Email Sent in by Will:

Hey you. I like your hair. I'm Violet. I'm a natural blonde but I always putted a purple stripe in my hair until last year.

Last year, my best friend said to me that I either had to make out with him or cut off my purple stripe. I wasn't ever going to make out with him so I cut off my stripe. I didn't like the way my hair looked without it so I'm growing it back in. (I made out with my friend anyway though LOL)

What do you do for fun. I like growing out my hair and putting in a purple stripe. Can't wait to do that again!!! It always looked great and if it makes guys like that then all the better ;)

Violet

Story Sent in by Anne:

Fred and I were in the middle of dinner on our first date when he excused himself to go to the bathroom. He returned with a big grin.

"What is it?" I asked him.

He replied, "You're in for a surprise. Just wait."

I didn't have a reason to think that he was up to anything nefarious, so I continued talking to him until about 15 minutes later, when he looked at his phone, smiled, and excused himself again.

I anticipated what I thought was the surprise with a mixture of slight concern but mostly excitement. Not a minute later, a guy with long hair and a little taller than Fred arrived at the table.

"Anne?" he asked, "I'm Joseph. Fred's friend."

I looked around the restaurant for Fred but didn't see him. Confused, I asked, "What's this about? Is Fred okay?"

Joseph said, "Yeah. He called me in to let you down for him. He's not interested in seeing you anymore."

For clarification, I asked, "You're here to end the date… for Fred?"

Joseph said, "Yeah. You're just not his type. Sorry. He wants to know if you'd mind paying for your half of the meal, or if you'd like him to pay for it."

I replied, "Excuse me? Seeing as he sent you to end the date in the middle of things, I think that him paying for the date is the least he could do."

Joseph nodded. "That's fine. He will."

To be sure that I wasn't misunderstanding things, I asked Joseph, "Is this really for real? This isn't a joke?"

Joseph said, "It isn't. Sorry."

I said, "Oh, you have nothing to be sorry about. I don't date cowards, myself," and then I stood up.

"Fred's in the men's room," Joseph said, "He doesn't like confrontation. We'll take care of everything from here. Have a good night."

"I will," I said, then walked straight for the men's room, opened the door, and shouted in, "Hey Fred! You're a coward!"

I waited for a response. None came, so I closed the door and left.

Emails Sent in by Sara:

(Sara says: "I received these two messages in my email box one morning. Enough said.")


I recognize the house in the background of your photo. I walk by it when I walk around my neighborhood. We live in the same neighborhood! Already this is easy.

Where are my manners? I'm John. I already know where you live. I can be by tonight for a first meeting. Nothing fancy. A hello how are you kind of thing would be fine. Swear to god I'm not an obsessive guy. I just recognize the house and your profile says we live in the same town.

Maybe if I came by we could play a g-rated game of checkers or something. Swear it's totally not creepy. Just because I recognize the house doesn't mean anything, but maybe it's a sign. Could it be a good sign? I already know where that house is. I can walk by there right now if I wanted to although it's late out.

John


**********************************

After I sent that last message I wasn't sure if you'd believe me so I walked to that house (is it your house? it might not be. maybe just some family members or even friends live there so it may not be your house at all) and I took a photo of myself at it. Now I'm positive that it's the same house.

I added the photo to my profile so you can see it now. It's there for you. You can tell me if it's your house or not. Let me know and if you're up I can be by again quick.

John

Story Sent in by Sinclair:

Felicia and I were finishing dinner after a pleasant first date. The check came and I paid it. Felicia applauded loudly.

"What's that for?" I asked her.

She said, "You paid for dinner! Bravo!" She continued to clap.

"You're welcome."

She didn't stop clapping. After a few more seconds, I said, "Okay, thanks. That's enough."

Instead of stopping, she clapped louder and raised her hands even higher. She said, "Woo! Hooray Sinclair!"

Heads swiveled to us. I said, "Okay, Felicia. Thank you. That's really enough."

"Woo!" she shouted again, then turned her head around at the different staring people as she continued to applaud, "Can we get some love for Sinclair, here? Yay Sinclair!"

"Stop clapping," I said.

She didn't. When the waitress returned with my change, and a funny look at Felicia, Felicia was still at it. I grabbed my change, left the tip, and stood up to go.

Felicia stood up too, and clapped all the way out of the restaurant. When we made it to the sidewalk in front, she was still clapping.

"Stop clapping!" I repeated, "What the hell?"

She shouted above her claps, "I want to, but I just can't stop! I can't stop clapping!" and then she laughed like a witch queen who'd just brewed a successful potion on top of a high mountain peak in a thunderstorm. Peals of great, raucous laughter erupted over the non-stop clapping.

I had planned to take her out for dessert, but instead I said, "I think I'm going to go."

She clapped louder and said, "Woo, Sinclair! He's heading out, give him a big hand!"

I gave a short bow to placate her, and then I hurried back to my car. She didn't follow me, but I heard her clapping until I was out of earshot.

Our date up until her clapping had actually been great. I had no indication that she was loony, but I'm grateful that she showed me the crazy that early in our relationship. First and last date.

Profile Sent in by Patrick:

About me:

The pictures on my profile are NOT of me. They are of my cousin. I put her pictures up because she needs a man and right now. She has not been sexed in ages. We have basically the same personality so I wrote the essays below. Just know that you are writing to someone who basically has my personality but looks like the girl in the photos. :)

Story Sent in by Sonia:

Phil wrote to me online, and though he seemed a bit scatterbrained, I liked his personality and when he asked me out to dinner, I went for it.

Just after sitting down together, he said, "I brought you a surprise!" then reached into a shopping bag he had brought and plunked down a stack of about a dozen pop tarts on the table.

"Pop tarts?" I said, "Uh, thanks?"

"I know you love them," he said, and pushed them across the table, in my direction.

I didn't take them. "Did I ever say that I liked pop tarts? I'm confused. I mean, I appreciate the gesture, but…"

He looked confused, then said, "Didn't you… aren't you the one… wait… yeah, it was definitely you. You're the one who likes pop tarts. I'm sure of it."

I replied, "Sorry, Phil. I think you must have me confused with someone else."

He said, "I'm positive. You really don't like pop tarts?"

