E-mail Submitted by Sara:

If I were to guess how much you weigh I'd guess a cool 120. You are smokin'!  But sadly, death awaits us all, 120 or not. You should take advantage of life while you have a chance! Advantage life!

You should go out with me.  We're both alive.

For now.

Chris

Story Submitted by Joel:

During dinner out with Emily, she asked if we could swing by her house afterward to feed and walk Ajax, her English bulldog. I didn't have a problem with it.

I like dogs, so I volunteered to walk him for a bit. We were in the middle of the walk down the block in her suburban neighborhood when another guy, tall and wearing a heavy jacket, came around the corner.

"Shit!" Emily said, and tore off down the sidewalk in the direction from which we had come, leaving Ajax and I behind. The guy passed me right by, nodded, and continued on. I walked Ajax back to Emily's house and found the door locked. I knocked, rang the bell, and called her phone. No answer. She had left me with her dog and I wasn't sure what to do about it. I tried her once more, then sat on her stoop for a bit.

After an hour, she texted me, "Is he gone?"

I wrote back, "If you mean the guy we passed on the sidewalk, I haven't seen him since then."

She texted, "I'm going to open the door for a second. Pass Ajax off to me."

I waited for her by her door. Nothing. She texted, "Where are you?"

I wrote back, "Front door."

She opened the front door, stuck her hand out, I handed her Ajax, she pulled him inside, and she slammed the door shut.

She never responded to my e-mails or calls after that.

Story Submitted by Sonia:

Since I go to school, work full-time, and have a child, the overwhelming majority of my dates are Internet dates.  I met Will online, and he offered to drive to my town to meet me for our date.  At first, I thought, "What a considerate guy!"

Will took me to a Borders Bookstore and I ordered a coffee in their cafe.  Will said, "I don't drink coffee," so he watched me drink.  He then pointed to the peppermint sticks for sale at the counter.  "Those look like vibrators, don't they?"

It was an unsettling comment, and he followed it up with, "What are some good ethnic restaurants in the area?"

It was suburbia, so there wasn't too much was going on.  In the few moments it took me to think, he blurted, "You're a Latina.  shouldn't you automatically know where the closest Latino restaurants are?"

I frowned at that, and he said, “Sonia, this is why you’re still single.”

We ended up at a Brazilian buffet restaurant in the next town.  There was a small band playing and it seemed like a nice place.    Before being seated, Will insisted on inspecting the buffet.  "Just in case there's something weird," he said.

While he was off inspecting, the waitress asked, "Is he your boyfriend?"

"Hell no," I replied.

During dinner, Will asked me if I wanted to dance to the band's music.  There was no one else dancing, and we were in the middle of our food, so I declined.  Then, he again said, "Sonia, this is why you’re still single."  Good lord.

I drove him back to a train station, as I didn't want him to miss the last train back to his town.  On the way, he made all sorts of gentlemanly comments: "It smells like some Chinese food took a crap in here."  "Your car makes a lot of noise."  "We should stop for condoms."

We reached the train station, not nearly fast enough for me.  Right before he exited the car, he grabbed my breast, squeezed it, and said, "Honk!"

"Get the fuck out!" I yelled, "You're going to be single for a lot longer than I will, you asshole!"

I drove away, hoping to find my dignity on the side of the road.    At any rate, I went home, showered, and hoped to forget that the evening had ever happened.

The next morning, I got an email from Will telling me what a good time he had on our date.

Dates likes these are the real reason why I am still single. 

Story Submitted by Monty:

When I met Gloria in person after courting her online for a couple of weeks, I was taken aback by the massive zit invasion on her face. Not her fault, of course, but there were more zits than normal skin on her face and neck.

I decided to make the best of it and ignore the outbreak as best as possible. Still, that was made a little difficult by how she dealt with her affliction. Maybe it was an allergic reaction, but whatever it was, they must have been itchy as hell, as she spent most of our time together slapping her own face to deal with it.

We were seated at an outdoor café and she was obviously in some discomfort. I suggested, "Have you tried calamine lotion?"

She nodded. "Didn't help. Has to run it's course." She slapped at her face an extra couple of times. "Besides, this isn't a bad outbreak. I've had some all over my body."

I asked, "What causes them?"

She said, "I don't know. Perfumes or colognes, maybe. Maybe even yours."

"I doubt it. You were already broken out when I first saw you."

"Maybe I wasn't."

"You were."

"You're a bit of an insensitive asshole, aren't you?"

She slapped at her face again. I replied, "I didn't do anything insensitive."

"You might have given me these itchy bumps and you just don't care."

"I didn't give them to you."

"Whatever." She slapped her face a few more times. Her last slap must have hit hard, because she said, "Ow! My face!"

I asked, "Do you want to postpone?"

She slapped at her face again, stood up, and said, "Yes. I've got to go."

She hurried off. I hope that wherever she wound up, she found relief.

Email Submitted by Rika:

I have a bus! An old school bus that I bought at auction cheap! It still has all the seats and maybe you want I can pick you up in it!

It still has all working lights (I fixed it up self) and is street legal. We can drive it anywhere (maybe lick up some kids jk) and you can be the highest woman in town.

You have to see it. Get small talk over with (I understand) and then it will be TIME FOR SCHOOL!

Sam

E-mail Submitted by David:

I don't have any plans for this Saturday night and ive already asked out two guys who said no. Maybe it's because I'm an independent woman who knows what she wants. Maybe that scares guys away. No wait. I know it does. Anyway I need a date for Saturday night. I have tickets to

You need to come with me on Saturday night. You won't regret it. You seem like a spontaneous guy. We'll be out in public the whole time (you have to meet me there) so don't get any ideas.

You have to pay me back for the ticket but only half. The price should come out to

Let me know if you want to come with me. If no one claims the ticket then I'll have to scalp it there and if something bad happens to me then It will be your fault and I'll be pissed.

Flora

Story Submitted by Frank:

Etta seemed normal at first glance. I wrote to her online, and we had a good few messages. She worked in a school district administration office. Maybe it was her daily proximity to a school, but something made Etta act annoyingly young for her age.

You know that five-year-old cousin you have who asks "Why?" to everything? That was Etta, only a thousand times worse.

When we sat down to dinner, she asked, "Why did you pick this place?"

I replied, "Because I asked you in an e-mail what kind of cuisine you preferred, and you said that you liked everything."

"Do you think that everyone is as easy-going as I am, or that someone else would've been more decisive?"

I said, "I don't know."

"Why not?"

I asked her, "What looks good to you in the menu?"

She replied, "What looks good to you in the menu?"

I said, "The eggplant parm."

She said, "Is eggplant parm your favorite food?"

"No. Probably grapes. What's yours?"

"Grapes! Or eggplant parm. What is it about grapes that you like so much?"

"They taste good. How about you "

"What is it about grapes that you like so much?"

"I just answered that."

"Why do you like grapes so much?"

I asked, "Why do you like grapes so much?"

"Why do you like grapes?"

Thankfully, the waitress came to take our orders. Etta asked me to order first. I said, "I'll have the eggplant parm," and then I coughed. Etta ordered the same thing, verbatim, and then coughed, just like me.

The waitress took off and I noticed that Etta was mimicking everything I was doing. I scratched my nose, she scratched her nose. I drank water, she drank water. I said, "Etta, what are you...?"

She said, "Etta, what are you...?"

She smiled, then asked, "Why do you like grapes?"

I said, "They taste good."

She asked, "Why do you like grapes?"

I said, "Etta, if you don't stop, then this will be our last date."

From that moment on, Etta didn't breathe a single word to me. She was silent for the rest of the date, and would not make eye contact.

Well, that's not entirely true. At the end of the date, when I hugged her goodnight, she went limp in my arms and said, "Blaaargh, dead fish."

Her online profile said that she was 25, but I wonder if she was closer to 10.

Story Submitted by Mark:

Grace had been my girlfriend for about four weeks when our schedules finally synched in such a way so as to allow for me to sleep over at her place.  We were both excited, and I planned to head over to her apartment right after work on a Friday.

I packed everything I thought I'd need, including enough for an extra day, just in case.  It turned out that I didn't need it.

After I made it to her place and we made out for a bit, I asked her if I could take a shower.  She set me up in her bathroom, and I brought my change of clothes and toiletries in with me.  It wasn't until I was ready to step into the shower that I realized that I had forgotten shampoo.  A quick glance around and I found hers, a brand available at any store.  I didn't think she'd mind if I used a small amount.

When I returned to her after the shower, she embraced me and smelled my hair.  "That's funny," she said, "You smell like my shampoo."

"I had to use a bit of it.  I hope you don't mind."

"Not so long as you pay me back for it."

I thought that "paying her back" meant sex or something related, and I smiled and kissed down her neck.

Turns out, that's not what she meant.  She pulled away and said, "Seriously, it smells like you used about fifty cents worth.  Do you have it on you?"

Still thinking she was joking, I said, "Can you break a twenty?"

She went for her wallet and said, "Yeah.  Give it here."

I smiled, and she said, "I'm not kidding around, Mark.  I paid for the shampoo.  You're welcome to use it, but it's mine."

I said, "It's just a little bit of shampoo.  Are you for real?"

She said, "Yes, I am."

I pulled out my smartphone and looked up prices for the shampoo brand.  I showed her that it was $4 and said, "I think I owe you more like twelve cents.  Fifty cents would imply that you'd only have eight uses until you have to replace it.  Twelve cents it is."

She said, "You might have used fifty cents worth.  I can't take that chance."

I said, "You'll get twelve cents or you'll get nothing.  It's ridiculous that you're making me pay, to begin with."

"If you don't pay, you're a thief."

