Profile Sent in by Maddie:

I'm interested in women with asses like bubblegum: pink and choo-choo-chewy! Never had your ass chewed?? Time to start now! Not just any guy will do this so grab me while you can for some chewing action all night.

Story Sent in by Richard:

Janice and I were walking through New York's Central Park in the early evening hours, on our first date. We hadn't even made to dinner, when all of a sudden, she stopped and pointed at a clump of trees and said, "I just saw a wolf go into those trees."

I looked at the trees, then turned to Janice. "I don't think you saw a wolf."

"I know what I saw," she said, "and it was a wolf. It was huge. I want to get out of here, now."

"There are no loose wolves in Central Park. It's impossible."

She went from fear to rage in less than a second. "Are you calling me insane? I know what I saw!"

"It wasn't a wolf."

"It was a wolf! It wasn't a dog, rat, or goat! It was a wolf, it was a wolf, it was a wolf!"

I replied, "It wasn't!"

"It was!"

"Fine!" I yelled, losing patience. "I'll go and check it out!"

I strode away from her, into the trees. Astonishingly, I didn't find a wolf. Instead, I turned back in the direction from whence I came and screamed, "Holy shit! It is a wolf! Aaaaaagh!"

I heard her scream, "A wolf!" but I couldn't see her from where I was. When I emerged none the worse a few moments later, she was nowhere in sight. Either she took off, or the wolf got her. Made no difference to me, either way.

Story Sent in by Amelia:

Dave wrote to me online and asked me out to a dinner date. He had a good sense of humor and never ran out of conversation topics, so we set up a meeting.

When he picked me up at my house, he came to the door and asked me if he could use my bathroom. Once he was done, we were off.

The dinner portion went well, and in the middle of it, he said, "Remind me. I have a magic trick to show you after dinner."

After dinner, once we were outside, we walked a block or so when he said, "Oh yeah, I wanted to show you a magic trick."

He stopped walking. I watched him do a strange little dance, and then he reached down into the back of his pants and pulled out a pair of dark green boxer shorts as if he had removed them without taking off his pants. He held them up triumphantly. "Ta-da!"

I gave him a weak smile and clapped. "Bravo."

Then, he said, "Hang on," then put his arms around me and reached his hand into the back of my pants. I jerked away from him, and in his hand, he held a pair of panties, which, upon closer inspection, were mine. They weren't the ones I had been wearing, though. It was a pair I had left at home, that he must have taken when he "went to the bathroom," had hidden, and had at the ready for this exact set of circumstances.

I grabbed then from him and stuffed them into my purse. He smiled at me and repeated, "Ta-da!"

I nodded and said, "My turn. Watch me disappear." With that, I turned away from him and walked off.

He called after me, "Your trick sucks! Come back!"

I didn't. A truly good magician never repeats a trick.

Email Sent in by Jen:

I'm supposed to send a nice message. But I don't fucking wanna! I wanna send messages about sex and violence! I wanna cut to the chase and get in trouble! What the fuck is wrong with these sites! I'm dying over here!

Roger

Story Sent in by Giacomo:

Anna and I met online, and we spoke for a few weeks before she invited me to a pool party at her house. She had invited four other friends, two sets of couples, and so I went into it with high hopes. Anna herself was in a bikini top and sarong skirt, and she gave me a big hug hello.

We were all sitting out by the pool, and hadn't been getting to know each other for too long when one of Anna's friends, Tony, handed his empty lemonade glass to me. He said, "Hey man, be a friend and fill this up for me?"

I wanted to make a good impression on Anna and her friends, so I did the friendly thing and took Tony's glass inside, filled it, and brought it back to him.

When I returned, one of the girls, Marissa, asked me, "While you're up, would you make me a sandwich? Anna said that she has ham, Swiss, and mayo. That sounds good."

"And one for me, too," Tony said.

"And me," another friend, Stacy, said.

I replied, "Maybe we can all go in and make sandwiches together."

Anna put a hand on my shoulder and said to me, "Would you mind making the sandwiches? I'm just catching up with my friends."

I whispered to her, "I assumed that you'd want to catch up with me, too."

She said, "Maybe later. Right now, we're all pretty hungry, so if you could go ahead and make us those sandwiches, that would be great. And make yourself one, too, while you're at it."

I went inside and found all of the sandwich-making materials, but discovered that Anna only had enough slices of bread for five sandwiches. I had the idea to cut them in half so that everyone could have at least one.

Once I made them, I returned outside to find everyone laughing and playing in the pool.

Anna called to me, "Just set them down on the table."

I did that, then sat down to eat one. "What are you doing?" Anna yelled at me, "Can't you wait for us?"

I replied, "Does it matter? Anyone can come and grab one when they're ready."

She called back, "Are those half-sandwiches?"

"Yes."

She climbed out of the pool in a rage, as her friends watched. She looked down at the sandwiches, picked one up, and said, "What the hell school of sandwich-making did you go to, that you cut these so small?"

I answered, "You only had enough bread for five full sandwiches, and there are six of us."

"Um, hello!" she said, "So you come out here and tell me, and I give you the money to go out and buy more bread! Are you stupid?"

Before I could reply, she picked up the plate of sandwiches, but I jumped from my chair and grabbed as many as I could.

She tossed the remaining ones into the pool and then turned to me and made a grab for the ones that I held.

I stuffed one into my mouth and carried the rest away. She chased me around the pool, screaming, "Thief! Thief! Give those back!"

I was faster and flew from the backyard and her house. Once in my car, I drove away, the Res used sandwiches thrown hastily in my front passenger seat.

She wrote me a long, long email about what an disrespectful asshole I was. I replied to inform her that I was there as her date, not as a servant. No response to that.

Story Sent in by Dot:

Fred was a friend of mine in high school.  He asked me out on a date during junior year, and I liked him enough to accept.  He said that he'd pick me up at my house in his "new ride" at 6:30pm on a Friday evening.

I dressed up and was all ready to go when he rang my parents' doorbell, right on time.  I opened the door and he stood there with a brand-new, bright red Radio Flyer wagon.

"We're going to ride in this," he said.

I laughed.  "That's your new ride?"

He said, "I bought it for tonight."

As I said, he was a friend, and we were in high school.  I climbed into the wagon and he wheeled me down a block or so on the sidewalk before he said, "Whew.  You're heavy.  My turn to ride."

Insulted, I climbed out and he climbed in.  He looked at me, expectant.  "Well?" he asked, "Pull me."

I said, "First, apologize for calling me heavy.  That was a mean thing to say."

He said, "It's a fact.  We're going to have to take turns if we're going to get to dinner.  It's just down the road.  Come on."

I said, "No.  Apologize, first."

He thought for a second, then said, "I guess I'll just wheel myself there, then."  He then climbed out of the wagon, carried it into the street, gave it a running start, and flew down towards town, away from me.

He made it a few dozen feet before it coasted to a stop.  He then climbed out, gave it another running start, and flew down the street again and finally, out of sight.

I went back inside and called up a couple girlfriends to see if they wanted to hang out.  He texted me not long after to tell me that he made it to the restaurant and that he was going inside with or without me.

I was out with my friends when, an hour or so later, another text arrived from him: "Dinner was great.  Where to next?  A movie!"

He sent me text-based updates of his date with himself for the rest of the night.  Finally, around midnight, my friends and I were on our way home when the following text arrived: "Now I will drive you somewhere and we will make out."

When I woke up the next morning, I saw on my phone: "The sex was greatest.  More sometime?"

At school on Monday, he told everyone how our "date" had gone.  My friends and I quickly set the record straight, and no one took him too seriously about much after that.

Story Sent in by Samuel:

Heidi and I were out on our first date.  We had met online and things had moved very quickly to an in-person meet-up.

We were walking through a park on a Saturday afternoon when I realized that I hadn't asked her if she had any brothers or sisters, so I thought that an innocuous, simple, getting-to-know-you-type question was, "Do you have any siblings?"

She stopped walking an said, "Okay, you know that already."

I didn't.  "I don't," I told her, "We only just started talking less than a week ago.  It never came up."

"It did.  I told you the answer already."

"Refresh my memory?"

"No."

"Okay, so don't."

I kept walking, but she remained rooted to the spot.  I stopped and turned to her.  "What is it?"

She said, "Answer the question."

"What question?"

"Of how many brothers and sisters I have.  I know you know."

It struck me as a stupid thing on which to be hung up, but I guessed, "Two."

"Two what?  Brothers?  Or sisters?"

"A sister and a brother, I guess."

"No!  You weren't listening to me!  Did you listen to anything I said?"

I replied, "I listened to everything you said, but I can't really guess at something that I know for a fact that I never asked you."

"You are so full of it.  One more guess, and then that's it.  Date's over."

I said, "You're being ridiculous."

She shrugged and said, "And you don't listen to me.  Date's over now, then.  Oh, and I'm an only child."

She walked away, and that was the end of the date.

A month and a half later, I received an email from her that said, "I was thinking about our conversation and realized that we may not have discussed my sibling situation.  That would make the fault mine, and I apologize.  Let's meet up again soon, okay?"

No.

Story Sent in by George:

I wrote to Patty online, and my first inclination that something was amiss with her mental state was the following line in her response: "Most guys end up wishing that they hadn't dated me in the first place."

Everything else about the note was fine, but of course, that piqued my interest the most, and I asked her why.  She replied, "Because I'm independent and I don't last long with controlling guys.  Most guys I've dated have been controlling."

I'm not a controlling guy.  Therefore, I assumed that I had nothing about which to be worried.  I asked her out to dinner, at a good place where I had been many times and knew the owners.

