe, though, I called her again a week later.  She picked up with a, "What?"

I was confused, as I remembered a positive experience from the date.  I told her that I just wanted to be sure that she received my first voicemail and that I had a good time with her.

She replied, "You're a fucking liar.  I watched you with that other girl right after our date.  You were with her for hours.  You said that you were going out with friends, you fucking liar."

I explained the situation to her, or tried to, because she shouted over my words with variously-colored language.  At one point, she said, "I saw you kiss her!"

That was a blatant lie.  I had never done any such thing.  I said, "Now who's the liar?" and hung up.

She called me right back.  I picked up and asked, "Calling to apologize?"  She went right back into screaming and stomping, and I hung up on her again, for the last time.

The Surprise Wasn't in the Trunk, After All

Story Submitted by Amy:

Jack came across as a guy who was all together.  He had a good job, said that he had a good relationship with his family, and was very nice to me, at first.

There was a park that was easy walking distance from my house, and he said that he'd pick me up from there for our date.

He drove up in a new-looking Buick and I climbed in.  He leaned in to kiss me, and I gave him my cheek.  He said, "I got a surprise for you," jumped out of the car, and opened his trunk.

He was back there for a while when I heard him mumbling an expletive or two.  I called back, "Is everything all right?"

He didn't respond, but I knew that something was wrong.  I jumped out of the car, and he poked his head away from the trunk and toward me.  "Get back in the car," he said, "I'll be back inside in a sec."

I asked him if I could help him find whatever he was looking for, and he said, "No.  Get back in the car."

I did, and I waited another five minutes before jumping out of the car again. 

"What did I say?" he barked.

I said, "I'm tired of waiting.  If you forgot it, I don't care.  Let's just go on our date."

"Get back in the fucking car!" he yelled.

He continued to rummage through the trunk, throwing things onto the ground and cursing more and more.  I opened the car door and shut it, but I didn't climb in.  Instead, I took off.  He didn't see me leave, as his face was buried in the mess that I guessed was within his trunk.

Luckily, I had never given him my number (we communicated through e-mail only) and I was able to block him as soon as I made it back home.

Sneezy and Bashful

Story Submitted by Eddie:

Jess was a girl I met online a few years ago.  I don't remember much about her, but I do recall how the date ended.

We were out at a sidewalk cafe and talking about something or other when a sudden sneeze came on and I sneezed violently into her face.

She jumped out of her seat, yelled something, and wiped her face with a napkin.

As for me, my nose was drenched.  I apologized about 50 times, wiped off my nose as best as I could, and excused myself to go to the bathroom.

When I came back, she was gone, gone, gone.

Sorry, Jess.  Wherever you are.

I Can Guess Why You Never Found Much Happiness With It

E-mail Submitted by Angie:

SO THINK FAST ---about me I look like Seal when I'm nude, I kiss like Dicaprio and I made it once with megan fox.... SIKE!!!!

I'm a self made man with simple wants and desires.  I see on your profile that you like movies and music - as do I.  All in all we have a LOT in common but it doesn't end there......

We both went to college, we're both into movies and music, and BOTH OF OUR NAMES START WITH THE LETTER A.  HOLY FUCK CALL RIPLEY'S.

Hi, IIm Andrew.  I'm not really like this, the way I wrote myself above.  I know what you're thinking: "Another guy, another liar/cheater/abuser" but hear me out and realize that I truly want to UNDERSTAND you and your feelings.  I'm not just out for a quick lay.  I tried it, never found much happiness with it.  This is me now.  Maybe I was like one of those guys once, but I'm not anymore.

Do I sound desperate?  I mean to sound honest.  HONESTY is sorely lacking in people today, and I'm a one man crusade to bring it back.  You are beautiful and I want you near me........

To us,
Andrew

Grown Ups

Story Submitted by April:

Colin and I met in kindergarten and we went to elementary school together until his family moved away in seventh grade.  He was always very special to me because I used to be one of the fat girls in the class, and he was one of my only friends back then.

Thanks to the magic of the Internet, I found him about a year ago and wouldn't you know it, he lived relatively close by!  Throw the fact that he had grown into an attractive man and the fact that he wasn't married into the mix, and you had a recipe for something potentially special.

The first thing he said to me when we met up was, "Damn, you look good."  He was taller than I had remembered, and was in a suit.  He was an attorney now, and was working in a practice.

He took me to an extremely ritzy restaurant, ordered an expensive bottle of wine, and pointed out items on the menu that he recommended, all vegetarian things.

I asked, "How's the chicken in champagne sauce?"

He said, "You don't want that.  Don't want to get fat again."

I thought I had misheard him.  I must have.  I asked, "Come again?"

He stared at me for an uncomfortable few moments, then smiled and brushed it off, "I was just kidding."