I pulled out two dimes and placed them on her coffee table.  "Here you go," I said, "I hope it's worth it."  I gathered my things and left.  The way I saw it, if she was going to charge me for doing something as simple as using a tiny bit of shampoo, what other perceived charges did I have to look forward to?  I was done with her.

Story Submitted by Alan:

Caitlin and I had great chemistry online, and in person, we clicked easily.  I took her out to dinner, and by the end of it, we were holding hands across the table.

After dinner, I had planned to drive us to an arcade (she and I were both into it), and in my car, she ended up with her hand on my leg.  As I drove, she rubbed it upwards.  That act made me pull over to the side of the road, turn to her, and kiss her.  She embraced me tightly and we kissed hungrily for several minutes before she said, "I want you to fuck me."

I also wanted to, and I asked her. "Your place or mine?"

It seemed to me a perfectly legitimate question, given the circumstances, but for some reason or another, it touched a nerve.

She asked, "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

I said, "I was asking where you'd feel most comfortable doing... you know."

"No.  Most comfortable doing what?"

"The fucking."

She gave me a look that was part second-away-from-crying and part second-away-from-slapping.  Her hand reached for the door and she asked, "Who do you think you are?"

Before I could answer, she jumped out of my car and took off down the side of the road, back in the direction from which we came.  I leapt out to follow her, but when I caught up, she said, "I'm going to jump into traffic if you don't fuck off right now, I swear to God."

I let her walk wherever insanity led her.  I made no effort to contact her again, and I have no idea what might have set her off.

Story Submitted by Steven:

This happened to me back in high school.  I asked one of my classmates, Susie, out on a date.  We set up a time to meet for dinner, but she called to ask me if we could push it back.  Her 17-year-old cousin was staying with her family and he had only just arrived, and so she needed some extra time to prepare.

When I picked her up at her house, just around sundown, she emerged from her house with a huge smile and a small, foldable magnifying glass.  She asked, "Did you know that you can burn ants to pieces with a magnifying glass?"

I gave her a funny look and said, "That's mean to the ants."

She said, "They don't care!  Ever done it before?  Let me show you!  You just hold it above them and it's like a terror from the skies!"

She scanned the sidewalk.  I said, "I think you need the sun.  It's not just as simple as holding a magnifying glass up above their heads."

She stared at me for what seemed like an entire minute before her eyes widened and she said, "Ohhhhh..."

Clearly not a Nobel Prize winner.  Then, she asked, "Hey, can my cousin come with us on our date?  He's really funny."

So the three of us did dinner together.  It was less a date and more Susie trying to convince her cousin not to pour all of the salt in the restaurant table's salt shaker into his mouth (he ended up doing it all the same).  First and last date.

E-mail Submitted by Harold:

haha ur photos r so obviusly photo shop!!!! no one who is real has ears that big, lol!

u should think about using real pics of u, dumbo!!!!  <(((((o_0)))))>

Mindy


********************************
(Harold says: "Those are my actual ears, and that's the first time that anyone commented on how 'large' they are.  Maybe I'm biased, but I don't think they're any different from an average ear size.  I ignored Mindy's message, but she wrote me again."


Mindy Writes:

i showed ur ears 2 a friend of mine and she says ur ears are 2 big 2 be real!  she says they look like ugly blankets, LOL!!!  sorry we dont want to be mean but ur ears are funnnnnnnn!  if we send u pics of us, can u make our ears look big 2?

Mindy


********************************
(Harold says: "I also ignored this one.  No more messages since."

E-mail Submitted by Carlie:

My girlfriend (now EX-girlfriend) just cheated on me for no reason and I broke up with her.  Now is the time for me to find someone new.  You could be that someone new if you're not a LYING, CHEATING, SACK OF SHITWHORE.

Do you know what it feels like to be cheated on after a FIVE YEAR RLEATIONSHIP?  I'll bet you don't.  It's okay I can learn you.  You make your plans, imagine a life, a future, kids, grandkids, greatgrandkids, and a whole beautiful lifetime with someone, and then all of a sudden, they just FUCK IT UP FOR NO REASON.  WHY WOULD THEY DO THAT FOR NO REASON?

This time around things will be different.  I will not date cheaters, liars, sacks of shit, or whores.  The guy she cheated on me with DOESN'T HAVE A JOB, HAS BEEN KICKED OUT OF HIS HOUSE, HAS BEEN TO PRISON, AND IS A DRINKER.

Think about my offer.  Even just to meet as friends, I think it would be good for me.

Craig

Story Submitted by Kyle:

Maria handed me what seemed to be a sealed greeting card when we met.  I was touched, but she warned me, "Don't open it until after the date's over."

The date went well.  Nothing out of the park, and I was a little disappointed to see that she was about 30 pounds heavier in person than her online photos made her out to be.

After we parted for the night, I opened the card.  It was a questionnaire/reply card kind of thing with ten questions.  Among them were: "On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your performance on the date?"  "If there was one thing that you could have done better over the course of the date, what would it be?"  "On a scale of one to ten, how attractive was I?"  "If things didn't go well, do you have any friends who you think would be a better match for me?"  "What do they do and how much do they make?"  "What is their contact information?"

And of course, the best part of all: "Please mail this back to me at the following address (stamp not provided)."

I was unimpressed, even though I'm sure she thought it was cute.    Of course, I didn't mail it back.  After two weeks, a text arrived from her: "Hey did you receive my reply card?  Just checking."

I texted back, "Yes."

She called.  "Hey Kyle, did you mail the reply card yet?  I have a hundred percent return record on them and I wanted to keep it."

I said, "I don't think it's right for me to have to add my own stamp."

She said, "That's just to keep it fair.  I can't go giving out stamps to every guy I go on a date with.  That would cost me hundreds of dollars a year."

I laughed.  "Hundreds?  I'm sure you mean closer to ten or so."

"Eww," she said, and hung up on me.  Then, a text arrived, "Send me that reply card, please."

That was about five years ago and up until a few months ago, she'd text me about once a week to remind me to return the reply card.  The messages were always insistent, yet polite.  I haven't returned it (partly because I lost it a few years back) and I'm not sure why she stopped contacting me about it.  Either way, I'm not complaining.

Story Submitted by Kirk:

Jenna and I were out to dinner on a first date when we made it onto the subject of past relationships.  Jenna had a three year and a five year relationship in her past, and I had a three year and a two year.

She told me a funny story about one of her exes and asked me about mine.  I was halfway into a quick description about them when she asked, "Can I call them?"

That stopped me cold.  "You want to call them?  That's probably not a good idea."

She asked, "Why not?  Have something to hide?"

I said, "No, I just don't really talk to them much and can't see how anything constructive could come of that."

Her eyes lit up.  "Ooh, you don't talk to them?  All the more reason why I should call them.  It won't be anything personal.  I just want to ask them, from their perspective, why the relationships ended.  I mean, you have your story, but I just want to hear theirs."

I laughed.  "You're kidding, right?"

She said, "No.  I'm serious.  I've done this before.  It's really not a big deal.  What are their numbers?  Or you can e-mail them to me.  I promise I won't ask them anything personal."

I said, "I'm not going to give out contact information for my exes."

"So you have stuff to hide.  Interesting."

"I don't have stuff to hide."

She said, "Every guy I've asked in the past has been more than forthcoming with the information.  If they're not, then they have something in their past that they'd rather not have me know, and it's so much the better that I find out now."

"My last relationship ended over a year ago.  There's nothing you could possibly ask my ex that would be enlightening."

"Fine.  Fuck it.  I won't call them.  First and last date," she said, then banged her fork on the table and shouted, "Service!"

It was an awkward rest of the evening.  She laughed at basically everything else that I said, but we went Dutch on the check and she didn't even say goodbye before leaving.  Am I crazy here, or was she way off the mark?

E-mail Submitted by Karla:

I have a girlfriend but she sucks and that's where you come in.  You're pretty enough to fuck around with me in front of her so that she'll break up with me.  Sooner rather than later would be great, as I think she's going to do something real stupid real soon.

I'm not talking about sex I am a gentleman lol.  I mean just petting and making out passionately.  You won't have to do it for more than ten minutes although all minutes may not be consecutive.  Once she is broke up with me I can maybe date you (lol)!!

Thanks in advance and if you're interested in me then we should get to know each other.

James

Story Submitted by Cesar:

Sheri and I met on the Internet, we liked each other, and set up a date.  The city had set up an outdoor concert, so I offered to take her to it.

We met in the park, and she gave me a hug, which was unexpected, but I didn't mind it.  What I minded was her digging her fingers into my pocket, and trying to work my wallet out of it.

I pulled away and asked, "What are you doing?"

She said, "I like digging my hands into pockets when I hug."

I said, "Were you trying to take my wallet?"

"Oh my God!" she protested, "No!  No!  I wasn't!  Oh my God, I'm so sorry."  I took her word for it.  We walked to the concert area, I laid a blanket on the ground, and we sat to talk and listen.

Halfway through the second song, she edged closer to me, but I didn't do anything to indicate that I noticed.  Then, I felt it.  Her hand was in my pocket, and she was very slowly but very obviously working my wallet back and forth until she was able to slide it out.

I grabbed her wrist and she dropped my wallet on the blanket.  She blurted, "Someone just tried to take it, and I stopped them!"

It was the stupidest excuse for anything that I'd ever heard.  I put my wallet back in my pocket and we remained there, in silence, until the end of the concert.  After it was all over, I folded up the blanket, said bye, and left her there.

E-mail Submitted by Fran:

Here's the plan: if I were to bring you out in public naked, throw things at you, bring you home, shag you, bring you back out, shag you in an alley, bring you home, shag you again, then take you out to dinner, but with you still naked, would you thank me for it y/n?