At dinner, I saw pretty quickly why most guys who dated her had second thoughts.  And it had nothing to do with the guy being controlling.

One of the first thing I said to her upon sitting down was, "Let me know if you want any recommendations.  I have plenty of good ideas.

She replied, "I think I'll make up my own mind, but thanks!"

I said, "I was just trying to be nice."

"Okay," she said, in a tone that seemed like it was anything but okay.  I let it go.

Then the waiter came by and asked for our drink orders.  She turned to me and asked, "Do you want to order my drink for me, too?  Or can I make up my own mind?"

I replied, "What are you talking about?"

She said, "You were so quick to try and tell me what to order for food before, I thought you'd have similar thoughts on what you want me to drink."  She glanced at the waiter, as if to say, Look what I have to deal with!

I said, "I don't think I tried to tell you what to order, at all.  You make up your own mind."

She smiled, nodded, and ordered a soda.  I stayed with water.  After the waiter left, she said, "I can make up my own mind, see?"

"I never said you couldn't."

"You implied it."

The rest of dinner went a lot like that.  The best part was when we were talking about our respective jobs.  She said, "I got fired from my old job because they say I stole office supplies, but it was really because my boss had a huge crush on me and he knew that if he acted on it, I'd get him into the biggest trouble.  Men fall for me left and right."

I asked, "But did you actually steal office supplies?"

She nodded and said, "Tons.  But that's not why they really fired me, remember?"

"Of course not."

The waiter came to take our plates away, and I was sure to tell him, "Separate checks."

She stopped what she was doing and stared at me.  I expected her to ask me what I was thinking, asking her to pay for her food, instead of having me pay for it all.  But she didn't say anything about it.  In fact, she shut up for the rest of the date, which wasn't long at all.  We left the restaurant together, she barely glanced at me, said, "Goodnight," and walked out of my life forever.

Story Sent in by Cindy:

Alvin asked me if I wanted to go stargazing as part of our first date. I liked the idea, but it was still only a first date, and I didn't want to go alone into a field with any guy, so I asked him if we could perhaps shift back the stargazing to another time. He said that he was fine with that.

He took me out to dinner and we went to see a play performed by a local theatre troupe in a park. He was very polite and concerned with my comfort the whole time, and I enjoyed our time together.

Towards the end of the date, I had already told myself that if he asked me to go stargazing on a second date, I'd tell him that I'd do it.

Instead, during our late-in-date walk, he pointed up at the sky and said, "Look! Stars!"

I looked up and saw a couple. Then, he yelled in my face, "Ha! We went stargazing after all! Fuck yeah! Stargazing the whole fucking sky! Ha!" He then screamed at me, flailed his arms around, did a strange dance, and then stopped, bowed, and wished me a good night.

I did go stargazing a few weeks later, but not with him.

Email Sent in by Kat:

In the beginning………

I was born!
Then I lived and had school and life and expericnes and prison and fucking.

NOW……
I'm still alive and the story continues.  Lost friends along the way, the true ones are the ones til the end.

When is the end?
God wows.  Maybe now its time to be serious and u seem like u might be serious enough for me in the serious direction my life is going to take…. u just let me know!

Brad

Story Sent in by Maurice:

Lia and I had already been out on one date already. She was quiet, but I think that we had a good time together, and in fact, she was the one who called me up for a second date.

"You'll love this," she told me over the phone, "I found a refrigerator box to play in."

We were both in our twenties, but a refrigerator box is a refrigerator box, regardless. So when she invited over to her front yard to play with it, I did.

For about a half-hour, we took turns climbing in, hiding inside, and playing around the box. She pulled me inside with her at one point, and I was tempted to kiss her, although I still thought it was a bit too early. It seemed like we were having fun.

Then, she climbed inside and set it upright, so that I couldn't see her. "You'll never catch me!" she taunted.

"I'm going to send you and this box to Timbuktu," I said, kidding around, and tapped the sides of the box.

"No!" she screamed, then, "No!" as loud as an entire third-grade class. It was a horrifying scream, and it was clear that she wanted me nowhere near her.

I stepped away from the box as she, still screaming, tipped it over, tumbled out of it, ran up her front steps, busted into her house, and slammed and locked the door behind herself.

A bit stunned, I knocked on her door, tried calling her, and waited for a good 20 minutes until deciding that she had just gone crazy, and I left.

Never heard from her again.

Profile Sent in by Maureen:

I'm really good at

Every guy lists "sex" here.  It was just as funny the first time as it was the fiftieth time, guys.  I am a sensitive, caring, loving, compassionate, huggable man who has needs beyond the physical.  For me the explosions of the mind are greater than the explosions of the body.  I adore a beautiful sunset… a glass of wine with someone you love… petting a llama… singing to flowr's!  Those moments that make you weep…

Story Sent in by Mary:

Steve wrote me an email over a dating site, and we spoke for about a month before our first date.  He and I were to meet at the local train station, as he had planned to take it in a few stops to meet me.

I waited for him on the platform, and when he saw me, he gave me a big hello, then put his arm over his eyes and reeled back.  "Oh shit, I'm blind!" he said.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

He backed into a wall and said, "Turn those high beams off!  I'm serious!  I'm dying!"

I rolled my eyes and sighed.  "Steve, cut it out."

He removed his arm from his eyes, then looked at my chest again and repeated the process.  "Oh God!  Those high beams!  Sweet jerky!"

Perhaps he thought that he was complimenting me.  I didn't take it as one, though, and decided to give him one more shot to salvage the date.  I waited for him to complete his performance.

Finally, he removed his arm from his eyes again, apologized, and didn't say another word about my chest…

…for one whole minute.  Before we reached the end of the parking lot, he said, "I just can't get over your tits."

I replied, "And you never will.  Bye."  I hurried to my car and drove off without him.

Profile Sent in by Terrence:

Who I'm looking for:

IVE HAD IT WITH MEN ASKING ABOUT BESTIALITY ON MY FARM.  FARM ANIMALS ARE PRECIOUS CREATURES THAT DESERVE OUR LOVE AND CARING.  IT IS BAD FOR THE ANIMALS AND BAD FOR YOU BECAUSE OF DISEASES AND IS ILLEGAL!  STOP MESSGING ME ABOUT ANIMALS I WONT ANYMORE.

Email Sent in by Heena:

Hi.  I think you're a nice lady.  But what brought you here in the first place?  Being on a dating site means that certain assumptions must be made as fact:

1. You have tried meeting people in other ways.
2. Those other ways have not worked.
3. By "not worked" it means that it ended because of someone's fault.
4. By law of averages half of the time it would likely be your fault.  The other half it would be the guy's fault.
5. That means that half or 50% of the time you are a bitch.
6. I don't date half-time bitches.  Bitch.

Ed

In early college, I met Rita in one of my classes.  She and I would chat before class, after class, and online.  I asked her out to dinner.  When I met her in front of her dorm, the first thing she asked me after a big hug was, "Is this a date?"

I wanted it to be.  She was attractive (short, blonde, and a lovely smile) and intelligent.  "I think so," I said.

Apparently, that wasn't the answer she expected.  She gave me a frown, said, "Oh.  I'll be right back," and returned to her dorm.

She came back about five minutes later as if nothing was amiss.  "Okay.  I'm ready, now."

We walked down the street and I asked her, "What was that about?"

She replied, "I just had to take care of a few things."  She obviously didn't want to tell me, so I didn't press the issue.  She didn't say much else, and I performed the vast majority of talking.  She'd answer my questions as quickly as possible, and she didn't seem at all as interested in conversation as usual.

Her mostly-silence continued until we made it to an Italian place at the edge of campus.  Once we sat down in a booth, she asked me, "Do you want to have sex with me?" with a tremble in her voice.

I replied, "It's a bit early to think about that.  Why don't we just focus on having a good time?"

"By 'good time,' you mean sex, right?  That's, like, guy code for sex."

"Not in my case."

"But you're a guy."

"Yep."

She clammed up after that, making dinner uncomfortable and awkward, although I did my best to keep the conversation going.

She interrupted me at one point to say, "You talk a lot.  If you're trying to talk me into having sex with you, then it's not going to happen."

I replied, "You're the one who seems obsessed with sex.  I haven't mentioned it once."

"Because you mentioned it."

"I never mentioned it."

She raised her hands as if she had spent the better part of the day teaching a toddler how to use the toilet, only to watch him point his rear at a white wall and spray.  "You're mentioning it right now!"

"Are you for real?"

She stood up and said, "I'll be right back," and walked off.  I watched her walk out of the restaurant, pull out her phone, and make a call.  She did not return, but instead waited out there.  I wanted to know what she was up to, but I didn't want the waitstaff to think that we were ditching the check.

I flagged down a waiter to ask him if he could check on her, maybe to ask her if everything was all right.  He did, and he came back to tell me, "She said that everything's about to be fine."  I didn't worry much about it, and instead turned back to my dinner.  I wasn't about to wait for her.

Ten minutes later, she walked back in with four other college-aged women.  They stood at the end of the booth, shoulder-to-shoulder, and blocked any exit.  One of them, tall and with glasses, said, "You'd better watch it.  Rita's one of us, and we don't let one of us get fucked with."

I replied, "There's going to be some major fucking if you all don't back off."

They looked at each other, likely not expecting to be resisted.   I asked the tall, bespectacled one, "Could you get a waiter for me?  I'd like to grab the check."

She leaned in to me and stuck a finger in my face.  "Don't fuck with Rita, okay?"

I shoved her finger away and yelled, "Back off!"  They didn't move.  Again, I yelled, "Back off!"  They stepped back.