I shook my head. "Sorry."

"Damn," he said, then took the pop tarts back and asked, "You don't mind if I eat one, do you?"

"Not at all."

He opened one up and ate it, then said, "Oh man, that's good," and opened up another and said, "I'm kind of glad that you're not the one who likes pop tarts. Now I get to have some."

"I'm glad."

"That's right!" he went on, "I'm seeing the one who likes pop tarts tomorrow! I'd better save some of these for her." He opened up another and ate it. "Last one. Promise," he said.

My excitement about him had considerably dimmed, and he spent most of our continuing time together eating pop tarts and talking about the date he was going to have the next day. "Not only does she like pop tarts, but she's also a champion tandem bike racer!"

By dinner's end, there were one and a half pop tarts left. He actually said, "I'll have to buy more for tomorrow's date! Why do they make them so delicious?"

I replied, "I don't really know, Phil."

He paid for dinner and I thanked him. As we left, he said, "Hey, I have a great idea: I'll write you to let you know how tomorrow's date goes. I may or may not buy more pop tarts for her, so we'll see."

"I look forward to it, Phil."

As promised, he wrote me to let me know that he thought that his date with pop-tart-biker girl went well, and that he did end up grabbing her more pop tarts. What a relief. I didn't write back.

Emails Sent in by Henry:

Do people ever tell u u look like brad pitt? thta's good cuz u dont knock u down a few pegs in ur photos u look like ur saying im the shit when clearly ur not. knock u down some pegs k.

my jb is police like. i never been in trouble with them and nor will i b. just that i see guys like u and i want 2 take u down so bad pretty rich boys who think they own the world or nothin. worlds a dangerous place boy and u wont have a big smile on ur face for long.

where do u live. i will come at u.

clara


********************************
Henry responds:

Dear Clara:

Thanks for your email. As for where I live, it's at your mother's house. Best time to see me would be before it gets dark.

Henry


********************************
Clara responds:

i will kill u i swear to christ almiyty. where u live u tell me now or i will hunt u down u dont know anything about my mom and she doesnt know u. why before dark u aferaid of the dark?


********************************
Henry responds:

Dear Clara:

I assure you: your mother knows me. Very, very, very well.

See you at her house this evening?

Henry


********************************
Clara responds:

ur dead meat. i know where u live now. haha didnt think id find out prety rich boy but i did and i will kill u.


********************************
Henry responds:

Dear Clara:

Your mother, aunts, and grandmothers have all sworn to protect me to the death. I hope you're ready, because you'll have a battle on your hands if you try anything.

Henry


********************************
(Henry says, "Unfortunately, she didn't write me back after that.")

Story Sent in by Wayne:

"There was something I kind of wanted to do tonight," said Vanessa, in the middle of our first-date dinner.

I asked, "What's that?"

She replied, "I got this bottle of perfume as a Christmas present. It's from Macy's. There's about half of it left, and now it stinks like something died in it."

She looked at me for a reaction, but I didn't discover the something she "kind of wanted to do" in her statement, so I waited for her to continue.

She did: "I tried to return it to Macy's today, but they wouldn't take it. It's their perfume and they wouldn't take it back."

"Probably because there's half of it left."

"Doesn't matter! The customer's always right. Anyway, we're near Macy's and I want to return it there tonight."

It seemed like a poor choice for a first-date activity, but she was adamant. She pulled out the bottle of perfume and showed it to me. It was, as she had said, half full. She invited me to smell it, and it smelled more like alcohol than anything else, but it wasn't awful.

I asked, "What makes you think they'll accept it now, if they didn't before?"

She replied, "Oh, this time it won't be up to them." She then changed the subject before I could question her further.

After dinner, we walked the half-mile to Macy's. I asked her, "What's your plan for returning it?"

She said, "I'm going to throw it through their window!" then laughed long and hard.

"How are you really going to return it?"

"I told you. Through their front window. It's dark and I'm fast."

I mused, "They'll have your fingerprints on the bottle, and what if your first throw doesn't break their window?"

"Oh, it'll break the window," she reassured me, "I'm way stronger than I look."

"What about your fingerprints on the bottle?"

"Hmmm."

They were still open when we arrived. In my attempts to talk her out of vandalism, my point about the fingerprints seemed to carry some weight. But her revenge wouldn't be stopped that easily.

She opened the bottle and poured some of the perfume out on the ground, right in front of the store's main door. She shook it, as apparently it wasn't pouring out fast enough for her. She then threw it on the ground, where it shattered.

"Run, run, run!" she said, and booked it right past me and into the night, without checking to see if I was following her or not.

I hurried back to my car, a half-mile away, and drove off. I don't know where she ended up, and I didn't hear from her again after that stunt.

Email Sent in by Jess:

THIS IS SERIOUS. YOU HAVE JUST WON $5000 AMERICAN.

I'm just kidding! Hi I'm Steven and I wish you all the success in the world! You are a young woman of a ripe age and the time is come for your to choose a mate! This happens to all women at this age. It is not publicized but it happens to all. Before you leave this age you will have a mate!

The reasons to choose me as a mate are numerous! I am flexi-flexi! This means that you can sleep how you like and I will still find a way to make "it" work. You know what I mean! I like it when you say "You have a good tail!" Then I will say "That is not a tail! That's my "front-man"!" Just kidding. No clarification needed because then we already make with the mating.

I am self made and have many business concerns. You can learn more about it on my blog and profile. I hope you contact me soon because you will soon no longer be a woman without a man. They turn into old women and then death will catch you!

Steven

Story Sent in by Angela:

Back in high school, one of my classmates, Jon, took me out to see a movie for our first date. In the middle of it, he jabbed me with his thumb.

I asked him, "What was that for?"

He replied, "I wanted to see if you were awake."

I whispered back, "I am. Don't do that again."

Five minutes later, he did it again. "Sorry," he said, "Wanted to make sure that you were awake."

I moved a seat away from him. He moved into my formerly occupied seat. I said, "Don't jab me again. Seriously."

A half-hour later, the film was almost over, and he jabbed me again, twice! This time, I stood up and left the theater, then called up a friend, Kayley, to come pick me up.

I had been waiting about 15 minutes for her when Jon came out and told me, "You missed the end of the movie."