Bill

E-mail Submitted by John:

Hi John.

Thanks for your message - you sound like a sweet guy but I was wondering if you'd do me a favor and your answer to it will let me know how best for me to proceed with you.

You seem to have a beard.  The beard makes you look kind of rapisty, and I was wondering if you'd shave it before any kind of date.  I'm not saying that we're going to go out on a date per se, but I want to know if it goes that far with us, if you'd shave it before me meeting you.  Not a fan of the rapist's beard, John.

Answer that real quick and I'll be happy to answer your other questions.  Thank you!

Brianna


***************************************
John Responds:

Hey Brianna.

I don't think I'd shave my beard, although I regularly trim it.  However, I'd be glad to work out some sort of deal with you.  If I shave my beard, will you shave your head?  Let me know!

John


(John says: "No response from Brianna.")

Story Submitted by Kisha:

Richard was a co-worker of Cindy, a good friend of mine.  Cindy talked him up so much that it was hard to not expect an amazing man.

We met at a bar.  He was already there when I arrived, and he gave me a crushing bear hug.  He ordered me a drink and I sat next to him.  He said, "Don't get too comfortable.  We're not staying at this bar.  I saw the bartender looking at you.  He's an asshole."

I said, "Uh... okay.  We can go wherever.  Did you have a good day?"

He went on, "A piece of shit asshole.  Probably never gets any action 'cause he's behind the bar, but he looks at you and we move on, so that's it."

We had just met, and he seemed to like me, so I wasn't going to write him off just yet.  Still, yes, alarm bells were going off.

We walked down the block to a restaurant.  He walked in front of me, as opposed to both of us walking aside each other.  When I moved alongside him, he stopped and said, "You're in front or you're behind.  Which is it?"

I asked, "Can't we walk next to each other?"

He said, "We'd be blocking the sidewalk, then, like those asshole couples who always block sidewalks.  I'm not one of those asshole couples, are you?"

He led the rest of the short distance to a very fancy restaurant.  He pointed to the menu and said, "Take a look.  Think it's worth the price these hoity-toity assholes charge?"

I said, "It might be.  I've never been here before."

He said, "I have.  Assholes.  Let's keep going."

We went on and entered a pub.  He strode right past the host's station and sat down in a corner booth.  I followed him and sat down across from him.  The host caught up with us and said, "I'm sorry, folks.  This section is closed.  Can I seat you elsewhere?"

In response, Richard lit up a cigarette.  The host said, "Sir, you can't smoke in here."

Richard took a puff, then stood up and said to me, "Come on.  We're getting out of here.  Bunch of assholes."

We left the pub and as we walked further down the sidewalk and away from where most of the restaurants in town seemed to be, I told Richard that I was hungry.  He said, "Not my problem.  Tell these assholes to stop kicking us out of places."

I said, "They're not kicking us out of anywhere.  You're acting like an asshole."

He stopped and turned to me.  He said, "Go get your own dinner, then.  Bet I find a place before you."  He flicked his cigarette at my feet and turned back to town.

I waited a few minutes before crossing the street and walking back, myself.  Once inside my car, I drove back home.

I asked Cindy why she thought someone like Richard would be a good match for me.  She claimed that he was the nicest guy at work, and that my description of him didn't match up at all.  Regardless, I haven't trusted Cindy to set me up with anyone since then.

Story Submitted by Lawrence:

Barbara was a 25-year-old woman I met on a dating site.  All of her profile pictures, which were flattering to her, exhibited her in various clothing, all of which had heart designs on it.  Even her screen name was heart-related.  She was a woman who liked hearts.

In one of my first messages to her, I asked her about it, and she confirmed it.  She said that she loved hearts, and that all of her clothing bore heart designs.  I didn't see anything wrong with that.  Yet.

We met in front of a restaurant.  She showed up wearing a black sweater with two hearts, a red one and a pink one, intertwined.  We introduced ourselves, and she looked me up and down, as if she was searching for something that wasn't there.  I asked her, "Everything okay?"

She walked all the way around me as I stood there and said, "Yeah... I guess."

I asked, "Do I not look like my profile pictures?  They were all taken within the past six months."

She said, "No, you do.  It's... never mind."

I was curious about what the problem was, but didn't want to start a misunderstanding, so I swallowed it and led her inside.

I was nervous, as it was a first date, but I did my best to be friendly and funny.  Most of her responses included a shaking of the head and a dropping of her eyes to her lap.  Something was definitely wrong, and by the time our shared appetizer was delivered to the table, I decided to address it head-on.

"Barbara, what's wrong?"

She said, "You know I like hearts.  You remember me saying that I like hearts, right?"

I replied, "Yes.  That was clear."

She said, "You remembered that I like hearts, but you didn't wear anything with hearts on it tonight.  It's like you don't even care."

It took me a minute to understand what she was saying, and I said, "You're upset because I didn't wear anything with hearts on it?  I don't own anything with hearts on it.  That's seriously what's been bothering you?"

She said, "The least you could've done was to wear something that had hearts on it, but instead, you had to get my hopes up and then be a bastard about it by not wearing anything."

I asked, "What does me wearing something with hearts have to do with having a nice time together?"

"Everything.  It would've showed me that you listened when I spoke, that you care about my interests, and that you really wanted to get to know me.  Now I know it's the reverse."

I argued the point a little bit more before filing it under "lost cause."  I tried addressing other topics of interest to her, and she was barely responsive.  Finally, I said, "What if I wear something with hearts on it for our next date?"  I wanted to see what she'd say, although I had no intention of asking her out again.

She said, "I don't think there's going to be a next date.  You clearly don't care about me."

True and true.  But sadly, not why she thought.  I can't imagine her success rate, with such an outlandish demand, and to be honest, even if I did own a shirt with hearts on it, I don't think I'd wear it in public.

Story Submitted by Donald:

In college, I had taken one of my fellow students, Claire, out on a date.  It had gone well, and she invited me back to her room to watch a movie over a bottle of wine.

She poured out a bag of tortilla chips into a bowl and excused herself to use the restroom.  I grabbed a chip and ate it.  She returned and asked me if I had eaten any of the chips.

"Yes," I said, "I had one."

She frowned at me and said, "You didn't wait for me?"

I said, "I'm sorry.  I would have, if you asked me to."

She said, "Whatever," then flopped down next to me on the couch, turned on the TV, and put on some MTV reality show.

After a minute, I asked her, "Did you want to watch a movie?"  She gestured at the TV, as if watching a movie was what we were already doing.  I said, "This is a reality TV show."

She jumped up, nearly knocking the coffee table over, and said, "We'll watch a movie, then!  We always do whatever Don wants!  Why should he have to compromise?"

She walked to her little entertainment center and began throwing DVDs over her shoulder, some nearly hitting me.  She continued, "He'll come in and eat your chips!  He'll demand to watch what he wants to watch!  Whatever Don wants!  Whatever Don wants!"

I stood up and said, "Claire, I had no idea that eating chips that you put in front of me would offend you so much, and you invited me back here to watch a movie.  What's wrong?"

She jumped up, threw a DVD case to the floor, and yelled, "What else can I do for you, my lord?  Can I bake you anything?  Want grapes on a silver platter?"

She was nuts.  I wanted out of there.  I made for the door, but she grabbed my arm and pulled me back.  "Don't go, your majesty!  Why won't you let me get down on my hands and knees for you?  Here!"  She grabbed the bowl of tortilla chips and dumped them all at my feet, on the floor.  "Here!  Eat them!  Eat them!"

I left as quickly as I could, and practically ran down the sidewalk.  The last thing I wanted was for her to follow me and cause a scene.

I made it my business to avoid her after that, and I was told that she said to her friends that I had been a complete asshole over the entire date.  Nothing could be further from the truth, but I simply don't have time for the delusional.

E-mail Submitted by Dorothy:

Women and met are like jigsaw puzzel pieces have you ever noticed that?  There ade for each other but physically all fit while it's all emotions that get in the way and prevent prper fits.  Women like to pretend that emotions are always in the way but its just their prissy personalities.

Prissy priss priss wants a man to do all her work for her but when it comes to sexing "oh no i'M to prrissy priss for this!  we're made for it but i'll deny it as punishment to self and to my man!  He'll do what I say or I can change him good."

now is not a good time to fuck with men.  we're coming back and you'll see: prepare for vengeance.

Clark

Story Submitted by Kelly:

Casey wrote me over a dating site.  He didn't seem at all into himself, and he was really laid back, both of which I had never encountered before in a guy on one of those sites. 

We talked for a couple of weeks, and he seemed as nice as nice could be.  I really liked the stories he told of his time backpacking around Europe, and he seemed very interested in me.  A date was the logical next step.

The date itself, dinner and bowling, went well.  But that's not what this story's about.  It's about what happened after the date.

He dropped me off at home, where I lived with my younger sister, and I went inside and changed into pajamas.  My younger sister and I sat down on our back porch, where we'd often (and still do) talk and catch up.

We were in the midst of talking, likely about the nice time I'd had on the date, when someone in a black cloak and hockey mask ran up the back walk towards us.  We screamed and I shoved my sister into the house.  I followed right behind her, into the kitchen, and slammed the door closed just before the masked figure caught us.

He banged on the door and roared, and I yelled to my sister to call the police.  Then, the masked man's yelling turned into laughter.  From the other side of the door, I heard, "Kelly, it's me, Casey.  I was just kidding.  Don't call the cops."

I called through the door, "If you're Casey, tell me something that only he would know."

He said when his birthday was and mentioned a couple of things that we had talked about that night.  The voice was his, too.  Less panicked but more confused, I opened the door slightly with the intent of asking him why he wanted to frighten me.