The same waiter I had spoken to before came by and asked, "Is everything okay over here?"

I said, "I'd like the check, please," then glanced at Rita and said, "Separate checks."

One of the other girls turned to Rita and mumbled something like, "Asshole."

I paid for my half of the meal, shouldered past them, and didn't say another word.  I don't know what Rita meant to accomplish by bringing in reinforcements, but in the end, she accomplished quite a bit in ensuring that I thought her too nuts to interact with again.

Story Sent in by Angela:

Craig was from a larger town than my own, about 30 miles west of me.  We met online.  On our first date, he and I were walking on the back streets of my hometown, toward one of the two restaurants that existed there, when we passed an open manhole surrounded by warning tape and construction pylons.

He stopped and stared at it.  "I've always wanted to try this," he said, then stepped over the warning tape and climbed down the manhole without hesitation.

"What are you doing?" I asked, aghast.

He said, "I'll send you a postcard," then disappeared down the hole.

"Come back!" I yelled, but he didn't respond.  I looked around.  No one else was about, and I wasn't about to enter the manhole myself, so I yelled for him to come back a few more times, then sat beside the open manhole and waited.

A car pulled up and stopped.  The driver, a middle-aged woman, pointed at the manhole and asked, "Is someone down there?"

Not wanting to go into details, I said, "My fiance dropped my ring down there, and he's going to get it."

The woman shook her head and said, "You poor thing.  Oh well," and then sped away.

About five minutes later, Craig climbed out of the hole, soaking wet from head to toe, and smelling pretty bad.  He said, "It's pitch black down there, but there was a ledge."

He stepped closer to me and I recoiled.  "What?" he asked, "This is just sweat.  It was hot as hell.  When we get to the restaurant, I'll paper towel off, or use one of those heat-blowing machines."

I said, "I'd rather not go out with you.  You just climbed into a sewer."

"Come on!" he said, "This is just sweat!  It'll towel right off!  you won't even know!"

I walked away from him, leaving him wet, smelly, and without a date.  What on earth he was thinking, I'll never know.

Email Sent in by Dorian:

I am interested!  Do you play base ball?  I like base ball!  There is scen in movie where man asks woman"do you like bas ball?"  she says "yes" and he THROWS BASE BALL AT HER!!!! LOL

Don't throw base balls at me lol.  A sporty man is great!  I like all ball sports and specially base ball.  My friend played kickball once and she hit the ball with her privates!  LOL!!!!!! 

If you have any questions for me just ask!!!!!!!

Trudy

Story Sent in by Paul:

Melissa and I had a nice date.  I took her out to dinner and we had a nice long walk afterward.  It was pleasant, we hugged goodbye, and I looked forward to a second date with her.  After returning home, I went to bed.

At 3:20am, my phone rang, waking me up.  It was Melissa.  I picked it up.

"Hi!" she said, "I miss you!"

I replied, "At three in the morning?"

She said, "I miss you all the time."

"Okay.  I'll call you tomorrow."

We hung up, but she texted me a moment later: "Miss you!"  Thanks.  Go to sleep.

The next morning, at six, my phone rang again.  It was Melissa.  I switched it to silent mode and went back to bed.

When I finally woke up, I saw that I had missed five calls from her.  I decided that I'd call her back after breakfast.  During breakfast, she called, and I finally picked up.

"Hey!" she said, "Did you see that I called?"

"Yes," I replied, "I just woke up."

"I miss you!  Do you miss me?"

"I do, but you don't have to call that often."

"But I miss you.  And you just said you miss me, too.  So where's the problem?  You know, you really should pick up when someone calls."

"My phone was on silent, and calling six times in a short span is pretty… weird."

"Not if two people miss each other.  Like us.  What are you doing today?"

"I'm going to run some errands and see some friends."

"I'll go with you!"

I laughed.  "No."

"No?  Why not?  You miss me.  And I miss you."

"We just had one date.  We need a little time apart before the next one, don't we?"

"That doesn't make sense.  If you really miss me, then–"

"Maybe you're a bit too into me."

She gasped, and made it sound like she was crying.  "I-I… I just really had a great time with you and I thought that you did, too."

"I did.  Six calls in a row is a little much though, isn't it?"

"But I miss you!  Oh God, I miss you."

"Maybe we'll see each other soon."

"Not soon.  Now!"

I stood up from breakfast.  "I'm going to take a shower, so–"

"Don't go!"

"I can't take my phone into the shower."

"Put me on speaker!"

"I'm not going to talk to you while I'm in the shower.  I'll be in touch later, okay?"

She started bawling, and I hung up.  While I was in the shower, she called a dozen times.  All day long, she called, and all into the night.  I ignored each of her calls and messages.  They went around the clock for about three straight days.  I wondered when she slept.  After a few weeks, though, the calls became fewer and fewer until they finally stopped completely.

Profile Submitted by Nancy:

The six things I could never do without

1. A needy girl with a princess complex.
2. Someone who never shuts up.
3. Someone who tells me to never hang out with my friends.
4. Someone who cries and whines all the time.
5. Someone who breaks things when things don't go her way.
6. Someone who's none of the above, because every bitch I've ever dated is one OR MORE of those things.  WTF is wrong with women??  STAY AWAY FROM THEM.  THEY ARE ALL NUTS.

Story Submitted by Lenore:

I couldn't believe it when Drake emailed me.  I knew him from high school, although it seemed like he didn't remember me at all.  We had even shared some of the same friends, so that was a little strange.

We hadn't ever spoken much, but we had only been out of high school for about five years.  Still, he was a nice, good-looking guy, and I thought that it would be a good excuse to catch up, if nothing else.

I agreed to meet him in a park, and I made it there before him and sat down on a bench.  He arrived and I stood up to hug him.

He made for my lips and I dodged away.  He went for them again and I dodged again.  Then, he clasped my face firmly in his hands and dragged me toward his lips, but I planted my hand on his face and dug in with my fingers.  He tore away.

"Five years for this shit?" he yelled, "Fuck you!"  He gave me the finger and stomped away.

Profile Submitted by Reggie:

The most private thing I'm willing to admit

i like buying stuffed animals that have blue fur and biting their heads off.  harder than you think and always in the same room of the attic.

Profile Submitted by Elise:


How I'm ever going to climb out of the six figures of debt I'm currently in.  Where does the money go???  I work hard 24/7! 



Nothin much.  Just hanging around.

Email Submitted by Lara:

if i could go back in time i would meet u when u were a baby and then be friends with u.  i wouldn't be a baby to and grow up with u.  we'd just be friends, me the age i am now (i am 25) and u as a baby.  friends friends.  man and baby.

Ned

Story Submitted by Steven:

Tina and I had been together for a few weeks, and had planned a weekend camping trip to the Poconos.  We packed and headed off.  By noon on the first day, we were up in the mountains, miles away from anyone, anything, and decent cell phone service.

We had been having a nice time, and then it was time for lunch.  At a site, we opened our packs and pulled out food, including a couple of cans of vegetables. 

"You have the can opener?" Tina asked me.

I had said that I'd bring it, and I thought that I had.  However, upon searching through my packs, I found that I didn't. 

"I'm getting hungry, here," Tina said, becoming agitated.  I was also hungry, and I searched high and low for the can opener that simply wasn't there.

"I can't find it," I admitted, "But I can probably use my knife to pry the lids open."

"You forgot a can opener?" she asked.

"Yes, but I can use my–"

"Holy fuck.  You forgot a can opener?  Are you fucking retarded?  I'm starving!"

I repeated, "I think I can do it with my knife."  She picked up her pack, shouldered it, and stormed away.  "Where are you going?" I called after her.  She yelled back, "To find a man who has a can opener!"

I yelled back, "I can open them with my knife!"  She kept going, and I wasn't about to chase her.  Less than five minutes later, I had two cans open, thanks to my knife.  I ate my lunch and decided to wait for her to return.

One hour turned into two, and two turned into three.  It was mid-afternoon, and I was worried.  I called for her over and over, but there was no response.  The only thing I could think of was that she had circled back to the car.

I returned to it and found her sitting, leaning against it.  When she saw me, she sprang up at once.  I said, "I had the cans opened in minutes.  Want some?"

She replied, "Why did it take you so long to come looking for me?"

I said, "Why should I have had to look for you in the first place?  You stomped off on your own.  Now, do you want something to eat?"

"I'm not hungry."

"You said you were starving before."

She said, "I want to go home."

It wasn't a big deal.  I could always return to hike on my own or with another friend.  My main goal was to slide this whiny psycho out of my life as quickly as possible.

I shrugged, said, "Okay," and opened the car.  I put my bag inside and reached for hers.

"No," she said, "I'm not riding with you.  You've treated me like shit all day.  I'm walking."

She turned and started on her long journey.  "It's a 20-mile walk to anywhere," I called after her, "Let me drive you."

She said, "I'd rather die out here," and kept going.

I wasn't about to play games.  I had given her plenty of chances to be nice.  I jumped into my car and drove away.

Three hours later, I was almost back home when I received a text from her: "Some fucking strangers had to drive me to the closest gas station.  You come and pick me up right the fuck now."

I wonder how she ever made it home.

Story Submitted by Patrick:

Eva and I met on the Internet, and I liked her at once.  She was bubbly, gregarious, and a lot of fun.  She was also rather attractive, which didn't hurt at all.  We made plans to meet at a restaurant on a forthcoming Friday evening.

Over the phone, she asked, "Can you pick me up?  My uncle borrowed my car for a week-long hunting extravaganza."