I replied, "If you had stopped jabbing me when I asked you to, then I wouldn't have."

He said, "Just for that, I'm not going to tell you how it ends."

"Fine. My friend's coming to pick me up, so have a good night, I guess."

He said, "Don't leave. I was just having fun. Let me make it up to you. I'll take you and your friend out to dinner."

He apologized over and over, enough so that when Kayley arrived, I asked her if she'd be up for spending time with Jon and I for a little bit. Jon repeated that he'd pay for everything, and off we went to a Sonic, in Kayley's car. I sat in the front passenger seat, and Jon sat in back.

Once we had our food in the car, and Jon had paid for it, we ate. Not a minute later, from the back seat, Jon spewed a mix of milkshake and burger all over Kayley's windshield.

Kayley shouted, and I turned back to Jon at once. Burger and shake dribbled down his chin, and he laughed. "I'm sorry," he said, "I just thought of something funny. I swear I won't do it again." He took another big bite of his burger and swigged down more shake.

Kayley yelled, "You're cleaning this up!"

In response, Jon spewed out another mouthful of Sonic, this time all over Kayley and I, turning his head so that he was sure to hit both of us.

I said, "That's it," then jumped out of the car, opened his back door, and pulled at him. "Get out of the car!"

He was strong, but Kayley, thankfully, jumped out and pushed from the other side. He fought back for a little bit, then laughed and actually slid out himself.

"What are you going to do?" he asked us, "Just leave me here? You can't. My car's back at the theater, like seven miles away."

We jumped back into the car and locked the doors. He knocked on them. "Seriously, I'm sorry. Just let me back in."

Kayley turned on the car and shifted it into reverse. Jon's smile faded, and he yelled, "Seriously, you're not going to leave me here. You're not going to leave me here!"

He ran from the side of the car to the back, but Kayley was too quick. She backed out of the spot and burned rubber right out of the lot. Jon yelled, "Hey! Hey!" but we were gone.

The next time I saw him in school, he came up to me and said, "Hey, I made it back to my car. I jogged back and made it in a half-hour."

I said, "That's great."

"I was thinking: I don't think we should go out again."

Without hesitation, I said, "Me neither."

Profile Sent in by Kyle:

My self-summary

You should know that I have bed and darkness issues. When I was little, I believed that a goblin lived under my bed, ready to jump out and eat me if I at all left my bed during the night.

It might sound silly that I still believe it. I still cannot leave my bed during the night no matter where I'm staying. What really solidified it for me was in high school, when I had a friend stay over late since we were working on a project together. She went to use the bathroom then came back and the thing under my bed attacked her. It was brown and shriveled but had razor hooks for claws and ripped her into pieces. It then ate them but didn't get any bigger. It just stayed the same small size.

The police were called but without a body (it had swallowed her chunks whole) there was no evidence of murder. I was stuck cleaning up the blood on my floors and sheets. This has since scarred me and I miss my dead friend.


The most private thing I'm willing to admit

I'm afraid still of darkness and beds.

Story Sent in by Oliver:

I was out at a pub with a group of friends when I met Erin. One of my friends had brought her along, and she and I fell into conversation. We ended up talking for close to two and a half hours, and by the end of the evening, I had her number and a pretty good feeling about her.

Our first date was short, a learn-more-about-you-over-coffee thing. It was noncommittal and friendly, and I think that we both liked everything that we heard about the other, as there was a second date.

I had the idea to take her out for a picnic in a local park. It started out great, and my good feeling had grown into a great one. She had a great sense of humor and was very bright, two things together that had been lacking from any relationship I'd had in recent memory.

After we ate, she slid onto her back on the picnic blanket, and I lay down next to her. She pointed up at the partly cloudy sky and said, "That cloud looks like Australia."

I pointed to another and said, "That one looks like a baseball cap."

She pointed to a long one, closer to the horizon. "That one looks like a dinosaur's tail."

I said, "Or a very large toenail."

She said, "Fine. I'll settle this," then stood up and walked off. I jumped up and followed her to another couple, around our age, who sat on a nearby bench.

"Excuse me," Erin asked them, "Can you tell me what you think that cloud looks like?" She pointed to the long cloud in question. "We're having a disagreement that maybe you can settle."

The couple looked at the cloud and the guy said, "It looks like a short snake."

The girl said, "Or a long worm."

"Or a dinosaur's tail?" Erin asked, hopefully.

They looked at it again and the girl said, "I guess it could look like a dinosaur's tail. Sure."

Erin turned to me and said, "Told you! They think it looks like a dinosaur's tail."

I asked the couple, "Could it also look like a big toenail?"

The girl replied, "Absolutely."

I smiled at Erin, thinking that this was all in good fun. She turned red, said, "You're all in this together! It looks like a dinosaur's tail! You're all stupid!" and she stomped away.

Surprised, I left the staring couple behind and caught up with Erin. To my further shock, she was crying. I tried to talk to her, but all she would say was, "I want to go home."

Her home was a long walk, a semi-long bus ride, or a short drive away. I offered to drive her, but she said that she'd rather walk. As a last-ditch effort to save things, I told her, "Maybe dinosaur tails look like toenails to certain people."

She replied, "Shut the hell up. I'm going on vacation," and continued on her way.

I called her a couple of times after that date and left messages for her. She never responded. All over a stupid, toenail-shaped cloud.

Email Sent in by John:

(John says: I wrote to Mia on a dating site. She wrote me back once and then never replied to any of my further messages. I guessed that she wasn't interested and I forgot about her. Until she wrote me back, five years later:")


Hi John,

Sorry it's taken me so long to respond. I got married and divorced! Had two kids. Love them so much!!! Husband (guy I married) turned out to be a total asshole who cared nothing for them and so I'm back to find a good man. What have you been doing with yourself? Are you seeing anyone? Have you ever thought about being a dad? Just curious, perfect revenge against ex!

Mia

Story Sent in by Becky:

Tom and I had been going out for about a month when he asked me what I wanted for my birthday, which was about a week away. As my birthday fell on a weekday, and I work on weekdays, I told him, "You don't have to get me anything special. We can just go out to dinner."

He said, "That's girl-speak. I know what that means."