He shoved the door open, stepped into the kitchen, took my face in his hand, held it tight, and said, "Now you're mine!"

I kicked up, between his legs, and he fell back and collapsed onto the kitchen floor.  "You fucking bitch!" he yelled over and over.  I grabbed a broomstick, although what I would have done with it, I don't even know. 

"Get out of here," I heard myself say, "I never want to see you again, psycho."

He dragged himself onto my back porch, screaming, "You're going to hear from my lawyer!  My lawyer!  I was just fooling around!  You piece of shit bitch!"

I slammed the door behind him, we turned all the lights in the house on, and my sister and I practically huddled together in fear for the rest of the night.  Not too brave, maybe, but I wasn't about to go to bed with that creep stalking around outside the house.

Never heard from him or his lawyer.

E-mail Submitted by Jonathan:

Hey boy.

My last boyfriend ruined my credit when he tied me to the bed and stole my credit cards for an afternoon of taking out other women and buying everything he wanted before splitting.  He said that tying me to bed was for sex but he was lying.  My brother found me naked on the bed.

I mention that first always because my issues are large and I have trouble trusting people.  Don't even ever try to tie me to a bed, I will claw your eyes out and am serious.  It'll take me some time to trust you but when I do it will be all the more worth it because I am a great woman who just wants to give love.

K so what else about me?  I don't like the dark or being tied to things (now you know why).  I have a son from a previous relationship and he is my life.  He;s a good boy and he does what he's told.  His birthdays coming up and I promised to take him to six flags disneypark.

Read my profile (it's linked from here) and tell me what you think.  Nice thoughts only please ;)

Dana

E-mail Submitted by Doreen:

I think we should go out on a date.  This is because you've never had a guy treat you right the way I would treat you.  Everything you say in your profile is exactly the way I am:

"sensitive - but who can laugh at everything"
I am very sensitive (I cry at movies a lot) and I laugh at everything too (I also laugh at movies.  And cry.)

"all about supporting each other"
I would totally support you in everything you ever did.  Want to do something!  Do it!  You have my trust and love always.

"aggressive (but in the right way) and intelligent"
You looking for a fuckin ape?  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA JUST KIDDING... nah but I'm very aggressive (I fight a lot) and I'm smart enough to know everything.

"carry on a conversation...."
Holy fuck SHUT UP.

Andrew

Story Submitted by Scott:

Paula and I had been out on one date already.  She seemed to form an instant attachment to me, and historically, that usually makes me back off.  There were no glaring red flags to speak of, but something about her manner implied desperation, and my next question would be, "Why would she appear to be so desperate?"

For our second date, I had the idea to go to the beach.  Partly because it was beautiful out, and partly because I wanted to see Paula in a swimsuit.  She latched onto the plan at once, practically screaming with anticipation.  "What a good idea!" were her exact words.

I picked her up at her place.  She carried with her a beach towel and bag, and wore a wide-brimmed hat, sunglasses, and a light outfit that covered her arms and legs.

We made the two-hour drive to the beach, picked out a spot, and I stripped to my bathing suit.  She offered to put suntan lotion on me, and I let her.

She didn't change out of her clothes, and I asked her, "Are you going to come in the water with me?"

She replied, "No, I didn't bring a bathing suit."  She pulled out a book and started to read.

I asked, "Did you not want to come here today?"

She replied, "Of course I did.  There's more to do at the beach than jump in the water."

I suppose.  We could have easily gone to a library or park if the plan was to sit on a blanket and read.  Still, I guess it was my own fault for not asking in the beginning if she would be interested in swimming at the beach.  Regardless, I was there to enjoy everything, and so I spent some time in the water, then came out and asked her, "Want to take a walk?"

She replied, "No, I'm good."

"Maybe later?"

She said, "We'll see.  I'm reading now."

I was hungry, so I unpacked a sandwich.  I offered her one and she took it and put it on her towel, beside herself.  After I finished, I said, "I'm going to take a walk."  She didn't respond, and off I went.

I was gone for maybe about a half-hour.  When I returned, she and all of our things were gone.  I looked around to make sure that I was back in the right place.  I was.  For the better part of an hour, I searched up and down the area until I finally found her, sitting under a tree near a trash can in the parking lot.

I asked her, "I was worried.  Why did you move?"

She shrugged and asked, "Ready to go?"

I wasn't.  I had wanted to go back in the water.  When I told her this, she sighed and said, "Make it quick.  I'm almost done with my book."

I spent about a half-hour in the water, and when I returned to her and toweled off, she said, "That wasn't making it quick at all.  I finished my book ten minutes after you left and have been waiting here the whole time."

I said, "Sorry.  I was out, you know, enjoying the beach."

She didn't say a word to me the entire ride home, and didn't even say goodbye before leaving my car.  I have no idea what was up her ass that day, but when she called up to schedule a third date, I cut her loose sooner than give her another chance.

Story Submitted by Spencer:

In the dead of winter, I met Ruth online.  She came across as opinionated and assertive, but she also had a great sense of humor.

A couple of days after a heavy ice storm, I picked her up at her place with the intent to head out to dinner.  I opened the passenger-side door for her and she climbed in without a thank you.  I closed her door, my foot slipped on some ice, and I whammed down onto my side.

I groaned, and she opened her door right into me.  "Oh my God," she began, then started to laugh.  "Holy shit," she gasped between giggles, "That was funny!"

I was in a lot of pain and she was just sitting there, laughing at me.  I said, "This really hurts."

"I bet it does!" she laughed even harder.

"I'm really in some pain here," I said.

She stopped laughing abruptly and said, "Cut the shit, Hamlet.  Bring me to dinner."  She slammed my car door closed.  I wanted to assume that she was kidding around, so I gave her a full 30 seconds to exhibit some compassion as I remained on the ground.

When she didn't take me up on my implied offer, I roused myself painfully, tore open my car door, and yelled, "Get out!"

She didn't budge.  A weak smile formed on her face, and she gave me a small laugh.  I hit the car door, she jumped back, and she knew I meant business.  "Get out!" I yelled again.

She jumped out of the car, stepped awkwardly around me, I locked the door, slammed it shut, went around my car, and drove off.

Aside from some large bruises, I turned out fine.  Better still, as Ruth would no longer be in my life.

E-mail Submitted by Donna:

Your skin is so shiny.  I'd say it was just a trick of the light but its in two out of your three pictures.  I like shiny skin.  What do you do to get your skin so shiny?  I want to gnaw it... that willteach it from being so shiny, eh?

Russell

Story Submitted by Lauren:

Peter was an avid cook who kept a blog of his various experiments in the kitchen. Early in our online correspondence, he pointed me to it and I was impressed with his work, mostly with breakfast items.

We organized a date for a Saturday morning, and he suggested, "You can come over to my place before we head out. I'm working on a new recipe for orange juice." Intrigued, I took him up on his offer.

When I arrived at his place, I discovered that he had set up a table, two folding chairs, a pitcher of orange juice, and two glasses on his front porch.

"Have a seat," he welcomed me, "Give it a smell."

I smelled the juice in the pitcher. It had an overpowering aroma of orange juice, but also something... less than orange juice. Something metallic? Salty? What was it?

"Try it," he said, "Taste the flavor."

I poured it in my glads, tried a sip, and spat it out. Something tasted gross. He said, "No need for dramatics. I know it's not that bad." He swigged down a few gulps.

"Ugh," I said, "What was in there?"

He said, "Freshly squeezed oranges," and nothing more. He went on, "Oh yeah, and a little anchovy paste."

"Gross! In orange juice?"

"It's not gross. Do you have any idea how many vital nutrients anchovies have?"

I felt nauseous. "They don't belong in orange juice!"

He said, "Who are you to say that? God put man here to experiment. Maybe they should go together. I think they're delicious together." He drank more, then pushed the pitcher across the table, at me.

I said, "I think I'm done."

In response to that, he leaned across the table and belched in my face. I rose and tipped the pitcher over at him on purpose. He yelled and said, "Now I've got anchovy paste all over these pants! Bitch!"

I ran off of his porch and jumped into my car. "You get back here and clean this up, bitch!" he yelled behind me, but I didn't stop until I was as far away as possible from that asshole.

Story Submitted by Daisy:

Ronald and I met last spring. We clicked pretty quickly, and while we weren't together or even really dating, we definitely had a thing for a while. We'd go drinking and shoot pool, spend a few days at my family's lake house, basically do all the things underemployed 20-somethings do for fun. It turned out to be just about the perfect summer fling, and we're still friends now.

Ronald and I had a lot in common, both regarding interests as well as physical attributes.  Oddly enough, we're both tall, skinny blondes with long noses and light eyes. We don't really look alike, but we have enough of the same features to create a sort of similar appearance.

One night in the middle of July, Ronald and I were at the bar of a pool hall.  As we were ordering our beers, a girl came up to greet him.  He and she exchanged a few words, and then he and I went off to our pool table.

On our way there, Ronald explained that he had hooked up with her a few times but eased off when it became apparent that she was in it for a lot more than he was. I'm not a jealous person, so I just shook my head out of pity for her, and we went on with our game.

Things got awkward when we went back up to the bar for round two. The girl immediately zoomed back to Ronald's side, pretty pointedly ignoring me, and then, just as we were turning around to head back to the table, she asked him, "Is this your new girlfriend?"

Ronald didn't know what to say. For starters, we had only been seeing each other for about a month and were nowhere near "let's establish a relationship" territory.  On top of that, this just wasn't the sort of thing you discuss with a girl you used to bone.

It was one of those moments that would never work if you tried to plan it, but damn if it wasn't perfect right then and there.  I asked, "Didn't he tell you?  I'm his sister!"  Then I put both arms around him and laid a big old smooch full on his lips.