"Sure thing."

We continued to talk all through the week, and the day before, she called to tell me, "Good news: I can meet you at the restaurant.  My uncle came back a day early from his hunting trip and I have the car."

Worked for me.  I met her at the restaurant, and we had a nice time.  Afterward, we went for a stroll around town, and she bought a tall bedside lamp at a thrift store.  I helped her carry it to her car.

She opened her trunk, and what we saw within changed everything.

A bloody carcass - huge, and wrapped in layers of plastic.  She screamed, jumped back, and yelled, "Oh my God!"

It was truly a horror show.  Two large, bloody clumps of… something.  A deer?  No idea.  But I was quick to slam the trunk shut and turn to Eva, who was pale and trembling, up against another car.

"You okay?" I asked her.

She asked, "Will you drive me home?  I don't want to ride with that thing.  It makes me want to puke."

I put my arm around her, led her to my car, dropped her off at her house, and said goodnight.  Presumably, she sent her uncle or another family member to go and pick up her car from where it was parked.

Afterward, she told me that she thought she had smelled something weird in her car on the way over to our date, but she figured that it was just an aroma that her car had picked up on her uncle's hunting trip.  We went out on a few more dates and are friends, now.  Still, it was a first date that I'll never forget.

Story Submitted by Jessica:

Bobby and I met while we were counselors at a summer camp.  We spent a summer as friends, and when it was over, we promised to keep in touch, which we did, sporadically, over the following year.

Our second summer together, things became a bit more passionate, with late-night trysts by the kayak shack and stolen kisses while cleaning up at lunch.

Bobby was a nice guy, but he was a bit too physically aggressive, and it turned me off to him.  I spent less and less time with him, and the next time we were alone together, I told him that we'd probably be better off as friends.  Surprisingly, he agreed, and even gave me a hug.  It went a lot better than I thought it would, and I was glad.

The next day, several camp groups were gathered together in the baseball field, waiting in line at the equipment shed for ball supplies.  Bobby's group lined up next to mine, and I waved at him.  He gave me a dirty look, and so I turned back to my own counselor friends and campers.

A few moments later, from behind, I felt rough hands on my waist, then the same hands jamming down my shorts, grabbing my underwear, and yanking it up, all within a matter of a second.

I, my co-counselors, and the surrounding campers screamed, but I had the presence of mind to turn and swing my arm into the face of my assailant: Bobby.

The side of my forearm cracked him hard, right below the eye.  He yelled and stumbled back, then said, "You bitch!" and kicked dirt at me, then took off, away from me and his campers.

I was too stunned from the situation to say anything, but Melissa, one of my fellow counselors, said, "You've got to tell the camp director."

I did, and Bobby was apparently fired.  I never found out the particulars, as I never saw him again after that.  His friends never spoke to me, and I wasn't about to ask, because frankly, I didn't care.

Story Submitted by Walter:

I was out on my date with Audrey, and as far as I could tell, it was going well.  We had a good dinner with flowing conversation.  When we left the restaurant, it was still early in the evening, and as we walked past a particularly ritzy apartment building, she stopped and pointed up at it.

"I've always wanted to go in here," she said.

I suggested, "So let's do it."

We went inside, and there was a security desk, but no sign of a guard.  We could just walk on by and explore, which is exactly what we did.  We checked out the downstairs lobby, with its mirrors, chandeliers, and large, expensive-looking armchairs.  A fountain bubbled out of the floor, a place for the wealthy to contemplate their lives amidst so much gaudy crap.

Finally, we made it to to the elevators, and of course, we hit the button for the penthouse.  While we were in the elevator, I couldn't help but notice that Audrey stepped away from me, as far as she could go.  At the time, I didn't think much of it, but perhaps I should've paid closer attention, in retrospect.

The doors opened and a pocket of warm air hit us.  There was an expansive patio with grey and white checkered tiles, a glass ceiling, and tall potted plants.

I went to step out with Audrey, but she put a hand on my shoulder and said, "Wait," then she stepped out herself and went on, "I want to, you know... check..." then she jumped back into the elevator, hit two columns of buttons, and jumped out.

Maybe I was a little surprised.  Maybe it was the ugly, triumphant smile on her face.  Whatever it was, even though I could've easily followed her out of the elevator, I didn't.  I waited, watching her as the doors closed.

On the next floor down, the elevator stopped, and I stepped out of it.  Once it closed and continued on its long journey, I hit the down button, and another elevator arrived to whisk me down to the ground floor in speed and style.  Maybe not style, but definitely faster than otherwise.

When I arrived in the lobby, there was no sign of Audrey, but I thought that it would be fun to wait for her.

I'm not sure what she was doing, but it took her about 10 minutes to arrive in an elevator to the lobby.  When the doors slid open, I smiled and approached her.

She yelped and hit a button, then hit it again, and then started slapping and punching at the button console when the doors didn't close immediately.  "Come on," she yelled, "Come on!  He's gonna eat me!"

Her behavior amused me, and I reached out slowly, towards the doors, as if to grab her.  She jumped back and pressed herself against the back wall of the elevator as the doors closed.

I wasn't sure if she was playing around or not, so I texted her to ask exactly that.  She texted back, "KEEP AWAY FROM ME JERK!!!"

Just in case, I waited for a while in the lobby, but she never came down.  Guessing that she had somehow changed her mind about our date, I left, assuming that I'd hear from her if it was all a game.

She never contacted me, and I never contacted her.  So it went.

Story Submitted by Marci:

Will and I met online. He messaged me first, and aside from a few days during which he inexplicably went dark, we were in touch often. He asked me out to a date in a nearby town.

I arrived early at our meeting place, by a row of stores, and I sat on a bench. The time of our date came and went with no sign of him.

Twenty minutes rolled by and he finally showed up, in a t-shirt and cutoff jeans, dragging a wooden bat with him.

"You're late," I said.

He replied, "I know."

I pointed to his bat. "What's that for?"

He glanced down at it, as if it was his first time seeing it, and was surprised that he had brought it along. "Oh, this?" he asked, "In case I need to, you know, bat something."

"Would you mind leaving it in your car?"

He sighed and looked down, like I had just asked him to perform a monumental task. Finally, he nodded and said, "Be right back."

He walked off, and I returned to my spot on the bench. He didn't return for a while, and I called him up to ask him where bs was.

He said, "I'm putting the bat in my car, like you said."

I asked, "Why is it taking you so long?"

He replied, "My car's at home, and home's three miles away."

"You walked here?"

"Yeah. With my bat."

I thought for a moment, then said, "Maybe we should call it a night."

Silence from his end of the phone, then, "All right."

I went home, never heard from him or his bat again, and that was fine by me.

**Find a peculiar profile online?  Copy and paste it over to abadcaseofthedates at gmail dot com.  Click here to learn more about it!**

Story Submitted by Dorri:

I was out to dinner with Jeremy, a guy I met online, and it was pretty clear that there wasn't any chemistry.  He was a bit shorter than advertised, wore a too-unbuttoned shirt, and had a habit of constantly licking his top row of teeth while giving me a sultry look.  No thanks.

Despite that, I did my best to maintain a good conversation with him, but somehow or other, he turned it to his abilities as a love-maker.

He said, "You might find that I'm a great fuck."  I laughed, and at the same time planned my escape from this strange man.  He went on, "I can prove it."

"I would rather you didn't," I said.

He replied, "Not with you.  I wouldn't touch you for a million bucks.  I meant with other women.  Point to any woman in here.  Go on."

I scanned the room and pointed to a couple, having dinner at a table about 15 feet away.  At once, Jeremy stood, ran his hand through his hair, and walked over to them.  I watched as he spoke to them both in a quiet voice, the man and woman traded looks, then Jeremy turned and pointed to me, and they both looked at me and smiled.  Then the man said something I couldn't hear to Jeremy, and Jeremy walked back to the table with a big smile.

I said, "You're still in one piece."

He replied, "I told them that I was a great fuck and that you didn't think I was.  Now they both want to have sex with me, and we're going to as soon as we all leave the restaurant."

"Uh-huh.  What did you really tell them?"

"What I just said."

The other couple finished their dinner first, and they stood up.  The man came over to our table and said to us, "We appreciate the offer, but I think we'll pass."

"What offer?" I asked him.  He glanced at Jeremy, who might have turned a shade paler.  The man said, "The offer for a foursome."

"Pfffft!" I laughed out loud and pointed at Jeremy.  "You're a liar!"

The man watched this, then put his hands up and said, "I'm out.  Have a good night."  He turned, joined his companion, and presumably left.

As for Jeremy, he didn't say a word to me for the rest of our extremely short dinner.  He silently paid the bill, I thanked him, finished my drink, and left.

Story Submitted by Tommy:

I met Liz on a Christian dating site.  I'm not really practicing, and it wasn't the only dating site that I was using at the time.  I just wanted to have irons in a few fires.

Liz came across as smart and funny.  She was a petite brunette who was a member of a baseball league.  I sent her a message, she responded, and she seemed normal enough to ask out on a date.

We met up one night for dinner after she had played a ballgame.  Her mood was low, as her team had lost.  I did my best to reassure her and to take her mind off of the loss.  It worked for a little while, and we traded playful sarcasm back and forth.

At one point, after we discussed how much we practiced (or didn't practice - she claimed to be at about my belief level) the faith, she said, "I'm on a date with the least-Christian Christian on the planet."

I replied, "Those are some tall words from someone who Jesus won't even help win a ballgame."

Oops.  She didn't like that.  Her wry smile faded and she said, "That wasn't necessary, you jerk."