I thought he was just kidding around, and so I made no further mention of it. When the day of my birthday arrived, though, I was in for a shock.

I woke up to a literal farm in my front yard. Tom had apparently called up a party company and contracted with a petting zoo to set up animal pens, complete with two goats, two sheep, and a crate full of rabbits. It was their braying, in fact, that woke me up at seven in the morning.

I burst outside in my bathrobe and Tom stood there, beaming at me. "Surprise!" he said, "A little farm for your birthday!"

I said, "Thanks, but they're going to ruin my lawn, and I have to go to work in an hour and a half."

He said, "I figured you'd take the day off, since it's your birthday. We can spend it together. I contracted them for a few hours."

I felt awful, but I didn't like the idea of farm animals walking, eating, and defecating on my lawn while I was away at work. Never mind the noise and consideration for the neighbors. I asked Tom, as politely as possible, "I think these guys might have to pack up."

Tom replied, "They can't. I've already paid them in full, and the attendants are going to need bathrooms. You kind of have to stay. I'm sorry."

I replied, "I don't 'kind of have to' do anything. I appreciate this gesture, but I'm going to work today, and these guys have to leave."

Tom said, "What if we don't leave?"

I said, "I want them gone by an hour and a half, or I'm calling the cops. Seriously."

"Holy God," Tom said, "You're such a bitch."

He then turned back to the attendants and asked, loudly, if he could get his money back. I went inside and locked the door, peered out at the activity for a little bit, and then readied for work.

Every few minutes, I looked out a front-facing window, and it looked like the farm people were packing the animals and pens back into their two trucks.

I was almost ready when there was a knocking at my door. I opened it. It was Tom. The farm people had left, and my lawn looked okay, aside from a long divot that looked like something heavy had been dragged across it.

"I'm sorry…" Tom said.

I replied, "Tom, it's okay. I just have to get to work. Were you able to get your money back?"

"…but you're a bitch," he finished, and stomped away from my house.

"Don't come back!" I yelled after him, and slammed the door. Immature of me, perhaps, but for goodness' sake, who orders up a front yard zoo as a surprise for someone's birthday?

Profile Sent in by Melanie:

About me:

i like jigsaw puzzles and make my own. the biggest one i ever made had two pieces only (hahahaha) but it took up and entire kitchen floor and the pieces were made of cinderblox and bricks. 3d puzzle pieces that were impossible to lift. my wife was maaaad hahahahahahaha.

so i like working with my hands, obv. yes i had a wife but now i dont (where did she go?? is she dead?? did i kill her and stuff her in a wall?? nah. ahahahahahaha).  nah exwife's not dead she's living in tampa with her lover! sweet love to the sweet lover. she hated fun and now she's gone so i can be allll yours.

Story Sent in by Jules:

I met Stephanie online, and her profile essays were refreshing: well-written, clever, and enticing. I wrote to her and she wrote back almost at once. She seemed very excited to hear from me, and asked me, in that first response email, if I wanted to meet in person.

I wasn't used to a woman being so interested in meeting me after only one message. Still, I guessed that perhaps she had read something that she really liked in my profile, and that her exuberance was based off of that.

I asked her when she wanted to meet up. "Tonight!" came her reply. Well, okay.

We met up at a late-night cafe and sat down together. She looked great, and for the first several minutes of that, our first meeting, I thought that everything would turn out fine.

Then she said, "Are you still friends with anyone you've made out with?"

I hesitated, but replied, "Yes, why?"

She said, "They go or I go, bucko."

Again, a hesitation on my part. I asked, "Why does anyone need to go?"

She said, "Or you can just be a stupid bucko."

"Are you for real?" I remember asking her that at least twice.

She said, "That's how I'm working it."

"Okay," I said, disappointed, "Then maybe we should just be friends."

"Ugh!" she said, then groaned and tossed her head back, announcing loud enough for everyone in the place to hear, "This guy is a bucko. A class-A bucko."

People looked at her, then looked at each other, then looked away. She pointed at me, and said, "Bucko!" then shook her head as if she felt sorry for me, but again repeated, "Bucko. Well, what now?"

I wasn't sure what else she expected of me, so I asked her, "I think it's up to you. You can stay or go, I guess."

"You don't care?" she asked, then settled down into her seat and said, "If it's all the same to you then I'd like to stay here and call you 'bucko' a bit more. It's actually a lot of fun."

I replied, "Will you excuse me for just a sec?" I stood up and made for the door.

Behind me, I heard her yell, "Where are you going, bucko?" but I didn't bother to respond.

She wrote me the following message, which had arrived in my email box before I even made it home:

"Dear Bucko:

I'm sorry that you've seen fit to terminate a healthy, good thing that we had going. I felt like you and I were already old friends together, but if you just want to be an ass about it, then I guess I can't stop you, bucko.

One for old times' sake: bucko.

Stephanie."

Story Sent in by Erin:

I was the bad date on this one. David and I were friends in high school, and about a year after we graduated, he called me up and asked me if I wanted to go to a Reds game with him. I accepted.

The game started around 7pm. I had spent the day at my best friend's house, and David offered to pick me up there. What I'm sure poor David wasn't expecting was for me to have started taking shots of schnapps as soon as I arrived at my buddy's place.

Not that it's an excuse for my rudeness, but at 19 I wasn't quite familiar with my "limits," so to speak. When David arrived to pick me up, I was already drunk. I decided that it would be a good idea to bring a flask full of more liquor to the game.

We arrived there and I continued to drink, stumble across seats, fall down a few steps, be loud and obnoxious, and just generally be a drunk pain in the ass while sweet David got me some cotton candy and tried to laugh off my drunkenness.

At some point, I told David, "I'll be right back. Keep an eye on my purse. I'm going to the bathroom."

On my way, a couple of guy friends called me, said that they were also at the game, and asked me if I wanted to meet up with them by one of the food counters. Like the drunk 19-year-old that I was, I wandered around the stadium until I found them.

We ended up standing around drinking while poor David sat all alone in the stands. He eventually called my cell to ask me if I was okay and was extremely sweet when I slurred that I had essentially forgotten about him. I asked him to bring my purse and come find me.