I took my prior weight problems with a healthy dose of good humor, but he hadn't said it in a "kidding" way.  Still, everything else about him was great.  What if I had just misread his intent?  The wine came and he poured it for us.

After a few minutes, though, it became clear that he seemed pretty intent on discussing my body.  He asked me how I had lost my weight, if everyone asked me if I had liposuction (I hadn't - I'm all diet and exercise), if I felt that my personality had changed as a result of not being fat anymore... it was non-stop and a little overboard.

Finally, I asked him, "Can we talk about something else?"

He said, "If we have kids, they'll get the fat gene from you.  It's inherited through the mother."

I didn't say anything.

He nailed his coffin shut by taking some of my wine and pouring it into his own glass.  "Alcohol makes you fat," he said.  Then, in response to my stare, he said, "What?  I'm helping you."

Selecting my words carefully, I said, "I think we should talk about something else."

He said, "I'm paying for dinner," which made no sense.  Because you're paying for dinner, I have to sit here and listen to your repeated attempts to be offensive?

It was a shame that a guy I had such fond memories of and who had grown into some sort of success had become such an asshole.  I gave him one more chance, and poured the wine he had taken from me back into my glass, with the intent of changing the subject right after.

He took my glass and spat in it, then swirled it around.  That was all I needed.  I left then and there.  Let someone else put up with his antics.  At least some of us have grown up since kindergarten.

Find the Secret Message

E-mail Submitted by Sandra:

Hi Sandra,

While I grew up in Tampa, I couldn't wait to get out.  I've been in LA since college and aside from occasional visits to family and friends who weren't as lucky to escape, I'm a California guy through and through.

I've performed at a bunch (if six is a bunch) of playhouses in the area.  I had two lead roles this year, and there are a lot of great auditions coming up.  and all over your tits.  Do you see plays a lot?  You might have seen something that I was in.

How often do you get out of the city?  I like it here more than most, but I'll never turn down a chance to visit the backcountry.  Ever been up north?

Bye again,
Kyle

Stood Up and Counted

Story Submitted by Drew:

In college, I met Jenna in a biology class.  We worked together on a few labs, I always made her laugh, and eventually I worked up the nerve to ask her out.

The night of the date, I had planned for us to meet in the main quad and walk to dinner.  She was about 20 minutes late when I called her.  No answer.

After a ten more minutes, I called again.  Someone who was not Jenna picked up.  I asked if Jenna was coming to meet me.

The woman on the phone said that Jenna was in the shower "and probably won't be out for a long time... if you know what I mean."

Of course I did.  It meant that Jenna was standing me up.  I asked to speak to Jenna, but the woman (who identified herself as a roommate) said that it probably wouldn't be a good idea.  So I hung up and went off to have dinner with some friends instead.

I figured that would be all, but that next Tuesday morning, before afternoon bio lab, where I'd be seeing Jenna again, she called me.

She asked, "Where are you?"

"In my room."

She said, "I'm waiting for you.  We're doing lunch before class."

This was strange.  We hadn't made any plans.  I said, "I have a paper to finish and I'm seeing a friend for lunch before lab."

"So you're standing me up?"

What a weird thing for her to say.  I said, "That implies that we had made plans and one of us backed out.  Like last week, for example."

She screamed, "Don't you fucking bring up last week!"

I shouted over her, "Remember, when you stood me up?  We made no plans for today and I'm busy and I have things to do that are more important than fuck around with you."

"I'm coming to you.  Right now.  We'll settle this.  I know where you live."

That was my cue to hang up, lock the door, and leave.  I found a hidden spot in the library where I finished my paper in peace. 

When I was about to pack up for lunch, she texted me, "Are you going to lunch with a girl?"

I was, but I didn't think that Jenna needed to know that.  I ignored her message, but she texted me a few more times, having a lively conversation with herself:

"It's a girl, isn't it?"

"What's it like to be a man-whore?"

"You are such an asshole."

"Call me."

She didn't show up to bio lab that afternoon.  I worked with another group that day and for the rest of the semester.

Perhaps, But Perhaps Not

E-mail Submitted by Emily:

Do you believe in love?

I do.

Do you believe in love at first sight?

I do.

Who writes to you speaking words of love?

I do.

My name is Chad and I am a bard of love.  It's so very important to me to have LOVE as my primary focus in life as it should be in everyone's life.  Your profile screams LOVE LOVE LOVE to me and I can do nothing but think of it all day.

I've been told that I come on too strong, but answer me truthfully, does LOVE come on too strong?  People have fought for it armies have died for it and millions sing songs of it.  It holds us together, binds us, and is truly the only thing that all people have in common.  LOVE LOVE LOVE.

I would LOVE to learn more about you and your own story of LOVE.  Perhaps we might share LOVE. 