I replied, "Sorry.  I was just kidding around."

"You just wait until I'm 33."

Hoping that she was back to joking around, I smiled and asked, "What happens when you're 33?"

She replied, "I become the Messiah.  And believe me, I have a list of people to damn."

"The Messiah?  How do you figure?"

She said, "I went on a mission trip to Israel a year and a half ago.  While we were there, we went into some caves near Jerusalem, and an angel told me that I'd become the Messiah when I hit 33."

"What did the angel look like?"

"It was dark.  I couldn't see him.  But I can't wait.  I'm going to fix everything, and everyone who pisses me off is going to regret it."

I let out a laugh, but she silenced me with a look.  Gone was the lighthearted girl of a few minutes ago.  The mood had changed, and she gave me a heavy stare.  "Fine," she said, "Don't believe me.  Get your fun in now, because I'll remember everyone who laughed at me along the way, and they're a huge list."

"Can you perform miracles?" I asked.

"I'm not the Messiah yet, but yeah.  I can.  I've turned water into wine already."

I pushed my water glass toward her, hoping to see a demonstration.  She shook her head and said, "I don't do it gratuitously.  I only perform miracles when necessary."

"It was necessary once for you to turn water into wine?"

She frowned and shifted in her seat.  "I've healed people in the hospital, okay?"

"So why aren't you there every day, healing the sick?  They could probably use someone with your talents."

"I told you, the powers won't start until I'm 33."

I said, "But you told me that you've already turned water into wine and healed the sick.  You're not 33 yet, so–"

"Shut up!" she yelled, and I did.  She went on, "I'm the fucking Messiah!  Just because I'm a woman or because you don't have faith or because you haven't seen a miracle happen doesn't mean that it's not true!  People like you make me so impatient, I might just move it up!"

"I'm sorry… move what up?"

"Armageddon.  The rapture.  It's supposed to happen when I'm 33, but I could probably ask God to start it sooner."

"You'd start Armageddon earlier just because I don't believe that a little girl from Los Angeles is the Messiah?"

"I can't wait to hear you say that when you're screaming into Satan's mighty maw.  Now if you'll excuse me, I have plans to attend to."  At that, she stood up and actually left me there, at the table.  Our food order was on its way, I had just had dinner with the Messiah herself, and my water was still water.

Last I checked, she's still on the dating site.  No explicit mention on her profile about her special abilities, although there's a line that reads, "I have a secret that I'll only tell the worthy."  Hmmm.

**Find a peculiar profile online?  Copy and paste it over to abadcaseofthedates at gmail dot com.  Click here to learn more about it!**

Story Submitted by Elizabeth:

I met Craig through a mutual friend. I was newly divorced and ready to get my mojo back. Craig was an airline pilot who was also newly divorced. He seemed nice enough, and we decided to go to a local restaurant for our first date.

He picked me up in his red sports car with the top down. The first thing I noticed was that his toupee was crooked.  Once we sat down at the restaurant, we were seated in a booth, and he chose to sit next to me, rather than across.

We ordered our dinners and just after the waitress left the table, he leaned over and licked my face.

My first instinct was to punch him, but I held back and asked, "What the hell was that about?"

He replied, "Butterfly kisses for you, my dear."

"Don't lick me again."

We ate, and when the bill came, he leaned in again, his mouth open for a another lick.

I shoved him away and said, "Back off!"

He moved to the other side of the table and pulled out his phone.  "I'm just going to call me ex-wife," he said, "At least I'll be with somebody tonight."

The phone call was short.  He asked her if he could come over, and she apparently told him that he'd better not.  He hung up his phone and asked me, "Is it cool if I go home with you?"

"No."

We went our separate ways, and on my way home, he called me to ask if I had changed my mind.  I told him that I hadn't.  He told me to let him know once I did.  I sure will.

**Find a peculiar profile online?  Copy and paste it over to abadcaseofthedates at gmail dot com.  Click here to learn more about it!**

Story Submitted by Tim:

Sonia called me up on the day of our date to tell me that she was in the hospital to receive stitches for an accident, and that we'd likely have to postpone the date.  I asked her what had happened, and she said that she had tripped and fell onto concrete.  I offered to give her a ride or help out however I could, but she said that she'd be fine and that we could reschedule for the following week.

We were in touch over the next week, and that Thursday, she told me over the phone that again, she needed stitches for another slip.  I quipped, "Maybe you should take to wearing kneepads when you go out of your house."

She replied, "That would detract from the fun of it."

"The fun of it?"

"Yeah.  I didn't slip and fall.  I was riding behind a friend's car on an old skateboard.  We tied it to the bumper and my friend did about 30.  It was awesome until I fell off."

"That sounds dangerous."

"It is, but we've been doing it for years, so it's okay."

"How often have you fallen off the skateboard?"

She replied, "Oh, maybe one out of every five times.  It's my own fault.  I have a technique which makes hanging on easy, but I keep experimenting with different ways to do it."

"Maybe you should stop."

"No."

"Okay.  So see you this weekend?"

"Yeah!"

Our postponed date was that Saturday.  I was looking forward to meeting her, although I was expecting her to be a patchwork assembly of stitches, gauze, and bruises.  The more I thought about it, the less I saw a potential future with her, as the idea of worrying constantly about someone with such a stupid hobby wasn't all that attractive to me.

Sure enough, she called me about two hours before the date to say, "Yeah, so I went for another skateboard ride to blow off stress, and you'll be happy to know that I don't need stitches.  I fell off, though, and I got a bit banged up.  I'm sorry to do this, but could we reschedule again?"

"No."

**Find a peculiar profile online?  Copy and paste it over to abadcaseofthedates at gmail dot com.  Click here to learn more about it!**

Story Submitted by Jill:

Chris was a guy I met online two years ago, and was the main reason why I quit the online dating world.  We agreed to drive separately to a restaurant for a first date.  For all intents and purposes, he seemed nice and normal.

Over the course of dinner, though, Chris asked me a strange question: "Does your yard need some leaf-blowing?"

I asked him, "What's that supposed to mean?"

He replied, "Nothing.  Just curious if you have excess leaves in your yard.  I'd offer to use my leaf blower to clean it up."

I said, "I think my yard's fine, but thanks for the offer."

He nodded, and that was the last we spoke of it.  It was a weird thing to ask at first, and unsettling.  However, the more time that passed, the more I simply chalked it up to his eccentricity, which was, for the most part, endearing.

After dinner, we said goodnight and went our separate ways, as we both had work in the morning.  On my way home, I thought that I'd likely go out with him again if he asked.

An hour and a half later, I was about to slip into bed when I heard the unmistakable sound of a leaf blower outside of my house.  It was around 10pm, and was sure to rouse the neighbors.  I looked out my window to see Chris going to work on my front yard, sweeping the leaf blower back and forth.

I ran out onto the front steps and yelled, "Chris!  Stop!"

He turned the blower off and waved at me.  "Just blowing your leaves," he said, as if it was all normal and completely expected.  As if it was my bad to have stopped him from performing such a vital service in the first place.  How silly of me.

I said, "Get out of my yard!  What the hell?  It's ten o'clock!  How do you know where I live?"

He said, "I followed you here after our date, then I went home to grab my blower and come back here.  I'm sorry if this is too late.  I can be by tomorrow morning before work."

I replied, "You're nuts.  Get out of my yard and never come back.  I'm calling the cops."

I went inside and locked the door behind me.  I watched out the window as he carried his blower into his car across the street and took off.

A single email arrived from him the next day: "Sorry.  Just trying to help.  Call me."

I didn't, and luckily for him, he never pulled a stunt like that again.

Email Submitted by James:

Hey James!

Thanks again for taking me out last night.  I had a good time with you…. overall.

The thing is, James, to put it delicately, you came across as just about everything that I don't like about guys.  You were way too inquisitive and I felt like you were just compiling information to be used in stalking me.

I liked how polite you were, but it was too much and obviously fake.  No need to pretend to be polite if you're really not at all that way.  At least that's the impression that you gave me though I may be wrong.

Also you were thinking about sex the whole time.  Don't try to deny: I could tell.  Not going to happen!

Also, when I asked you how your dinner was, you said that it was "really good" but didn't ask me how I enjoyed mine.  You weren't the only one who was enjoying dinner.  I felt it is important for me to say that, and now I have.

Despite these, thanks for the good time.  Maybe again someday…

Nancy

**Find a peculiar profile online?  Copy and paste it over to abadcaseofthedates at gmail dot com.  Click here to learn more about it!**    

Story Submitted by Evelyn:

Caleb emailed me and his pleasant demeanor charmed me into accepting a first date offer.  He asked me out to a coffee shop, and we met there on a Saturday afternoon, then sat down with our coffees at a table by a window.

He said, "What I do on first dates is a little unusual, but I think it's the best way to ensure that if there's a second date, then it'll be worth both of our time."

"Okay…"

He leaned forward and looked into my eyes.  After about 10 seconds, I cracked up, but he said, "Shh!" and kept looking at me.

I said, "I don't get it.  What are we doing?"

He said, "I'm drinking your essence.  You don't need words to do that."

"Drinking my essence?"

"Shh."

"Drinking my essence?"

"Yes.  Shh."

For a minute, I followed suit and stared him right back.  I couldn't do it for too long, though.  I cracked up again, and he gave me an exasperated, "Shh!"

"Well what do you expect?" I asked, "Are we going to spend the whole date having a staring contest?"

"Shh," he said, "It's not staring.  There's blinking involved.  I'm just drinking your essence."

"How long will it take?"

"As long as it takes.  Shh."