About 45 minutes later, David walked up with my gigantic polka dot purse (having apparently endured many "cool purse, dude" comments along the way). By that time, the game was pretty much over and David asked me if I wanted him to take me back to my friend's house, to which I agreed.

On the way back, my stomach decided that it couldn't handle the cotton candy/schnapps concoction and I commanded David to pull over. Being that wasted, though, my aim was off and I ended up emptying the contents of my stomach all over the side of his new truck.

I called him the next day to apologize and he was incredibly gracious about it. He never asked me out for a second date (understandably), but we're still friends. Six years later I still feel terrible about the whole incident, and I hope poor David never again has to put up with an idiotic, embarrassing, inebriated date like me.

Email Sent in by Jenny:

I guess I'll start telling a funny story about myself:

Last summer I went to lolla and lost every1 I went with plus my friends phone died so he was using it when I lost them so I had no way to call any1 on top of all that I was ridiculously drunk since I stayed up all night before drinking slept 2hrs started drinking in the cab to the concert

so I took the red line to belmont and clark going home got off the train met 2 gay black guys and this girl got food with them some how ended up walking with them finding myself a block from my place then out of no where the 1 guy kissed me it was awkward and weird.

from
jason

P.S. I drink a lot work a lot went to culinary school addicted to tattoos. I have my whole back as a chicago theme my calf a zombie clown. I want a norman rockwell clown on the other calf being like the laugh now cry later faces but a good and evil with clowns lol.

I also have some pin up girls and other things on my arms. just living fast and dying young being a degenerate

Story Sent in by Larry:

I wrote to Laura online. She was short — 4'10". Her height, while notable, didn't bother me, and I wasn't going to bring it up if she didn't.

She did. She referred to herself, in her reply to me, as "Munchkin." She wrote:

"Munchkin was so happy to get your message! Munchkin is less than five feet tall, but Munchkin is pleased to make your acquaintance. Munchkin works as a nurse..."

It was a hilarious read, and I wrote her back to tell her that she didn't have to speak in the third person for my sake. She replied that she wouldn't do it anymore, but "most people find it cute." Anyway, other than that (and the fact that she signed all of her messages "Munchkin"), we had a good series of talks, and I asked her out on a date.

On the date, she repeatedly referred to herself in the third person, but kept also correcting herself, as if trying hard to not do it.

"Munchkin, I mean I, told the patient, 'Don't worry. Nurse Munchkin, I mean I, am here to help you.'"

She also apologized over and over, and I told her that she could call herself whatever she wanted. I wouldn't judge. She relaxed at that, a little bit, and slipped back into referring to herself as Munchkin at every opportunity.

Unexpectedly, after one such referral, she slapped herself, hard, in the face. Then she said, "Munchkin—" and then slapped herself again. She said, "I'm going to stop calling myself Munchkin for you. Every time I say Munchkin from now on, I will slap myself."

She slapped herself again. "I just said Munchkin again," then slapped herself again, and then grinned at me.

I said, "You don't have to do that. In fact, I wish you wouldn't."

"I have to. It's the only way Munchkin will learn." She slapped herself again, and kept smiling at me.

She slapped herself a few more times as dinner wore on. After each time, I asked her not to do it, but she ignored my pleas.

Thankfully, dinner ended and we went our separate ways. I wasn't planning to see her again, but before I left, I told her, "You can call yourself whatever you want. Just don't beat yourself up. Seriously."

In response, she gave me a big smile and slapped herself twice in the face. She then hugged me goodbye, and then, thankfully, the date was over.

Email Sent in by Chrissy:

(Chrissy says: "This was in response to a basic, 'Hi, how are you?' message that I sent.")


Hi Chrissy,

I am grateful for your message. The first of no doubt many that I will receive from you as we get to know each other and lay down among the sleeping.

Let me break it down for you. We are all large bugs. "We are mammals!" you protest but you are wrong. We eat the meat that eats the plants that lives in the ground with the bugs. Proof 1. Proof 2 is that we are but complex bugs. Proof 3 is we are bugs.

Our spindly hands not proof enough? We are subject to gravity like bugs and eat what we can from trashes like bugs. We annoy like bugs. You crush us and we are squashed like bugs. ALL people are bugs and you cannot regret what you are!

I am seeking a fellow bug with whom to nest and initiate a brood. Man sperm is like bug itself, tails thrashing against the walls of the primal juice cave.

I wish to learn more about you.

Sincerely,
Rufus

Story Sent in by Mandy:

Charles and I had been out on one date already. Although we met online, he seemed nice, polite, and normal.

That changed on our second date, when he offered to pick me up at my place to take me out to dinner and drinks. At the time we had arranged, he came to my door and I opened it up to find him standing there with a ream of paper.

"Happy anniversary," he said.

I didn't take the paper and asked him, "Of what?"

He said, "This is our first date anniversary: our second date. The first anniversary gift is traditionally paper."

I took the paper and said, "Thanks."

"Paper for our first anniversary!" he repeated.

"Yes. Ready to go?"

He groaned and said, "You could at least wish me a happy anniversary, too."

I replied, "I don't really consider a second date the 'first anniversary' of anything. Sorry."

He asked, "So you didn't get me anything?"

"No."

"I got you paper."

"You did."

He nodded, then looked away from me, as if deep in thought. He finally said, "I need some time to process this. May I go?"

I said, "Sure."

He left, and since then, I haven't heard from him.

Profile Sent in by Ella:

Who I'm looking for:

I baby sit my friends' kids sometimes and those kids eat evertything and anything. I have to pretend that I eat everything with them and so the person who I end up with his to be good with kids but also be good at making it look like you're eating shit when you're really not. I'm a pro at this and can teach you, but the kids are getting older and smarter and they know when I don't really eat.

I've come up with ways and written them down so that we can pracrtice together. Baby sitting is a big part of my life, and if you want to be any part of my life then you need to learn how to do this.

Also it wuld help if you learned how to talk while gargling. The kids looooooove this too!

Story Sent in by Stephen:

Maggie and I had maintained an online correspondence for a couple of weeks when I asked her out. She was a lapsed Christian with some pretty strong New Age beliefs. I didn't have a problem with that, as I try to be of open mind.

At our first dinner together, we had a good talk about ourselves and our various belief systems. I excused myself to go to the bathroom and when I came back, she seemed even more bubbly than she had previously been.