The girl got a strange look on her face but didn't say anything. Ronald and I made it about halfway back to the board before busting up. 

E-mail Submitted by Jason:

Hey.

Okay so you don't know me but I know your brother.  He and I went to college together and I always crushed on him hugely but I never said anything.

I tried sending him an email a few months ago but he never responded.  He probably never checks his old college address anymore.  I tried friending him and getting in touch another couple of ways, but maybe he just doesn't remember about me.  Too bad for him!  j/k.  That's where you come in.

You need to show him my profile and see how good I will be for him.  Can you talk me up and tell him things like, "Check out this girl - what do you think?" and things like that?  I can give you more ideas, but I really always wanted to see where things would go with him.  DON'T TELL HIM THAT I WROTE YOU THIS!!!  THAT'S THE MOST IMPORTANT - IT HAS TO SEEM NATURAL.

I can take you out to dinner to thank you.  Your brother was a psych major and we were in three of the same courses, even tho I studied English.  The seat cushions always smelled so good after he sat in them.  That's how important this is to me.

Sally


********************************
Jason says, "I showed her to my brother, but he doesn't remember her at all.  It also might have to do with the fact that my brother's still in high school."

E-mail Submitted by Elle:

I'm moving across town this weekend and I need some help.  I can pay you in lunch and dinner if it comes to be late.  I really want to see some women sweating out for me and carrying my stuff.  No, this isn't paid so stop your greedy little heart from beating right now.  This isn't a joke.  I need help moving and I want to see women moving me.

If I'm sitting on my chest of drawers while you're moving it (get some of your sisters to help) then that would be even better, like those things they used to carry kings on.  I'm like king of my stuff and you all carry me until I'm moved in.  Like I said food's provided at no cost to you.  I jsut want you to sweat and work.  Use my bed to sleep on when you're all done I'll be on my bed too.  Maybe we can watch a movie if you moved my HDTV and player right.  Last time I moved some bitch moved my flatscreen upsidedown and I screamed at her.  That was fashion.

Patrick

Story Submitted by Ethan:

Suzanne had a novel idea for our date.  We had been planning to meet up in the city.  By phone, she said, "If we're already booking out the day for each other, let's do something fun!  How about a hide-and-seek date?"

Her plan was to hide somewhere in the city, text me clues, and then once I found her, our date would commence.  It sounded like fun, and I told her that I was on board.

The day of the date, she texted me, "Come find me!" in the morning.

I texted back, "Hint?"

She said, "Come find me!" again.  I assumed that a hint would be forthcoming, and so I dressed and left my place.

I went to a centrally located area and texted her, "I'm in the city.  Where should I look?"

She wrote back, "I'm in the city!  Come find me!"

I wrote, "Yes, but I need a hint.  I can't look everywhere."

No response.  I was hungry, and so I grabbed a quick breakfast from a local vendor.  I texted, "I'm having breakfast.  Where can I find you?"

No response.  I walked around for a bit, as, luckily, it was a nice day out.  My phone rang.  It was her.  I picked it up, and she hung up.  I texted her, "Where are you?"

She texted, "Don't have another meal without me.  Minus ten points!"

I wrote, "This is getting frustrating.  Tell me where I can find you."

She wrote back, "If you looked, you'd find me.  Start looking."

I wondered at that point if she was somewhere nearby, keeping an eye on me the whole time.  Maybe she just wanted me to look around for a bit, and then she'd reveal herself.  So that's what I did, for about an hour.

After I did a sufficient amount of searching, I called her.  It went to voicemail.  I texted her, "I'm tired of spending our date without you.  Tell me where you are, of I'm going to have lunch without you, too."

No response.  At that point, I decided to not contact her again unless she wrote to me.  I had lunch, took another brisk walk around the area, sat on a bench for a bit, and made for home.  She didn't write back to me at all that day.

The next day, I woke up to find that she had sent me a text at four in the morning.  "Where are you?" it asked.

It was 9am, and I texted back, "Home.  Maybe we should have proper date next time."

She texted back almost immediately, "Come find me!"

I'm not lying when I say that for the next few weeks, almost once a day, she'd send me a "Come find me!" text.  I ignored them all.  Hopefully, someone, somewhere ended up finding her.  I sure didn't.

Story Submitted by Kevin:

Betsy asked me early on in our introductory e-mails if I was in contact with anyone else on the dating site.  I was, but no one particularly serious, so I told her, "A little here and there."

She replied, "Is that kind of like 'having sex a little here and there'?"

I told her, "No.  It's just writing."

"Writing about sex?"

"No."

My possessive sense was tingling, but that was all she wrote about it, and then she went on about some other topics that I found more interesting.

We met up on a summer day and opted for a walk downtown.  At one point, I had to use a restroom, and it was about time for lunch, so we found a place, sat down, and I went to excuse myself for the bathroom when she snapped her fingers and held her hand out to me.

"Your phone," she said.

I glanced from her palm to her face.  "My phone?  Why?"

"You might be calling one of those online girls that you don't fuck.  Give me your phone."

I said, "I wasn't going to call anybody, and I'm not giving you my phone.  How do I know you won't go through it while I'm away."

"So you have things on there that you want to hide from me.  Interesting."

I said, "If you're not going to trust me, then maybe we should call it a day."

She replied, "You're sure acting like a guy with something to hide.  Maybe we should call it a day, as I evidently can't trust you."

She stood up to go, and I watched.  After taking a few steps, she said, "Aren't you going to try to stop me?"

I said, "I can't see why I would.  I don't mesh well with possessive people."

She said, "Give me a reason to not be possessive."

I said, "I don't have to give you a reason.  You trust me or you don't.  Your decision."

She said, "Bye, then," and left.  This was a few years ago.  Last I heard, she was married.  How do people like this find mates?

E-mail Submitted by Sara:

K so I'm looking for sex and I won't stop til I get it.  I have anything to give to you if you let me lay into you for one night as many times as I want.  I can buy you a bucket of chicken (not more than one - been taken advantage of before) or I have this old shitty lamp thing that's metal and from my family.  No bulb or shade but it's a woman with some crystals.  Probably valuable.  Maybe whatever.  In or not>?

Drake

Because Ana has written A Bad Case of the Dates's 1000TH STORY!  We've sent Ana a $50 Amazon.com gift card to thank her.

We'll have more contests and prizes this year, so stay tuned and keep sending us your stories!

Without further ado, A Bad Case of the Dates's 1000th story:




Story Submitted by Ana:

I met Wendell on eHarmony.  He lived in a city about a three-hour flight from me, but we decided to go ahead and get to know each other.  Fairly quickly, it transitioned into a serious long-distance relationship.  He visited me twice for extended stays, and for our third meeting, I flew out to visit him.

He picked me up at the airport and didn't seem at all glad to see me.  His overall tone and lack of any affection (hug, etc.) stunned me silent.  Don't forget, we had already spent in-person time on my home turf, so I had a baseline reading on him.  I really didn't know what to do or say.  We rode to his house with almost no conversation at all.

When we arrived, he suggested that we go for a walk at a nearby college campus quad.  But he added, "Your outfits's frumpy, but I'm hungry, so let's just go."  This was going south so quickly that I didn't know what to do,  It wasn't just a date, but a serious relationship that I wasn't thinking of walking out on just because of an off day... yet.

For most of the walk, he was on the phone with another woman.  It wasn't even anything urgent, just general chit-chat for the entire duration.  Anyway, we ate, returned home, and went to bed.

When I woke in the morning, I found him on his computer, signed into the instant chat feature of another dating site.  I went back to the bedroom, packed up my suitcase, returned and said, "Take me to the airport."  He didn't argue, then drove me to the airport and left.

As I had paid for a longer stay, I decided to get a nearby hotel and try to enjoy what was left of my trip.  It didn't hurt that Hector, another guy I had formerly dated long-distance (and on whom I still crushed), also lived nearby.  I called him up.

Hector seemed genuinely happy to hear from me.  He picked me up at the airport and insisted that I stay at his place for the duration of my trip.  For my wounded ego, this was exactly the sort of suggestion I needed.

We had a good night together with some of his friends, and although nothing happened between the two of us that night, I was certain that I had made the right decision.

The next morning, I woke up first and found that he was out of cigarettes.  I walked to a convenience store and got him a carton.  When I got back, he was furious.  "Why the fuck did you buy me these?  You think I can't afford them on my own?  I don't need goddamn charity!"

I said, "I just did it to be nice."  He finally calmed down, offered me cash to pay me back, and I accepted it with thanks.

This was to be my last day in the city, and on our way to the airport, I made the mistake of offering to pay for gas for the trip.  He fumed, "Again with the fucking charity!  You think I can't afford my own gas?"

The stress of the trip finally took its toll and I sobbed my eyes out.  He apologized profusely, but the day was ruined and I just wanted to go home.  He dropped me at the airport, and we never really got close again.  Needless to say, I never communicated again with Wendell.

Story Submitted by Ross:

Ariel had mentioned that she did "constant environmental volunteer work," and I assumed that it meant that she was involved with various charities and groups.

What I didn't realize was that, on our date, she would look inside of every trash can we passed (and this was in New York City - there are a few trash cans per block, most of which are overflowing) to collect bits of paper, plastic, metal, and glass, and keep them all in a plastic bag (that she had brought with her).

"Nobody recycles," she said, "So I'm saving us, one garbage can at a time."

When her plastic bag was filled to capacity, she went inside an electronics store to ask them if they had a recycle bin.  They told her that they couldn't take household trash, and she argued with them that it wasn't from a household.  They told her that they couldn't help her, and so we left with each other and a bag of recyclable trash that nobody wanted.

She asked me, "You think a restaurant would take it?  I'm only trying to help everybody."