"Can we maybe talk for a bit?  That will probably tell you more about me than staring into my eyes."

"I already know a lot about you just from drinking your essence these past few moments."

"Such as?"

He took a deep breath and said, "You're the youngest of your siblings, you studied something in college completely different from what you're doing now, you love to travel, and you're into Baroque art."

I gasped.  "It's all true!"  He sat back with a smirk.  I went on, "Especially seeing as it's all things I had in my profile or wrote you about previously.  I'm amazed."

He stared back at me with renewed vigor.  "Shh," he said.

I let him drink my essence for another minute before saying, "So?"

He said, "You prefer candlelight to light bulbs, you like the smell of flowers, and you like being nice to people."

I replied, "Like that couldn't be said about a lot of people.  Why not try learning about me through regular conversation?"

He said, "I'm trying to drink your essence, but you won't stop talking.  It's like you have a disease that prevents you from shutting up."  He laughed, then went on, "You just won't shut up!  You can't stop talking!  It's unbelievable!"

I stood up with my drink and said, "Well, I won't bother you with my talking anymore.  How about that?"

I turned and left.  Behind me, I heard him say, "And there you go again!  Even when you're leaving, you just can't stop talking!  Yap yap yap yap yap!"

For the sake of all women everywhere, I served him a big, drinkable cup of "going home alone" that night.

**Find a peculiar profile online?  Copy and paste it over to abadcaseofthedates at gmail dot com.  Click here to learn more about it!**   

Profile Submitted by Rose:

About me and who I'm looking for:

I share a name with a very popular and distinctive storybook character.  Whenever I meet someone in person, the first thing they say to me is: "Hey, just like that character!  Ha ha ha!"  I used to list it on here because I thought it was amusing.  Then, every message I got was from someone asking me about it, so I no longer have it on here.

Let me be clear: if you make a single crack about my name, then that will be grounds for immediate end of date.  I take it very seriously, and no, I have no intention of changing it.  I used to let jokes roll off me, but they happen too often now.  It stops!  Plain and simple.  I swear the next person who cracks about my name on a date, I will WALK IN FRONT OF A BUS.

**Find a peculiar profile online?  Copy and paste it over to abadcaseofthedates at gmail dot com.  Click here to learn more about it!**  

Story Submitted by Justin:

Fiona and I met at a party that mutual friends threw. She had come there with another guy ("Not my boyfriend," she told me) and we spent a good amount of time talking. She gave me her number, and the next thing you knew, we were on a date.

Fiona was a musician, and she asked me if I wanted to hear her play her guitar after dinner. I did, and after we were done, she led me to her car, and she pulled out a guitar. We walked to a nearby park bench, we sat down, and she played.

It took less than a minute for me to realize that she had likely not been a guitar player for very long. In fact, I wondered if she had ever picked it up before that evening. I don't think she formed a single cohesive chord, although her singing voice was good.

She finished playing that first song and I told her, "Very good. You have a great voice."

She thanked me, then launched into another song. Again, she was basically just strumming and moving her hands about at random. She sang along, but there was no rhyme nor reason to her playing. It was just plain strumming.

"I've been playing for five years," she told me, "I've written some original songs that I want to put onto an album."

"Your playing is sort of... experimental," I offered.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, your voice is great. The playing is... not like anything I've heard before."

She beamed and said, "Thanks!"

"Have you taken lessons?"

She laughed and asked, "Do you really think I need them? I'm a natural. Name a song and I'll play it."

I named the one of the few songs I knew how to play, myself: If I Had a Hammer. She butchered it. I asked her if I could try it. She handed me the guitar, and I played it, a mistake here or there, but ultimately at least it sounded like the song.

She shook her head as I played and said, "You're doing a few things wrong." I handed her the guitar and she stumbled through it again.

I said, "But you're not really playing the tune. It's mostly random strumming."

She said, "It might sound that way to an untrained ear, but I can assure you, I'm playing flawlessly."

I replied, "You're just strumming randomly.  Half of the time you're not even making chords."

"Okay.  Everyone I've ever played for has told me how good I am.  Your jealousy is showing."

I said, "It's honesty.  You have a nice voice, but I think your playing could use some work."

"My playing is flawless.  You made fifty mistakes on a little folk song.  Count how many I make on it."

She played something, which I guessed she thought was If I Had a Hammer again.  No chords, no tune, just strumming and her voice.  Once she was done, she asked, "How many mistakes, Jimi Hendrix?"

"None.  You can't make mistakes on a song you're not playing to begin with."

"I'm going to be big," she said, "You wait and see!"

She jammed a bit more until she stopped for a bit and said, "You're messing me up.  Leave me, please."

I did as she asked.  I haven't yet seen her name lighting up any marquees, but that could also be because I haven't been looking for it.

**Find a peculiar profile online?  Copy and paste it over to abadcaseofthedates at gmail dot com.  Click here to learn more about it!** 

Story Submitted by Gaetano:

I had arranged to take Sandy out on a date on a nice summer evening. We had planned to meet at an outdoor restaurant with seating right on a river, but she called me a little before to ask me if I could meet her at a friend's house first, and a bit earlier. It was strange, but I thought it was an opportunity to spend more time with her, so I told her I'd do it.

I pulled up to a ramshackle brownstone in a bad neighborhood, full of closely-built homes with paint and siding chipping and peeling seemingly in unison. I parked my car and knocked on the rotting door to the address that Sandy had specified.

An angry-looking guy in an undershirt opened the door and yelled, "What do you want?"

I said, "I'm here for Sandy."

"No you're not!" he yelled, then slammed the door.

I called Sandy. It went to voicemail and I left a message. A minute later, she called back and said, "Come around back. We just need help setting up the lawn furniture."

I squeezed through an alleyway and found Sandy and two other guys, the first angry guy from before, and another, taller angry-looking guy, who I'll call angry guy number two. The three of then stood among a small pile of tangled lawn furniture.

The angry guys looked at me and pointed at the copious lawn ornaments scattered throughout the cramped backyard: flamingoes, gnomes, and plastic plants. They yelled, "Get those out of the way!"

I turned to Sandy and said, "If they're going to talk to me that way, then I'm leaving. What the hell is this?"

Sandy rolled her eyes at them and said, "It's fine. They just need help setting up their mother's lawn furniture."

Angry guy number two stepped closer to me and said, "Stop talking to her! Move the shit!"

I said to Sandy, "I'm going to wait for you in my car. I didn't sign up for this."

As I left the backyard, one of the angry guys yelled, "Sandy's not going to join you! She's on our lawn!"

I waited out in front, in my car, for about 10 minutes before leaving. I never heard from Sandy, so I hope that the whole lawn furniture thing worked out for her.

Story Submitted by Grace:

On my date with Tim, he picked me up from where I worked. On our way to dinner, I noticed that he wasn't wearing a seat belt.

I asked him about it and he said, "I don't wear seat belts. My best friend's brother died in a car wreck after the seat belt he was in jammed while the car was on fire."

I asked, "Don't you think you're far more likely to die in a crash because you're not wearing one?"

He replied, "Ask my best friend's brother. Oh wait! You can't! He's dead! Thanks for bringing it up."

I was silent after that, and we made it to dinner without incident. Dinner was a bit awkward, as he didn't say much, and when he did, it was all about how I shouldn't wear a seat belt.

He said, "And what you said before was false. You're actually far more likely to die if you are wearing one. I read it in some magazine. They did this huge study. Seat Belts Monthly magazine, or something."

"Seat Belts Monthly?"

"Yeah. I'm positive."

I was unaware that there existed such a magazine. We talked about a few other topics, he paid the check, I thanked him, and we climbed back into his car.

I put on my seat belt and he asked, "What are you doing?"

"Putting on my seat belt. You don't have to."

He replied, "First of all, I know for a fact that I don't have to: my car, my rules. That being the case, I don't want you to wear yours. Try riding without it."

I told him, "I'm putting my seat belt on. You do what you want."

He stepped out of the car and said to me, "Step out with me, for a minute."

I did. He walked around his car, opened the trunk, pulled out a short hunting knife, came over to my side, and sliced through the passenger-side seat belt, letting it flop down, onto the seat. "That fixes that, then," he said.

He tossed the knife back into the trunk, closed it, then walked back to his side of the car. He said to me, "Ready to go, now?"

I said, "I'm going to call a friend to pick me up."

"Whatever," he said, then jumped into the car and drove away. I then called a friend, who came by to pick me up. We had a good laugh over Tim.

Email Submitted by Fred:

Explain this please: one of your pictures has you with a mustache. The other two don't. This really pisses me off about men and maybe you can shed some light on it: what's with the posting of photos of facial hair? Do you see women posting photos of themselves with facial hair???

Let me break this down for you: monkeys have facial hair. It grows and is natural. Elk have facial hair. Elephants have facial hair! They can't control it! But despite all of humankind's advancements, we can't invent a man who doesn't have a freaking beard!

I dont know if you have one now or not, but shave it off or don't contact me ever.

Kelli

Story Submitted by Heath:

Maddie and I met on a dating site. I had just come back from a two-week trip hiking in the Carolinas. I told her, "It was so beautiful. If you haven't been, it's worth your time."

"Wow," she said, "I love the Carolinas! I've been there five times!"

She told me a bit about her trips to the Carolinas, we talked a bit more, and I asked her out on a date. There was an outdoor barbecue place in the area that we both liked, so we went there for lunch.

We grabbed food, sat down at one of the wooden picnic tables, and talked. Not too long into our conversation, she said, "I've never actually been to North Carolina. Or South Carolina. Either Carolina."