After about five minutes of talking, drinking my water, and walking some more, she became less animated and more visibly frustrated. She'd ask me, "How are you feeling?" every couple of minutes, as if it was expected that I would be feeling any different from a minute prior.

Finally, she said, "Maybe you should go to the bathroom again."

"Why?" I asked, "I feel fine."

"Just go," she said, "I might have a surprise for you."

Hesitant but curious, I went back to the bathroom and washed my hands for a minute or two, then returned. She had a big smile and I asked her, "Okay, where's the surprise?"

She replied, "Oh, you'll see. You'll love it."

After a few more minutes, she became more frustrated, as if the surprise, whatever it was, was supposed to somehow appear, but didn't.

"This is really pissing me off," she said, "Try going away one more time."

"No. What's the surprise?"

"I'm not telling."

"Then I'm not going anywhere."

"Fine!" she hollered, then took a vial of clear liquid out from her purse and poured its contents into my water glass.

I yanked my water away, allowing some of her concoction to spill upon the table. "What is that?" I asked her.

She said, "It's supposed to be love potion, but it's worthless!" She shoved it back into her purse.

"Have you been pouring that into my water all this time? What's in it?"

"All natural stuff, but it took me a month to brew and it's supposed to act instantly. It's worthless."

I replied, "You put some stuff in my water, hoping that I'd fall for you."

She said, "Well, it won't do any harm to you, and it's worthless."

"What was in it?"

"Worthless stuff."

I said, "If you don't tell me what was in it, I'm probably going to go."

"Nothing harmful!" she said, "Don't go!"

"Then tell me what was in it."

"It's secret."

"Okay. Bye." I up and left, as simple as that. She didn't try to follow me. Aside from some gas, I didn't feel any adverse effects, but I still have no idea what she put into my drink.

Story Sent in by Ed:

I discovered Beverly on a dating site and our early conversations went well. However, she mentioned something curious in her messages. She would consistently allude to her sister:

"My sister thinks you're cute."

"My sister thinks she's seen you before."

"Did you ever date my sister?"

She sent a photo along of a girl who I couldn't recall ever meeting. "Sorry," I wrote, "I never dated your sister."

Beverly replied, "She's pretty sure that you dated her and that you stood her up. She gave me lots of details about you: you are employed, you are over 5'5", and you shit daily."

I wrote back, "All of those are accurate, but I think that those apply to most guys, not just me. Are you playing me or what, here?"

She wrote back, "Nonononononononononono!!! I'm sorry! I'm just quoting what she said. Maybe it was all inside jokes with someone else. She must be wrong! I still want to meet you."

I had a bad feeling about the whole thing, but perhaps it was all a case of mistaken identity. Beverly was otherwise great, and so we met up at a coffee shop.

I was afraid that she'd show up with her sister but she didn't. We had a good conversation for a little while, and then her phone rang and she picked it up. It was her sister. She put the phone down and asked me, "Dinah, my sister, wants to talk to you."

I said, "She's interrupting our date. I'll talk to her some other time."

Beverly repeated my message to Dinah, and Beverly said to me, "She says it's urgent."

I said, "No way."

Beverly put the phone on speaker and said to Dinah, "Go ahead."

In the middle of the coffee shop, which was close to full, Dinah's voice rang clear over the speakerphone: "Hey you ass, you might be out with my sister, but you're definitely the shithead who stood me up two years ago. You're an asshole, and if you choose my sister over me, then I'll kill both of you."

Beverly took the phone off of speaker at that point and she said into it, "Want me to pick anything up for you while I'm out?"

Dinah presumably answered, and Beverly replied, "Okay. I'm out on a date now, talk to you soon!" and hung up.

Beverly then asked me, "So, tell me more about what you did in college."

I replied, "Did you not just hear what your sister said?"

Beverly said, "Yeah. We probably shouldn't date, you and I, huh?"

I said, "Is your sister nuts? I'm positive that she and I have never dated."

Beverly said, "Well, she's my sister, so I'll probably believe her over what a strange online guy says. Still, she doesn't get to tell me who to date and who to not date, so I guess it's up to you."

I was very gracious and polite to Beverly for the rest of the date, but that was the last time that I ever asked her out.

Story Sent in by Alexandra:

My first date with Jerry was supposed to be dinner and drinks, but he called me up just before it and asked me, "Hey, want to do something a little different?"

"Like what?"

"I'll meet you where we agreed, but I'm going to add something extra-special to the evening."

I was up for anything. Almost. As planned, we met up just outside of the restaurant. He gave me a hug and said, "Get in your car and follow me. We're going a little way out of town."

"Where?"

"Something you won't believe. Friends of mine, guys and girls, will be there. We're going alien hunting. Do you have a flashlight?"

Assuming that he was telling the truth, that other people would be there, I didn't see any harm in going. I'd have my car, and it sounded ridiculous, but fun. I followed him about 20 minutes out of town and we parked behind a small line of cars.

We jumped out of our cars, and I grabbed a flashlight from my trunk. Two other people, a guy and a girl, were standing by a nearby car, and we went up to them. Jerry clearly knew who they were.

They greeted us, and I introduced myself. Jerry informed me that one of his friends had an alien implant and that he (the friend) had it on good authority that the aliens were going to land in a nearby field that night.

The couple led us down, into the field. On our way down, Jerry turned to me and said, "Since this might be our last night on earth together," and then tried to kiss me. I pushed him away and he asked, "What's wrong?"

I replied, "I just met you and we're hunting aliens in a field. That's a lot farther than I'd usually go with a guy on a first date. Don't push your luck."

He hurried ahead to his friends, and ignored me for a short while.

We joined a group of four more people. They were crouched behind a rock and told us that they had seen all sorts of strange lights in the sky.

Jerry crept closer to me as they described them. He went to hold my hand. I slipped my hand away, but patted him on the shoulder. He went for my hand again. I slipped away once more. He whispered in my ear, "Aliens are coming. We have a better shot if we're making out."

"A better shot at what?"

"Living. Breathing the free air of tomorrow. Having children someday. Watching them breathe."

I laughed. Someone shouted, "Quiet! There they are!"