I told her, "I think you might be better off finding a bin somewhere on a residential street."

"Good idea."

We found a string of brownstones and she dumped her bag into one of the bins.  Great.  The very next thing she did was to look in a nearby trash can, and wouldn't you know it?  Someone had thrown out some perfectly recyclable cardboard, and an old pasta jar.  She relocated these to the bin, and we continued on.

The restaurant at which we ate had paper napkins, and she insisted on bringing the used ones with us, "To put into another bin – paper is paper," she told me.  It certainly was.

To be fair, I'm not against recycling, and I think that what she was doing wasn't as bad as all that.  But recycling was the main focus of the date, and I think that our time spent together (the point of a "date") was sharply curtailed in favor of making sure that paper products would one day be reused.

When I paid for dinner with my fake leather wallet, she said, "You should be using a composite wallet."

After dinner, we had planned to visit a museum that was open late, but she said, "I'm kind of on a roll here, and I want to make my weekly goal.  Do you mind if we postpone the museum?"

She was asking me to cut the date short because she would rather pick up trash.  Maybe I should have been more exciting.  Or, maybe she should have been just a little less insane.  I said, "Go for it."  She gave me a hasty hug goodbye, stepped off the sidewalk, and started mining the gutters for waste.

E-mail Submitted by Ron:

Heyo.  If you're punk, I got a band you have to hear.  I'm the lead singer of Dozerbeekzh and you're local so yu should come out to our shows.

Things is I see what you wear in your profile - shit.  You can't go into this as some closet punk with nothing.  We want you at our show in a bra and lacy panties.  Men are shit at our shows (we're an all girl group) and if yo uwant to come and hear us then you have to look like you want to hear us.  We want you there to throw eggs and tomatoes at.  We want you in a cage.  That's how you come to our shows no abercrombie bitchass bullshit, "dig"? 

You make me want to puke all over your face but I still want you at our show.  If you're a good bitchass we'll maybe hook up after my tongue is nine inches all muscle and strong.

Phylliz

Story Submitted by Doris:

On my upper left arm, I have a small black and white tattoo of an abstract image that a friend of mine designed.  It's the only ink I have, but I'm proud of it and it means a lot to me.  I know that tattoos are turn-ons for some people and not for others, so I usually feature at least one photo of it among my online profile shots.

Enter Zack.  He messaged me, we chatted, and we seemed to have enough in common to meet in person.  We thought it would be best to go for a casual walk instead of locking ourselves into meeting over a meal.  I wore a blue tanktop and long skirt.

The first words out of his mouth after our nice-to-meet-you hug was, "What the fuck is that?"  He pointed to my tattoo.  This was a guy who hadn't swore in any of his messages to me, so to hear it out of him with such a judgmental tone made me freeze up.

I explained, "It's a design that my best friend invented.  You didn't see it in my online photos?"

He said, "I did, but I was really hoping that it was one of those Crackerjack temporary things.  Did you know that you can't get buried, now?  You have to be cremated.  Cemeteries won't let a tattooed person in."

I said, "That's false.  Some religions frown on it, but if you have a tattoo, you can still be buried if you want to."

He said, "Holy shit.  Talk about trashy."

I backed away from him and said, "Your attitude?  Hell yes.  Get lost."

I walked off.  He yelled after me, "Go hang out at a biker bar!  Whore!"

I have no idea what his problem was, but I'm glad that he brought out his anger issues to play so soon.  At least I had a nice walk out of it.

Story Submitted by Jacob:

I have in my profile that I'm a fan of opera (I don't really sing, but I've produced a few shows in college in beyond) and that formed the basis of my brief relationship with Debbie.  Debbie, you see, was an opera singer.  We had a lot about which to talk.

While I was impressed with her credits, I had expected no performance of any kind on our first date.  I just wanted to learn more about her and have a nice time.  However, Debbie must have had the wrong idea, because she showed up with music, and she was ready to sing.

We were seated in a pretty small but popular restaurant for lunch, and I assured her that, while I wanted to hear her voice, she didn't have to sing that day.

She insisted.  "I brought music, didn't I?"  She drank some water, pulled out music, and belted out Carmen's Habanera.  She was obviously very talented, but a sleepy Saturday morning restaurant seemed not the place for an operatic performance.  She sang for a solid five minutes and brought the place to a standstill.  When she was done, there was applause, and I voiced my compliments.

She beamed and the restaurant flowed back to normal.  But Debbie wasn't done.  She asked, "Mozart or Puccini?"

"We can hear more later," I suggested.

She said, "Or why not both?"  She slammed her music down on the table and sang out from Mozart's Così fan tutte.

This time, the diners were not as impressed.  Some covered their ears, and one or two said, "Thanks, that's enough."  One said, "Change the channel."  Opera, yes, may be beautiful, but not everyone wants to hear it at the same time.

I cut her off.  "Debbie, Maybe we should hold up and bring this somewhere else."

She continued to sing, ignoring me.  An older woman approached us and said to Debbie, "Sweetheart, you're quite a singer, but maybe you could take it outside once you're done?"

In response, Debbie pulled out another piece of music and sang out what sounded like a Halévy piece.  I said, "Debbie, I don't think it was that piece of music that was the issue.  I think people just want to eat their meals in peace."

She gathered her music, stood up, and sang loudly as she walked out of the place.  I glanced at the older woman, who stared at me as if to ask, "What's wrong with that girl?"

I followed Debbie out, but Debbie was moving quickly down the sidewalk, singing the entire way.  I called after her, slowed down, and stopped.  Debbie was clearly in her own world, and she simply didn't seem to want to be reasoned with.  I went home, and never heard from her from that day to this.

Story Submitted by John:

Roughly a year or so after breaking up with Mark, I unexpectedly received a call from him.  Our break-up had been mutual and I didn't have any hard feelings.  He asked if I'd like to get together for coffee. I agreed, and picked him up later that evening.

I asked where he'd like to go, and he suggested we pick up some to-go cups and drive into the mountains. It was getting dark and the dead of winter, but I went along with the idea, as it was something different.

We chatted about little things as we wound our way to the top of the mountain overlooking the city, catching up on what we'd been up to over the past year. Life had been hard for Mark, and I was glad I could cheer him up a little.

We parked and finished our coffee as the sun disappeared completely. The conversation lulled, and Mark leaned in for a kiss. Soon, we were making out, and Mark suggested we go further. I asked him where he wanted to go, since we were an hour from the city and it was 15 degrees outside.

"Let's just do it in the car," he said.

I'm a big guy – 6'1" and 225 pounds at the time – I drove a Toyota Paseo that I didn't so much get into as I put on. The back seat was tiny, and I knew we'd never fit back there. While I thought about this, the much smaller Mark removed his clothes and squeezed on top of me in the driver's seat. Soon, he was riding me like Seabiscuit.

Things were hot and heavy when Mark suddenly stopped. I asked, "What's wrong?"

"It's... it's my stomach..." Mark replied, and lifted off of me. As he disengaged, I felt liquid splattering all over my crotch. I looked down, and it was like someone had dumped a serving bowl of chocolate pudding in my lap.

Mark groaned and slid off to the passenger seat. I looked around frantically for something with which to clean myself, but there was nothing in my car, not even a newspaper. I opened the door and waddled around to the trunk with my pants around my ankles. In the trunk, I found a bucket of handy-wipes for mechanics, the kind with pumice in them.  I did my best to clean up in the cold with half-frozen, scratchy wipes.  Mark was fully dressed and having a smoke, avoiding all eye contact with me.

The mood, obviously, was killed. We were both quiet on the way back to town. I knew he was embarrassed, and when I dropped him off, I tried to explain to him that I didn't have any hard feelings.  "Shit happens," I said, trying to make light of the situation.

Mark meekly nodded and took off.  I never heard from him again.

Story Submitted by Jeffrey:

In my early twenties, Joanna wrote me a message online.  She was about eight years older than I was, and said that she liked younger men.  I liked most women, so it seemed as though there was the basis for some sort of relationship, superficial as it may have been.

Back then, I worked two jobs and tried to save money, so I didn't own a car.  I had a bike that I used to travel just about everywhere.  I didn't tell Joanna this, as she didn't ask, and I didn't think that it was a big deal at the time.

After sending e-mails to each other for a week or two, we decided to meet up at a place in the center of town.  I biked there, locked my ride, and walked down the sidewalk towards the cafe.

As I walked, a blue coupe pulled up beside me and rolled the window down.  "Excuse me," the woman inside called out.  I turned and saw that it was Joanna, sporting a huge pair of sunglasses.  She asked, "Do you have a car, kid?"

I said, "No.  I biked here."

She said, "All right.  Bye," and drove off.  It was such a dismissive statement that I thought for a moment that she was leaving permanently.  Then, I figured that she was circling the block to look for parking.

When 20 minutes had gone by and she didn't show up at the restaurant and she hadn't responded to my text or phone call, I realized that my first guess was accurate.  She had left without explanation, and the only thing I could think of was that my ownership of a car was somehow pivotal to her interest in me.  Her loss.

E-mail Submitted by Tess:

Good day.

Many things go into a proper date, but we all know why we do it in the first place - to find people who we don't mind being naked with.  Let's not mince words, this is why we are on this site in the first place.  We like to be naked with others.  This is fine.

I do not like to waste time and money and I'm sure you can also agree with this policy.  If I spend two weeks chatting you up, then gas money, then dinner money, then an entire evening invested in you, then it would be a complete waste of time and money if you turned out to be someone who I did not want to see naked. 

I have a longstanding policy to not date anyone who does not send me a photo of themselves, naked.  I'm sure you understand my reasons, as I only write to smart people.  You can be sure that your photo will be used once for evaluation purposes and then deleted from my hard drive forever.  Most people do decline this offer, but I have likely saved so much time and money this way, that its effectiveness cannot be denied.