LOVE,
Chad

Raging at the Fates

E-mail Submitted by Donnie:

We dated a year ago and you were really nice to me and I had a nice time with you and you bailed.  I never heard from you agian.  For the longest time I missed you and wonderd if you just forgot my email address and so I sent you a few emails to see if you'd respond and you didn't.

I'm wondering why you didn't.  We had a great time and you were really nice to me and I don't get what went wrong.  I felt a real connection between us and I know that you shouldn't just ignore conenctions.  This is why I wrote to the head of this site and asked them to block your account.  I just don't think that people should be allowed to treat other people that way.

So if your account closes down then it's because of me.  Sorry but maybe you'll treat someone like me right in the future... sorry again.


******************************
Donnie adds: I swear that I never met this girl in my life.  I have no idea who she is.  This message was sent six months ago and my account is still operational on the site.

What Grunts Beneath

Story Submitted by Andrea:

Tyler and I had a good dinner and there was definitely mutual attraction there.  I forgot his exact words, but at one point he asked me about my "boyfriend."  I said that I didn't have a boyfriend, otherwise it would be weird that we were out on a date.  He changed the subject to something else, and I forgot all about it.

After the meal, we took a walk through a park and near some quiet downtown streets.

He took my hand, we walked close, he smelled good, and all of a sudden, I found that I wanted nothing more than to embrace him.

He felt the same thing.  He pressed me up against the side of a building, and I pulled him close to me and we kissed.  He was nibbling down my neck when he said, "When will your boyfriend be home?"

It dawned on me that Tyler was acting out a fantasy, only he had forgotten to tell me about it.  The idea of cheating on a boyfriend didn't turn me on, though, so I said, "I don't have a boyfriend."

"Yes, you do," he said, and made it back to my mouth.

I ducked away slightly, and I told him that I just wanted to make out without any fantasies.  At least, this time.

He said, "That's the only way I can get off."

I replied, "Well, it's a turn-off for me."  As far as I was concerned, we instantly discovered that we were sexually incompatible, and therefore likely completely incompatible, as far as a relationship went.

Tyler, though, wasn't as convinced as I was.  He kissed me again, then hovered down to my chest.  "How often does your boyfriend play with these?" he asked.

I stepped away, towards the street.  "Tyler, I can't do this."

He groaned and repeated that he couldn't get off unless we played that way.  He said, "Do you want me to not get off, here?"

Classy, Tyler.  I asked him if he could possibly get off maybe by just thinking about it, rather than vocalizing anything.  He said that if I responded, he'd be 100% more likely to orgasm.

It was a shame, because I liked him, but it just didn't seem workable that his biggest turn-on was one of my biggest turn-offs. 

I suggested that we were better off staying friends, and before I finished what I was saying, he kissed me again and asked, "Has your boyfriend ever kissed you like that?"

I pushed away, said good night, and walked off.  I don't know what I would have done if he had followed me, but luckily, he didn't.

Fix This Quick

E-mail Submitted by Stefan:

i like ur profile but i dont know if ur a man or a woman.  u need better pics!!!!!!!

Love,
Lia

Men and Wymyn

E-mail Submitted by Maria:

Good day.

I am a gentleman in search of a lady.  Most of your gender is soulless, greedy, selfish, and has no idea how to treat a man, all under the guise of "being a lady."  That stops with me.

I have zip, zero, zilch, nada, nothing, nadie, NO tolerance for women who are any of the following: contemptible, mean, nasty, obnoxious, unkind, or just plain "evil."

The very fact that I'm messaging you means that I have a belief, tempered by long years of experience, that you can rise above the pitiful examples of your fellow women (or "wymyn" if you're one of those pagans) and be a choice lifemate. 

Please keep in mind that this offer has a limit - both regarding my patience as well as within the time-based constructs of this, our world.  I will wait precisely 30 hours (generous indeed!) from your receipt of this message for your response.  If no response is given, then you have lost your chance.  I'm sorry that I cannot accept "I didn't have a chance to check my email!" as an excuse.  You know what to do.

Yours,
Roger

It's Not a Real Date Unless You Break a Couple of Commandments

Story Submitted by Pietro:

I got to know Donna online.  She was 26, seemed sweet, caring, and very thoughtful.  I was wrong on all counts, but I didn't know that going into the date.

Donna worked in an attorney's office, answering phones, helping clerks, grabbing coffee, etc.  Apparently, there was someone else in her office, another assistant, who she didn't like very much. 

Donna would say, "She keeps cozying up to the clerks and I'm sure she's sleeping with half of the lawyers."

According to Donna, this would explain her competitor's sudden and "inexplicable" pay raise.

"They're getting ready to get rid of me.  I know too much," she explained, "But I'm crafty."