Everyone looked across the clearing. I saw nothing but darkness, although the stars I could see through the clouds were beautiful, if a little blotted by city light.

"Where?" someone asked.

I asked, "Which of you has the implant?"

"Me," said a tall guy with glasses. "They're coming to get it back tonight. It stores my memories."

Jerry grabbed my ass. I yelped. Someone said, "Shut up!"

I whispered to Jerry, "Seriously, I'm having a good time out here, but stop with the touchy-feely stuff." He tried to kiss me again, and I whacked at him with my flashlight.

"Oh my God!" he yelled, and several voices said, "Shut up!" "Dude, quiet!" "You're going to scare them away!"

He yelled, "Did you see what this bitch just did? I let her tag along and she won't give me any play!"

Implant guy said, "Seriously, Jerry, you're going to scare them away. Shut the hell up."

"Not until she leaves," Jerry said, "If I can't have her then none of you will! None of you!"

Tired of being overwhelmed by his immaturity, I said, "Fine!" and trudged back to my car.

Someone said, "Why'd you send her away? I liked her." That was nice to hear, but Jerry was a lunatic, and I didn't want to be around him anymore.

When I made it back to my car, I heard several of them screaming, but I'm sure they were just fooling around. I drove home, and I didn't hear from Jerry until the next day, when he sent me an email full of expletives, telling me how much better than me he was.

It ended with the line, "Oh, and if you're wondering if we met any aliens last night, WE DID. WE DID AND YOU DIDN'T!  HAH!"

If they seriously did, and if a guy like Jerry was our representative, then I'm sorry but we're doomed.

Profile Sent in by Lucinda:

About me:

love to watch and play football...looking forward to take responsibility as a man just to cater for my future wife and kids...i love hiphop and rnb...love all the good things of life...and make th best out of it..pls let me knw wot els u will lyk to know bout LEXZY..will hit back at exactly what u want...den u knw true love reigns..lol

First Date
prefer not to say..or lets see then we talk better..that will b d best any lucky 1 will definitely hope for.My partner is my love..my sister..my mom..pls wot other thing do u want..pls dont hesitate to tell me??

Profile Sent in by Connie:

Who I'm looking for:

Goth chicks, ritzy chicks, sloppy rural chicks, I've had em all. Can't say one impresses me more than any other. You all have the same pieces so what's it really come down to?

Some of you are fatter than others, others of you are thinner and smarter. Or stupider. Doesn't matter to me. What's inside counts only.

Besides guts what else you got inside you? Brains? Some of you have less than half of one, like a zombie gave up midway and onto fresher meals. Amazing to me: you have no manly parts but can still accept or reject me without having seen them. How this makes sense in our crazy society is anyone's guess. No man parts for you, but you still judge my whole prized gender. Unsure if this means anything to you, but I'm looking for something deeper than just a dumb "you're hot let's screw." More to life, more to love, PEECE, AIGHT??

Story Sent in by Martin:

Amelia and I meant to meet up in front of a restaurant for our first date. I made it there first, but she didn't show at the appointed time.

After a few minutes, I texted her, "Everything okay?"

She texted back, "Yep."

I replied, "You still coming?"

After five minutes, her response arrived: "Don't know."

I called her and asked if everything was okay. She said, "Sort of. I'll see you there. I just have something to take care of."

I asked, "How much longer do you think you'll be?"

"As long as I am, okay?"

I wanted to be fair, as perhaps it was something that she really had to do. Or perhaps it wasn't. Either way, she wasn't forthcoming, and I had a date with someone who was potentially leaving me out to dry.

I told her, "Twenty minutes and I'm leaving."

She said, "Fine," and hung up.

Ten minutes later, she called to ask, "How much time do I have left?"

I asked, "Why don't you tell me what's going on? I can wait a bit longer, but is everything okay?"

She paused, then replied, "I'm on the toilet. And it's a big one. My stomach won't shut up."

"Okay."

"Can you try talking to it? Tell it to shut up? It isn't listening to me."

"What?"

She said, "Okay, I have you on speakerphone. I'm putting it up to my stomach. Just talk to it and tell it to calm down."

"Uh, calm down, stomach. Calm down so, uh, Amelia and I can have a good date," which seemed increasingly unlikely.

All of a sudden, there was a tremendous rumble from her side of the conversation. It sounded like a stomach gurgle, but the worst one I've ever heard. Then I heard a sound that was like someone riffling through a pack of cards.

"Oh God!" she yelled, and the line went dead. I tried calling her back and texting her, but there was no response.

I went home, and never did hear from her again. I hope that she didn't die. I've heard it's an embarrassing way to be found.

Story Sent in by Courtney:

Robert contacted me online, and we maintained a correspondence for a couple of weeks before he asked me out.

When I arrived at the restaurant where we were supposed to meet, two women, around my age, approached me and one of them said, "Hey, are you meeting Robert here?"

I replied, "Yes, and you are?"

The girl said, "His girlfriend. Tell him that he can pick up his stuff from my backyard and to not contact me. Cool?"

I said, "Are you serious? How long have the two of you been together?"

She answered, "A year and a half. You will tell him, won't you? We have to go."

I nodded, and they left. About ten minutes later, Robert himself  showed up. I gave him the message, and he wasn't happy.

"That bitch! How did she know?" he asked over and over.

I asked him, "Date canceled, then?"

He said, "You want to come with me to pick up my stuff from her backyard? There's a lot and it'll go faster with two."

I said, "Sure. Let's go."

Just kidding! I said, "No. I think the date is canceled."

He cursed me out a little bit, but not as much as he cursed out his girlfriend. He stormed out, and I went home.

Email Sent in by Simon:

Lo and behold! You seem like a lot of fun. I'm Sandra. I only want to tell you the truth about me.

You might have heard that there's a girl on this site who had had some shall we call them "problems with men on this site." Perhaps these "problems" were caused by the men and not the girl herself. Yes yes yes. Maybe the men tried to take advantage of the girl and she had some very powerful people take care of the men for her. Maybe. Maybe those men now have different ideas on how to treat someone. Couldn't kill them, even though I may have wanted to.

In any event, let me put all rumors to rest: I am that girl and I will not suggest messing with me. You can if you want but there is considerable danger involved. I am not responsible if you mess with me and you end up in a few pieces. That's all you. Your choice completely.