Thank you for your cooperation and understanding.

Edgar

Story Submitted by Tim:

Marlena and I were acquaintances in college and I started talking to her more often with the intent of asking her out.  Over the course of our conversations, she told me when her birthday was (May 10th) and I mentally logged that away.

I finally asked her out on a date and bought her a small bouquet of red flowers, as a way of acknowledging her birthstone.

We met at an intersection in the middle of town and I handed her the flowers.  She gushed over them and I said, "I got them because they're the color of your birthstone."

She glanced at the bouquet then looked back at me.  "I was born in May.  My birthstone's emerald."

I caught my breath.  She was right.  Ugh, I felt stupid.  But I'm sure that it was the thought that counted, right?

"You forgot my birthday?" she asked.

I said, "No!  I remember that your birthday's May 10th.  I just forgot the birthstone."

She said, "You forgot," then smashed the flowers against my chest and stormed away.  "Get it right next time!" she called, over her shoulder.

I wondered for about 10 seconds if I was in the wrong in any way, shape, or form.  Once I realized that she was batshit insane, I walked a little way, found a pretty young woman standing by herself, gave her the flowers, and continued on.

Maybe that young woman had a bad day.  Maybe not.  Maybe she even had a boyfriend.  It didn't matter.  The smile she gave me made it all worthwhile.

E-mail Submitted by Ian:

Hello I'm Rania-butterflygirl.  I like your profile and thought that we would have lots in common to talk about!

I'm Rania-butterflygirl!  I like romantic nights in and out and you'll also find out soon that I like butterflies ALOT.  My name is Rania-butterflygirl!

For fun I like butterflies.  They are my name, Rania-butterflygirl and I think they are beautiful creatures unlike any other.  All o of clothes have butterflies on them and every halloween I dress up like a differnt butterfly.  Rania-butterflygirl is my name that's why!  They seem to also be attracted to me wherever I go inside or outside there are always butterflies......

Rania-butterflygirl is unusual name but it's perfect for me and I hope to meet you soon!

Rania-butterflygirl

E-mail Submitted by Leora:

We've seen each other before.  Look at my pictures and I dare you to tell me otherwise.  I can't believe that I've found you at last.

I've been to over 20 mediums and past-life-regression-hypnotists and they all tell me the same thing with 100% certainty (so that's 20 people at 100%): I was Louis de Rouvroy, duc de Saint-Simon, contemporary of His Most Royal Majesty King Louis XIV, Regent of the Kingdom of France!  20 people have agreed to this.

Now that I have seen your face, I know the truth: you were my beautiful wife, Marie Gabrielle de Durfort.  We had three children together indicating that we had sex at least three times.  Our bodies pressed together in the warm Cevennes nights - birds sang and men of valor strode among the pillars and trees... it makes me weep to think of it.

I am back at this life for an unknown reason but now that I have found you, [INSERT GIRL'S NAME HERE] we must meet and understand what this means for ourselves and for the future and our children.

Please believe me.  I can provide you with proof if you meet me but once!

Sam/Louis de Rouvroy, duc de Saint-Simon

Story Submitted by Kendra:

Fred was a friend of a woman I had met at a party.  She had informed me that I'd possibly be compatible with her friend Fred because we had similar senses of humor.  I took it as a compliment at the time, but I've since revised my opinion to take it as an insult.

Fred and I were awaiting the main course when he excused himself to use the bathroom.  He returned with a huge smile on his face and said, "Guess."

"Guess what?"

"Guess what I just did."

I stopped buttering my roll and asked, "You just went to the bathroom?"

He said, "Yes, but guess: piss or shit?"

My mouth opened, at a loss for what to say.  Fred explained, "I'm a pro at being in the bathroom for just long enough for you to not know what I did.  I was in there too long for a simple piss, but way too short for a shit.  Now guess."

I said, "Um... shit?"

He clapped his hands and laughed so hard I thought his larynx would pop.  "No," he said, "Just a piss!  Ha!"

"Great."  I ate my roll, hoping that this game was over.

It wasn't.  A couple of minutes later, after sitting through a good amount of silence, he rose again.  "Part two!" he announced, and disappeared.  I looked around anxiously for our food.

A few minutes later, he returned with a grin.  "Guess!"

"Can this be the last time that we play this?  I really don't like this game."

"Guess!  Guess!"

I sighed, "Shit."

He laughed.  "Nope!  Just piss again!"

I said, "Okay.  Now let's stop with this game."

Our food arrived and he regaled me with tales of his adventures: "Most people can't ever tell.  The trick is to fake them out by either drinking a lot or eating a lot, and then staying in the bathroom for a certain amount of time.  Once, I kept a friend guessing ten times, and he got it wrong each time.  I should have people put money on this!"

When dinner was nearly over, he stood up and said, "Guess where I'm going?"

I said, "If you do it again, I won't be here when you come back."

The smile dropped from his face.  He said, "Are you telling me that I'm not allowed to use the bathroom?  Who the fuck are you?"  He stomped away, I hurriedly put enough money on the table to take care of my food, gathered my things, and left.

There were angry texts and calls, but he was so wrapped up with his "special talent" that he never asked me what mine was: ignoring the idiotic.

Story Submitted by Chester:

I met Ellen on a dating site and she came off as very friendly and flirtatious.  We connected well, and when we planned the date, she even wrote, "Between dinner and dessert, we should schedule some make-out time.  Can we make that a definite?"  The weather was warm and an attractive woman wanted to kiss me.  I really looked forward to this date.

We had an early dinner and I was a little disappointed to learn, in person, how into herself she was.  She'd go off on every tangent as long as it was about her, and when I'd say something like, "I acted in local and regional TV commercials for two years," she'd say, "I act, too!  I've done a whole bunch of plays, like Annie Get Your Gun, Guys and Dolls, Kismet..."  Generally, it seemed as though she was the most interesting person to herself.

We made it onto the topic of her millions of friends, and she said, "Eric has a pond on his property, surrounded by trees, and in high school, we'd all get drunk and go skinny dipping.  We should do that, tonight!"

She pulled out her phone, called Eric, and then a half dozen other guys.  The idea of swimming nude with other men was a turn-off for me, especially as this was supposed to be a date.

Once she was finished with the phone calls, I said, "So is this no longer a date?"

She said, "It's going to be the best date ever.  You'll see."

We drove to Eric's pond, where Eric and this other guy were waiting for us, pondside.  They were in their boxer shorts already, and were dripping wet.  Ellen couldn't rip her own clothes off fast enough, and left a trail of them from the car to the pond.  She jumped into it, screaming, "High school!"

The two guys ignored me completely and followed her into the water.  Still hoping to get some, I stripped down and jumped in.  I swam up to where Ellen was standing in chest-deep water near Eric.

She turned to me and said, "I'm glad you're here," then turned to Eric and said, "How are you doing, handsome man?" then grabbed his head and plastered her mouth to his.

While this was going on, the other guy swam up close to me and asked, "Hey, you want to do anything?"

Without a word, I climbed out of the water, collected my clothes, and left.  I'm not sure if Ellen even noticed, although I did hear the other guy say, behind me, "Ellen, your guy is leaving."

Ellen wrote me a one-line e-mail.  "So how do you define a date exactly?"

I didn't write back, as I didn't think she'd understand the actual definition.

Story Submitted by Steven:

Gina and I were having brunch at a neighborhood cafe and we were looking over the specials when she said, "So Gina, tell me about your writing."

I looked at her, and she went on, "I'm glad you asked, Steven.  I've written about a hundred publishable poems and I'm halfway through my first novel."

I said, "I'm sure we would've gotten to the topic."

"I'm helping it along," she said, then went on, in a deeper voice, "Tell me about your poems and novel, Gina.  I'm very interested."

She replied to herself, "Thanks for your interest, Steven.  See?  That's how you're supposed to be."

I said, "Okay, tell me about your writing."

She said, "Way to sound enthused, Steven.  If you don't care, then this date probably wasn't a good idea."

"I'm used to these sorts of details coming out in conversation."

She replied, "Hello?  What are we doing now?  What's this, if not conversing?"

"Please tell me about your writing, Gina.  I'm interested."

"Forget it."

An uncomfortable silence ensued.  Gina broke it with, "Sorry, Gina.  Please continue."

She replied to herself, "Your apology is accepted, Steven," she rolled her eyes and went on about her poems and novel.  We ordered food.  She wouldn't shut up about herself or her projects, and most conversational input from me was ignored.

When the check came, I said, "Let me help you with that, Steven."

She asked, "What?"

I said, "Let me help you with that, Steven.  It's awfully polite of me to offer, isn't it?"

I went on, "It sure is, Gina.  Thanks for being so polite.  And I'll take you up on your offer."

Gina shook her head, "That's not the way this works."

I said, "That's how it's supposed to be.  I'm helping it along."

She made a face, then took out her wallet.  Chump.

E-mail Submitted by Sarah:

How would you like to meet a guy who lives like a king?  Like a REAL king, in a castle!  Well isn't today your lucky day because I'm a guy who lives in a castle!

I have a moat, a drawbridge, servents, and John Deere tractor to plow shit.  LOL I don't have slaves but I do have stone walls and guard towers and flags.  Seriously you have to see this palce to believe it.  I converted it from old home to my own private castle!

One woman asked me if I had alligators in my moat.  LOL no..

You can be the queen of all!  You can boss the servents!  You can wander the parapets and enjoy the view from the tower!  You can see all the way to the inter state from the tower, depends how tall you is.  Come and see my castle, write back and maybe you can!

KING Hank!