Surprised, but willing to let it slide, I said, "Why would you say that you did?"

She said, "You said they were beautiful, so I just wanted to say that I had been somewhere that you thought was beautiful."

"Okay. Well, you should go there someday."

She apologized again, then pulled out a half-burned candle and said, "Let's make it more romantic." She lit it with a lighter and set it on the table. "Romantic, see?" she said, then knocked it over with a finger.

I blew it out and she gave me an open-mouthed stare of doom. She asked, "What was that for?"

I replied, "You knocked over a candle on a wooden table," thinking that this response was a suitable explanation.

It wasn't, it seemed. Again, she asked, "What did you do that for? Are you, like, against romance or something?"

"No, but I'm against flaming, agonizing death. Or destruction of property. In that order."

She looked me straight in the eye and said, "You really are insane." She then picked up the candle, re-lit it, and put it back on the table. "Instant romance!" she said, then flicked it over again!

I blew it out once more, but this time, she took a swipe at my head with her hand, as if to cuff me. I leaned back, and she missed.

I jumped up and said, "What was that for?"

She said, "It's for all who hate romance, like you obviously do."

Then it was my turn to stare at her. I grabbed my food tray, as I still wanted my lunch, said, "See you around," and walked off, as quickly as I could.

"Romance hater!" she called after me. Yep, she had that right.

**Find a peculiar profile online?  Copy and paste it over to abadcaseofthedates at gmail dot com.  Click here to learn more about it!**

Story Submitted by Jeff:

I took Moira to an aquarium for our first date.  She enjoyed seeing the penguins, the fish, and the fossil exhibit.  I bought us two tickets to the beluga whale show, thinking that she would similarly enjoy it.

I was wrong.  The entire time, while the whales jumped, swam, and performed various tricks with their trainers, she had her arms folded and alternated staring daggers at the whales and at me.  It finally became uncomfortable enough for me to say, "What's wrong?"

She said, "Those poor whales!  They're forced to perform silly tricks for humans while they should be out in the ocean!  It's shameful!"

I said, "All of the other fish in here are kept out of the oceans, too.  You seemed to like looking at them."

"Whales aren't fish!  They know that they're in captivity!  Fish don't know any better, but whales are smart, and they obviously hate being in here."

I watched as a whale jumped into the air and grabbed a fish.  I'm not sure what a frustrated whale looks like, but these didn't seem too upset with their lives.  Then again, perhaps Moira had done copious whale mood research.

She didn't say another word, and after the show, I followed her as she approached an aquarium attendant.  She asked, "How long have these whales been in captivity?"

The attendant said, "Since close to birth."

Moira asked, sounding horrified, "So they were taken away from their parents?"

"The whales in this show were actually rescued.  We're take excellent care of them, here."

Moira retorted, "Not better than their parents would have!"  She stomped away and I followed her to a corner.  She said, half to herself and half to me, "I have to bust them out of here."

I asked, "Maybe we should go."

"You can go.  I'm going to find out how to empty the tanks.  There's got to be some way to do this."

Again, I tried.  "Come on, Moira.  You want some lunch?"

She yelled, "How could you think about lunch when these poor creatures are forced to perform tricks for their entire lives?  What if that was you?  Or your children?"

"Doing back flips for free food?  Count me in."

She shook her head, dismissively.  "Okay, adios," she said, and walked away from me, clearly not wanting to be followed.

I walked after her a little way, to try and talk some sense into her.  She looked inside of the whale performance space, peering up and down, likely trying to find an escape route for the imprisoned whales within.  She said no more to me, and I said, "Goodbye," with no response from her.  I never heard from her again, after that.

Main RSS (everything):
http://www.abadcaseofthedates.com/feeds/posts/default

If you'd like to subscribe to a specific feed based on type of post, here you are:

Stories Only:
http://www.abadcaseofthedates.com/feeds/posts/default/-/Stories

Sketchy Emails Only:
http://www.abadcaseofthedates.com/feeds/posts/default/-/Sketchy E-mails

Peculiar Profiles Only:
http://www.abadcaseofthedates.com/feeds/posts/default/-/Peculiar Profiles

Thanks for reading and for sending in your stories!

- JMG

 **Find a peculiar profile online?  Copy and paste it over to abadcaseofthedates at gmail dot com.  Click here to learn more about it!**

Email Submitted by Edna:

You should not respond to this message because I am a respectful, nice guy.  Clearly this is terible.  The only way you will fid out if I tell the truth is if we go out on a date!

I am friends with lots of women and know where the line is between now and yes.  How will you ever know if I am lying unless you decide to go out with me?

Or you don't have to go out with me and you will never know.  Never know my mountainous desires and deep hopes for my life, my health, and my strong future.

HUMANS ARE THE BLOODS OF THIS PLANET.  It is your bloods that I want to have be throwing through me.  The only way is to meet and to learn about each other and let it all flow.  So much of the flow is flow.  Flow with the universe and piece and love….

so much piece and love,
Dennis

**Find a peculiar profile online?  Copy and paste it over to abadcaseofthedates at gmail dot com.  Click here to learn more about it!**

Story Submitted by Tricia:

Greg and I met on a dating site. He wrote to me, and i read on his profile that he liked about five of my favorite authors. Thinking that we'd likely have a lot in common, I wrote him back and we corresponded for a while.

He told me that he was going on a trip to England for a week, but that he'd want to meet for a date upon his return.

The first three days he was gone, he wrote me long emails about what he had seen, and attached photos of various sights. It was great to receive and read them, but after those first three days, he went dark: no emails, photos, or communications of any kind. It was unexpected, but it didn't bother me too much, as I guessed that he was off having a good time in the countryside, in a place without Internet access, or something similar. I looked forward to catching up with him upon his return.

After his date of return, I heard nothing from him for several days. I wrote him, "How was your trip?"

He wrote back, "I'd like to meet and talk about what to do next."

Strange, but we had already established a good dialogue, so we met up at a cafe the following Saturday evening.

He didn't look very pleased to see me, and despite the fact that he paid for my drink, he didn't at all carry himself as if we were on a date. He seemed nervous, barely looked me in the eye, and didn't smile once.

We sat down, and I asked him to tell me about his trip. I said, "I didn't hear from you, so you better have had a good time!"

He replied, as if consoling someone at a funeral, "It was a good time, aside from the fact that I got a girl pregnant."

Not quite the good time I had expected him to have had. "Come again?"

He replied, "I went over there to meet a girl I had talked to online but never met in person. We had sex, and she lied about using birth control, so now she's probably pregnant."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm going to have to seriously consider moving there, now."

He instantly shifted from "cool online guy" to "possibly friend, but probably not." I said, "It sounds like you have a lot going on. We didn't have to go out on this date, if things are so different in your life, now."

He said, "I didn't want to turn down one of the last possibilities I had for frivolous sex," then winked at me.

I said, "Good luck with that."

He stood and said, "Well, this was a waste of good diaper money, then. Diaper money down the drain."

He downed his drink and left without a word.

**Find a peculiar profile online?  Copy and paste it over to abadcaseofthedates at gmail dot com.  Click here to learn more about it!**

Profile Submitted by Erin:

**Find a peculiar profile online?  Copy and paste it over to abadcaseofthedates at gmail dot com.  Click here to learn more about it!**

Story Submitted by Conrad:

Crystal and I had made plans to meet up at the nearby university bookstore on a Wednesday evening.  She was a recent graduate in management, was a pretty blonde, and had just ended a long-term relationship with her college boyfriend.

We met up, I bought her a coffee, and we sat down.  I asked her, "What's next for you, now that you've graduated?"

She said, "I have a lot of life goals, but I'm speaking to some friends of mine in law.  Working on a side project."

"What's that?" I asked.

"I shouldn't tell you.  It's big, though.  It will change everything."

"Okay, so don't tell me.  Good luck with it."

She said, "You could ask me questions about it."

I replied, "I'm good not knowing, if you'd rather not discuss it."

"Oh, you're not fun."

"Fine," I said, then, as a joke, I asked, "Does it involve murder?"

She blinked, then smiled.  "Yeah.  It kind of does.  I'm impressed.  I'm trying to figure out how to murder my ex and make it look accidental."

"Which class taught you that?"

"The class of hard knocks.  Don't worry, I mean, he deserves it.  You can't go telling anyone, okay?"

Not taking her too seriously, I said, "Okay."

Maybe she was dissatisfied with my level of disinterest, because she pulled out a notepad and showed me a long list of plans and diagrams, including several pictures of a guy, who I assumed to be her ex, with various bullets, arrows, and cannonballs in his head.

"He's going to die," she informed me, "It's just a matter of figuring out how to do it without being caught.  I have a lot of friends who are lawyers and cops.  They're helping me figure it out."

"That's nice of them."

"I'm sorry to have involved you.  I didn't really want to, but you gave me no choice."

"Don't worry about it."

"I'm not.  It'll go off so flawlessly that even if you go to the cops and tell them what I've told you, there won't be any evidence.  You'd be arrested for making a false report!"

"I won't tell anyone."

"I can't wait to kill him.  The look on his face will be priceless."

"No doubt about that.  He'll be so surprised.  For a second.  Then he'll be dead and no longer surprised."

"He'll still be surprised," she reassured me, "He'll have all of eternity to reflect on what he did to me."

"What did he do to you?"

She leaned in and said, "He cheated on me."

I waited for more, but that had apparently been the limit of his transgressions.  I had expected that he had killed a beloved family member or put a curse of constant diarrhea upon her or something.

"That's it?" I asked.

She gave me a surprised look, then sat back and said, "Well, maybe he's not the only guy who deserves death."