I try not to be a vengeful person, so I let it be.  Other than her anger towards her workplace (and who hasn't had that?), she was great.  For the time being.

Our date was at a downtown restaurant, right after the workday.  She picked the place and we had a very nice time together, aside from the complaints about her job, which were constant.

As we were finishing up, she asked me if I'd mind running a short errand with her after dinner.  I had no problem with such a thing, and she said that she had to drop by the office to grab something.  Seemed harmless.

In the elevator, she said, "There are usually clerks working late, so we won't be alone.  I just need you to keep watch."

Her plan was to break into her coworker's desk and find "evidence," whatever that meant.  I told her that I thought it was a mistake, but she was set on it.  After almost every sentence, she added, "I hope you don't think any less of me."

Getting there.

We arrived at her coworker's desk and Donna rifled through the drawers.  This area was away from the main central area, where the clerks seemed to congregate.

She said, "I'll only be a couple of minutes.  I hope you don't think any less of me."

Surprisingly, she found no evidence.  She looked at the desk for a while and then smiled.

"Oh!" she said, and ran for her desk, which was nearby.  She came back with a small tube of crazy glue.

"Are you kidding me?" I remember asking her.

"If you knew this girl, you'd say that this is the least of what I should do to her.  I hope you don't think any less of me."

Donna was obviously fishing for a, "No, I don't," but I did, so I didn't say anything.

After she had glued two of her coworker's drawers shut (and glued a couple of her own fingers together in the process), she returned the glue to her desk and we slipped out, unseen by the busy clerks.

The next day, Donna sent me an e-mail, telling me that the glue was worthless - it hadn't worked on the drawers after all.  She also said:

"There's no real easy way to put this, so I'll come out and say it: you're not very supportive, and I think we'd be better off seeing other people.  Sorry."

No apologies needed.  And yes, I still think less of you.

Why Haven't You Corrected it Yet?

E-mail Submitted by Tanya:

hows it that you have pictues of yourself all dressed up fancy but the words dont match with your picture?  Ill have an example right here:

"I like fun nights out" is rom your profile.  Nowhere in your profile is there a picture of you having a "fun" night out.  Correct this.

"I spent a year in Africa after college, and I have some amazing stories to share."  Is from your profile.  Where at the pictures of you in africa?  Correct it.

"I like movies, good books, and cooking" is from your profile.  Is boring.  Correct it.  Maybe then we can talk yeah

Martin

I Never Promised You an Orgy

Story Submitted by Kate:

Graham and I had been talking for a little while on a dating site when it hit me that some friends of mine were having a barbecue get-together on a forthcoming Friday night, one of the last Fridays of August.  I asked him if he wanted to meet a little before, and then join up with my friends.

He was really into the idea, and I looked forward to it all week.

That Friday, we met at a restaurant.  It didn't occur to me that anything was out of order, but when he said, "I've never done anything like this before," it struck me as odd.

"A barbecue?" I asked.

He smiled and said, "Yeah.  A barbecue."

I was confused, but I didn't pursue my confusion and figured that he was just being silly.

We joined up with my friends at one of their houses afterward.  There was a bonfire and guitars and about ten of us, altogether.  It was a great way to end the summer, and at first, it seemed as though everyone liked Graham and he liked them.  I was afraid that I'd overwhelm him with meeting them on a first date, but he seemed perfectly fine, which was a relief to me.

After a little less than an hour, we had one of those moments when we all stopped talking at once.  Then Graham stood up and said, "So, are we going to get started here?" and took off his shirt.

Everyone looked at me, as if I was responsible for him.  I asked him, "What are you doing?"

He kicked off his shoes and peeled off his socks.

"This is a barbecue party, isn't it?"  He took off his belt.

"Are you stripping?  Please don't," I said.

"Come on," he said, pulling his pants down, "It's a party."

I said, "Not that kind of party!  Put your pants on!"

He gave me a confused look and said, "I thought this was supposed to be an orgy?  Or does everyone need to loosen up more?  I've got no diseases," he said.

My friends started laughing.  I said, "It's not an orgy, hun.  But good joke."  I did my best to save him some face.

"Doesn't mean it can't be," he said, effectively destroying my attempts to rationalize his behavior, "Who's up for it?"

No one said anything.  After a moment, he said, "Seriously?"

No response.

He pulled his pants on and said, "Whatever.  I'm out."

He grabbed his other clothes and made for his car, in front of the house.  I followed him and tried to get him to stay, telling him that my friends all had a good sense of humor and that it would all be a funny story and that we'd all still be able to have a good time together.

He said, "Not the kind of good time that you promised."

I was stunned and didn't say anything, but I can tell you right now that I never, ever promised him an orgy.  I think I'd remember that.

He drove off, I returned to the bonfire, and we all had a good laugh about it.  We still do.