Story Submitted by Drew:

Linda and I were out to dinner at our first meeting.  We were at a steakhouse.  She was very quiet, and I had been trying my best to nudge her into conversation when the waitress came by to take our orders.

I ordered a portobello burger, and Linda asked for a quesadilla.

The waitress said, "I don't think we have quesadillas here."

Linda asked, "Can you check?  I really want one."

"We don't have quesadillas.  Sorry.  If you want something Mexican, I can recommend–"

Linda asked, "Do you have any sushi?"

The waitress stared at her and glanced at me.  I said, "I think it's more of an American type of place.  Chicken, burgers, steaks, and salads."

Linda looked down for a moment then asked the waitress, "Do you have any sushi?"

The waitress said, "No, sorry.  Just what we have on the menu."

Linda said, "Oh..." and looked at the closed menu on the table in front of her.

The waitress asked, "Do you need a few extra minutes?  I can come back."

Linda shook her head and asked, "Do you have teriyaki bamboo?"

The waitress said, "Just what we have in the menu.  Sorry.  I'll come back."  She left.

Linda looked down at the menu but didn't open it.  I said, "Why don't you order up a salad or some seafood?  I think they had some good choices."  I reached for her menu to open it.

She said, "Touch my menu, and I'll get violent."  I froze.  She went on, "You have no idea how pissed off I am, right now.

I asked, "Why are you pissed off?"

"I want what I want.  Why can't they just make it?"

"Linda, it's a steakhouse.  I asked you if a steakhouse would be okay, and you said it would be."

"I remember what I said, Drew.  I'm not a child.  I just thought that steakhouses had actual variety instead of just shitty steak."  She shoved the menu across the table at me, where it collided with my bread plate.

When the waitress came back, Linda ordered a side of fries and nothing else.  We didn't say a word to each other for the rest of the date, and as soon as we split the check, I was out of there.

Story Submitted by Bianca:

Barry and I had spoken for a week online when he asked me out for a walk and lunch on a Saturday.  He worked for a bank and seemed to have his life together.

That weekend, we met in a park, introduced each other, then started to walk down the sidewalk.  He smacked himself in the ass.

"What was that?" I asked him.

He said, "I've had a tiring day.  It keeps me awake.  You can just ignore it," and then he spanked himself again.  Okay, then.

A couple of times a minute, he'd open-palm smack himself, even as we were walking by other people.  I had heard of people washing their faces, going for jogs, and even shaking themselves, but spanking yourself in the ass to stay awake was a new one.

He went from doing it a couple of times a minute to several.  It was enough for me to say, "If you're that tired, should we just meet up some other time?"

He spanked himself and answered, "No.  Sorry.  I'll stop.  I'll probably be all right."

He did stop, for a little while, and as we continued walking, he did it only once or twice in ten minutes.  Then we reached a railing over a stream in a park and we leaned on it.  His headed nodded down as if sleep overtook him, and he said, "Oh God," and spanked himself mercilessly.

I waited for him to stop, and then asked, "Is that the only way you can stay awake?  Try just talking to me."

He said, "Talking could help for the sleepy part, but I need physical contact for the jock itch.  I've got it bad, and this helps to relieve it for a sec and keep me awake.  Double duty."  He spanked himself again.

These spankings were really interfering with the date, regardless of what the issue was, and I told him that it would probably be best if we held the date some other time.  It wasn't his fault that he was sleepy and had... other issues.

He said, "Hang on, I'll take care of it.  I just need to..."  He stood in the middle of the path and raised his arm up behind himself as far as it would go.  He was evidently preparing for a final, monster spank. 

He then dropped his arm and asked, "Would you mind doing it?  You'd have greater leverage."

"You want me to spank you?  Right here, right now?"

"God yes.  Please."  He pointed his rear at me.  I looked around at the lightly populated area.  There was no way that this was going to happen.

"I don't think so."

"I need it!  Please."

I said, "Let's just do lunch or I'm going to head out."

"Just one spank!"

"Bye."

I turned and left.  "Come back!" he yelled, "Come back!  Just one!  Come back!"

I didn't give in, and I escaped, barely, with some dignity.

Story Submitted by Carl:

I wrote to Marni online and she never wrote back, so I moved on.  Three weeks later, a reply arrived from her.  One line: "Busy on Friday?"

It was a little off-putting, especially as she hadn't addressed anything I had written her in my message.  I wrote back a friendly reply with some additional questions, just to help me learn a bit more about her.

She wrote back, "We'll talk Friday.  When/where?"

I had a bad feeling about it, but I thought, What do I have to lose?  Maybe she just doesn't like talking online.  I wrote back a time and the name of a local Italian place.

On Friday, I waited for Marni at the place when a woman who was about 60 approached me.  "Carl?  I'm Trudy, Marni's mother.  Marni can't meet you here tonight, but you can still be a man and buy her dinner."

I asked, "What are you talking about?"

She said, "Marni's at home.  My home.  She can't make it out to dinner.  But you can still be a man and buy her a dinner that I can then take home to her."

"You want me to buy her take-out even though she didn't even show up for the date?"

Trudy opened a menu and pointed to three items.  "Marni would probably want a meatball sub, spaghetti with meat sauce, or chicken Parmesan."

I shook my head.  "Marni wouldn't want any of those.  Her profile said that she was a vegetarian."

Trudy was clearly starting to lose patience, and I had started to wonder if Marni even existed at all.  She said, "Carl, are you going to be a man?  Or aren't you?"

I pulled out my phone.  "Why don't we call Marni to ask her what she wants?  What's your number at the house?"

Then she made a grab for my phone, but I was too quick for her.  She said, "You're no man, Carl.  You're not a man at all!"

"Maybe not, but I'm also not a moron.  Bye."  I left Trudy there, if that was even her real name to begin with.  Needless to say, I didn't hear from "Marni" ever again, and it still stands as one of the weirdest experiences I've ever had.

E-mail Submitted by Wendy:

Cold winter nights ahead!  Do you have a Liam?  A Liam will keep you warm through cold winter nights!  He is a warmth friend who will keep you warmer and warmer the closer you cuddle up with him!

On especially cold winter nights you can use your Liam to warm up your insides as well as your outsides!  Liam comes with a mini-heater that you can place in certain areas that will warm them up immensely and specifically!  (Can you guess what those areas are?  Between your legs and in your mouth!)

Winter's not going anywhere, but Liam can be yours for the low low price of asking him!  That's right!  Free warmth on cold winter nights.  You have nothing to lose by asking Liam and Liam's mini-heater over to your house on cold winter nights.  Warmth and good feelings await you!

You need a Liam!

Liam

Story Submitted by Don:

Back in college, I had asked Sia out, and on the afternoon of our first date, she called me up in hysterics.  "I don't know what to do," she said, almost crying into the phone, "I think I'm going to cancel tonight."

"What's wrong?" I asked her, wondering if there was an injury or death involved.

She said, "My hair!  I tried to cut it myself, but it looks like shit!  I found a how-to website and did everything it said, but everything's uneven and spiky and won't go down and I don't know what to do!"

Sia had long brown hair that I liked very much.  I told her, "I'm sure that your hair is fine, and you can wear a hat if it bothers you that much.  I won't mind."

"I'm not wearing a hat!" she snapped, "It looks like garbage!  We can't go out!"

I offered, "We can have a night in, if you want.  Your place or mine.  It just seems silly to cancel a date because of a bad hair day.  I'm sure it's not as bad as you think."

She said, "Fine.  Why don't you come by and take a look at it, then?  We'll see if you still feel the same way."

I took her up on her offer and walked to her dorm.  She opened the door to her room.  Her eyes were bloodshot and teary, but her hair was... fine.  I honestly couldn't see anything wrong with it.

I said, "Honestly, your hair looks great.  I don't see anything–"

"Liar!" she yelled, shoved me out of her room, into the hallway, and slammed the door shut.  She wouldn't come out, and I gave up on her, after that.

Story Submitted by Erron:

Charlie and I met at a bar down the street from where I live. He was a handsome barfly who helped me drag a drunken friend to my house one night. He stayed for an hour or so before walking home. After I pretty much threw myself at him, he declined and told me about his ex-girlfriend, Patty, who had just left him.

I started hanging out at the bar and ended up becoming good friends with Charlie. I was a little surprised when he asked me out to dinner one night, but I liked him.  We went to dinner a few times, but mostly just got wasted at the bar together.  He inevitably ended up talking about Patty, so things never went much beyond flirting. He told me that they lived together in a tiny studio cabin for a few years, she was a stripper, had a meth habit and stole from him. Then she left him to be with a woman.

I tried to give my best advice and be sympathetic, hoping he’d move past this so that we could get on with it. I even went to his house at 3am one night and left a copy of one of my favorite comic books along with some chocolate and a card on his stoop, after he drunk dialed me and sounded on the verge of offing himself.

He came over almost every day because he couldn’t stand being home alone, and even stayed over a few times. We never had sex because he almost always whined about his ex, and I wasn't about to sleep with a guy in those circumstances.

So why was I hanging on to such a devastated guy?  Good question. All I can say in my defense is he was a pretty cool guy when he wasn’t being Debbie Downer.

Cut to a few weeks later. No Charlie for three days. He didn't return my calls, and he didn't show up at the bar.  No one had seen him. I started to really worry and on the fourth day I called his house again to leave another message saying as much.

The answering machine picked up.  It said, "You’ve reached the home of Charlie and Laura. Leave a message, or not!"

So apparently in those three days, he had met another woman and had already moved her in to his place! He never called me and stopped hanging out at the bar.

I still see him around our small town sometimes, but he just gives me a puppy dog look and never comes over to talk to me. I like to pretend that I don’t know him.