Talk about a conversation stopper.  I changed the subject to something or other and ended the date as quickly as I could.  Shame that someone so pretty and college-educated had to be so nuts.

**Find a peculiar profile online?  Copy and paste it over to abadcaseofthedates at gmail dot com.  Click here to learn more about it!**

Story Submitted by Herman:

Denise and I had a quick first date, as she had accidentally double-booked herself with a family function. She said, "I'll make it up to you. We can meet up at my place, next time." I liked the sound of that.

She gave me her address, and I parked across the street from her apartment building and rang her buzzer. She let me in and led me to her apartment on the second floor.

As she pulled out her key, she asked, "Do you mind pests?"

I said, "What, like bratty little kids?"

"No, like bugs and rodents. You know. Vermin."

"Oh. Vermin. I can't say I care much for them. Why do you ask?"

She opened the door to her apartment and switched on a light. The entire wooden floor rippled with movement as roaches, ants, and things that looked like fuzzy-bug-half-breeds scattered around, crawling over each other, bumping into walls, and pouring in every direction.

When some of them ran past us, out the apartment door, she said, "Oops. There they go," then took off her shoes, turned to me, and said, "Would you mind removing your shoes? I don't want to dirty up the place."

I said, "Actually, I'd like to keep my shoes on, if that's okay. What with all of the bugs and other surprises crawling around on the floor."

She said, "They're actually very clean animals. Cleaner than most people."

I took another step or two onto something sticky, and said, "I'm keeping my shoes on."

She said, "I'd really prefer it if you took them off. My apartment and everything in it is clean."

"Even the bugs?"

"Especially the bugs, now come in."

I did a quick survey of the area, and saw piles of clothes, plates, take out containers, and a smell that was similar to cat urine. I was out of there.

I said, "I don't really want to, so I'm not going to."

"You're afraid of bugs?"

"No, but I'm allergic to abject filth."

She didn't like that, and gave me a stare. "I'd like you to show me a cleaner apartment than this."

"Bye, Denise." I felt bad, just leaving her there, but she seemed dead set on staying in a place where I would not have wanted to breathe the air, much less sit down.

**Find a peculiar profile online?  Copy and paste it over to abadcaseofthedates at gmail dot com.  Click here to learn more about it!**

Email Submitted by Ruth:

You don't have a boyfriend and that's why you're on this site. There could be one of many reasons for it. Perhaps your last boyfriend went gay or went for another woman. Perhaps the problem was with you or perhaps with him. Either way you're single now and you are damaged goods.

If you're not totally nuts because of your damage, we can work on a solid relationship together made out of titanium alloy (a strong metal) instead of straw or sticks. I will build it with you.

Write back detailing your damage and I will give you an estimate. Like a car, but something I can have sex with.

Tony

**Find a peculiar profile online?  Copy and paste it over to abadcaseofthedates at gmail dot com.  Click here to learn more about it!** 

Story Submitted by Ellen:

I was in a restaurant on my first date with Andrew.  He was a big guy who worked for a local contractor.  We were talking about some of the more daring things we had done in life: skydiving, bungee jumping, camping on safari, hiking the Appalachian Trail, and so on.

At one point, he asked me, "Hey, you like guns?"

I was jolted stiff by the question, and answered, "Not really."

He said, "Really?  I thought you were into crazy, daring kinds of stuff."

I said, "I can be, but you can be crazy and daring without guns."

He said, "But what's more crazy and daring that possibly putting your own life into your own hands?  Or putting someone else's in yours?"

"I'm just not into guns.  Sorry."  The topic changed, and I didn't think too much else about it.

After dinner, we left the restaurant and he told me that he had something to show me in his car.  We walked over to it.  It was parked right on the side of a busy street, under a streetlight.  He opened his trunk.

Inside was a custom rack with at least a half-dozen guns affixed to it.  "What do you think?" he asked, proudly.

I said, "Great.  You're obviously passionate about your hobby."

"It's more than a hobby," he said, "If someone tried to mess with us tonight, I would've capped them."

Apart from the fact that I couldn't imagine anyone "messing with us" in the well-populated, upper-middle-class neighborhood in which we stood, nothing sets my heart a-flutter quite like the declaration of willingness to perform an act of grievous harm to someone else for my sake.

I said, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it.  I can pop any one of these sisters off and unload it faster than you can say, 'Give me all your money.'"

"Okay."

"Want to take a ride?"

I suggested, "Maybe we could go for a walk?"  Back to my car?  And away from you?

He said, "I meant a ride in my trunk!  Ha ha ha ha ha!" his laughter was loud and startling, and he slammed his trunk closed, making me jump.

"What are you so nervous about?" he asked, "I'm not going to shoot you.  Unless you want me to."

He took a step or two closer to me, and I stepped away.  "I think I'm just going to go," I said.

"You do that.  You do that," he said, then turned back to his car, gave me a smirk, and slowly reopened his trunk.

I turned and hurried down the sidewalk, his booming laughter following me down the block.  I didn't stop moving until I made it back to my car and drove far away from the crazy man and his guns.

**Find a peculiar profile online?  Copy and paste it over to abadcaseofthedates at gmail dot com.  Click here to learn more about it!**

Profile Submitted by Isaac:

The most private thing I'm willing to admit here:

I am somehow responsible in one way shape or form for the partial disfigurement of three immediate family members.  All before I was ten years old.  Cousins, fires, and old barns don't mix.  I am dead serious.

**Find a peculiar profile online?  Copy and paste it over to abadcaseofthedates at gmail dot com.  Click here to learn more about it!**

Profile Submitted by Renee:

(Renee says: "From a recent profile match on eHarmony:")

The things I can't live without are:

• Vags
• Food
• Gas X

You encounter someone online.  If they write you an off-putting message before the date, it's a sketchy email.  If you end up on a date and it doesn't work out, it's a bad date story.  But what about those folks who don't even make the cut to email phase – those folks who paint such unflattering pictures of themselves on their own profiles, that you wonder how they ever managed to claw out from their parents' basements?

What is it that makes you pass on someone's profile in the first place?


Enter Peculiar Profiles.

Perhaps we can all learn a thing or two from people, looking for love, who write (actual) lines such as, "I am an all-expert of squirrel-tasting," "I run an unlicensed therapy clinic out of my own home," and "I'm proud to be a guy who can lactate."

Send A Bad Case of the Dates screen grabs or pasted text from the strangest profiles that you encounter.  We'll post 'em up, alongside your daily dose of bad date stories and sketchy emails.  Thank you!

abadcaseofthedates at gmail dot com

- JMG

Story Submitted by John:

Mia and I met online and flirted back and forth for weeks.  She was the one who first brought up the idea of meeting in person, and she said, "I know a great place with good, free food."

I had planned to pay for our first date, but she was adamant about meeting me at this "great, free" place, so she gave me the address and a time, and I confirmed it.

The day of the date, I drove to the address, 1333 Sycamore Street, to find that it was a sprawling retirement village.  Figuring that I had made a mistake, I circled the block and checked the numbers again.  Sure enough, 1333 Sycamore Street was an old-age center.  I called Mia and asked her, "Do you have the address right?  Or I possibly misheard you.  It's an elderly complex."

"Park in any of the yellow spaces," Mia said, excitedly.  "I can't wait to show you this place.  I'll meet you inside the main building."

I parked in the first yellow space I saw, near what I guessed was the main building.  I walked inside to a large atrium, lined with potted plants and portraits of old people.  She was waiting for me, and she was dressed in a set of pale blue scrubs.  She handed me a set and said, "Put these on.  We'll fool them, easy."

"Fool them?"

She said, "The old people won't care, but the workers here can be bitchy about it.  It's legal.  Don't worry."

I had the vaguest of feelings of what she was planning, but I was curious enough to see it through at least a little bit more.  I went back to my car to change into the scrubs and returned to the building.  She led me a short way to a dining hall, where dozens of elderly persons were eating at long white tables.  She approached a cart that was stacked with food trays, she grabbed one, and she walked past me, back toward the tables.

I stopped her and whispered, "That probably belongs to somebody."

She replied, "They always have extras.  Shut up and grab one."

Once we were sitting down over our trays of oatmeal, peaches, and boiled chicken, she gave me a big smile and shoveled spoonfuls of oatmeal into her mouth.

"Isn't this great?" she asked, "Free old-people food!"

For me, dates are less about how much I pay and more about atmosphere and the person I'm with.  I have to say that eating dinner in a sterile, white cafeteria that smelled of ammonia and was filled with very elderly people wasn't exactly the kind of candlelit dinner I had imagined.

"Mmm," she said, finishing her tray of food and wiping her mouth on her sleeve.  She stood up and I asked her, "Where are you going?"

She replied, "To get more food!  Want some?  It's all free!"

I had barely picked at anything, and I told her, "No, I'm all right."

She returned with two more trays and set them down in front of us.  I said, "I appreciate the extra tray, but I think I'll be fine with just this first one."

She gave me a look, then said, "They're both for me.  I know you're perfectly capable of getting your own, if you want seconds."

There wasn't much in the way of conversation, as she was too busy eating.  When I finished eating from my tray, she said, "And the best part is that we can just leave the trays here.  Someone will come by to clean them up for us!"

I picked up my tray and brought it to the used cart tray, all the same.  "Wow," she said, following me there, "Look at you.  Ready to go?"

We walked out of the main building together, she gave me a hug, said, "Goodnight!" and walked briskly away to her car.  I returned to my vehicle, changed out of the scrubs, returned them inside the building, and drove home, never to hear from Mia again.