Now that that unpleasantness is out of the way, what's your favorite food? Do you cook?

Sandra

Story Sent in by Martha:

Andrew found me online, and we talked for a week before meeting in person for a walk and dinner.

During our walk, he confided something in me: "I think that I'm somehow connected to the Devil."

I asked, "Like, you mean you're a hellraiser?"

He said, "No. I mean that I literally have some sort of connection to him. When I was young, my mother would always call me a little devil, and then in school, all the kids would call me devil boy. I have no idea why, as I never told any of them what my mother used to call me. I ended up playing for a hockey team called the devils, I was a devil three times for Halloween, candles blow out for no reason when I walk by them… there's no doubt that I'm some sort of dark entity."

I suggested, "Let's light a candle. See if it works."

He replied, "It doesn't happen always. Just sometimes."

"Oh. Maybe these are all just coincidences."

He said, "I thought that, once. Then a demon appeared to me in a dream and told me that I belonged to him."

"Maybe it was just a dream."

He blurted, "I'm connected to the devil, and you're just going to have to face it!"

I said, "I don't think you're really connected to the devil."

"Then how can I do this?" he asked, and stuck out his hand toward the sky, as if he meant to make it rain fire and brimstone. Nothing happened.

He then stretched his hand down toward the ground. "Come!  Come, come!" he yelled at the asphalt. Again, no results.

He sighed and said, "Something usually happens."

"What?"

"Something. Want to get dinner?"

At dinner, he told me all about how he had fallen into trances and climbed the mountains of hell and explored its caves. It was all very entertaining, and he even offered details about the sky in hell, the volcanoes, and what the wind smelled like ("It's really not that bad," he assured me).

After dinner, we meant to part ways, and he asked me if I'd go out with him again. I told him that I'd think about it, but the fact that he was devil spawn was likely not going to work in his favor.

"It rarely does," he confessed, "But I thought I'd give it a try. I'm going to try and make a meteor shower tonight. Be sure to look out your window before going to bed."

"I will."

I forgot to, so I missed out on the proof that I'm sure was apparent to anyone else watching the night sky.

Profile Sent in by Juanita:

About me:

Sometimes I wonder if being on a dating site is a colossal waste of time. The only messages I receive are ones asking me if I'm a man or a woman. My profile clearly states what I am (a woman). This is obvious by smooth skin, breasts (2 of them) and facial structure.

No actually am super colossus! I can bake the world in eyeblink! flames lick the south but in the north all is warm - too warm! Clouds try to put out flames but even they cannot. They cannot! Men with small heads and big shoulders are anxious-making! They walk all in rows and every fifth one is a canner! You (and only you) can stop them!

Email me if you're interested.

Story Sent in by Jeremy:

Erika and I had been out on one date already. It had gone well, and I planned a nice afternoon for our second date, starting with lunch.

We ate at a mom and pop diner that she had told me she had always wanted to try. Something was off, though. She wasn't her usual bubbly self. She barely looked me in the eye, and didn't seem at all interested in talking.

I asked her, "What's wrong?"

She said, "Nothing."

I don't like beating around the bush or playing games. I asked, "Seriously, what's bothering you?"

She replied, "You're seeing other people. That's what."

I said, "Come again? You're the only person I'm dating now."

She said, "I know for a fact that you're seeing other people."

"Your facts are mistaken. Where's your proof?"

She said, "I have proof," and took out a folded white envelope from her purse. I reached for it, but she held it back, then held it up. "Proof," she said.

"Let me see."

She shook her head. "I don't have to show you anything. If I say I have proof, I have proof."

I replied, "I don't believe that you have any proof. And besides, even if I was seeing someone else, we just started dating. I don't think that it should be an issue, in any case."

"So you are seeing other people."

"No. Show me your proof."

She sat up straighter. "Admit that you're seeing other people."

"Show me your proof or I'm leaving."

"You wouldn't."

I replied, "I don't date liars, and I'm pretty sure that you are one. Show me the proof right now."

She threw the envelope at me. I tore it open and pulled out… a white piece of paper, covered with Hello Kitty stickers.

After examining it for a few moments, I looked up at Erika.

She said, "Proof!" then stuck her hands in my face, wiggled her fingers, said, "Blagh lagh lagh lagh!" and ran out of the diner.

She turned a few heads, but there was nothing I could say to explain her behavior. The waitress came by with our lunches. I ate mine there and took hers to go.

I arrived home and logged into my dating site account to find that she had written me a note. I opened it up and it said, "HE CHEATS ON ME WITH HELLO KITTY HE CHEATS ON ME WITH HELLO KITTY" and repeated that about 700 times.

I didn't reply, and I certainly didn't ask her out again.

Email Sent in by Joshua:

I'm writing this out of pity so hear me out: all of the musicians you've listed on your profile suck so much ass, that entire herds of donkeys have gone missing. Have you noticed that it's practically all country singers? Are you from Kansas or something?

Only fat old farmer bastards like country music! You seem like a smart guy but this is one of the biggest faux pas I've seen in a long time. If you want any kind of ass you'll change it up.

Something that's always pissed me off about country singers (and the people who like them) is how freaking stupid thay all seem to be. "I'm singing about my backhoe" or "Why can't I find a good country man?" or "Our kids will grow up loving Jesus" or whatever the hell they sing about. Doesn't anyone sing good music anymre? I hat eall the shit on the radio and nothing is good anymore and then you come along and seem great except for the fact that you like country and is makes me so mad I could go punch something. Anything. Maybe you.

Emily


*********************************
(Joshua says: "I live in Rhode Island now, but I clearly state in my profile that I was born and grew up in Oklahoma. After receiving this, I added more country singers to my profile.")

Story Sent in by Nina:

Carl was a well-toned guy I met at my gym. I had just started working out regularly when he approached me and began a conversation. He seemed experienced in toning and weight training, and I found a lot of what he said interesting, although a lot of it didn't directly apply to me.

A few days later, I saw him again, we talked, and he asked me out to dinner.

At dinner, he would not shut up about how strong he was, the competitions in which he had placed, the medals he had won, and how awesome it was to be strong and powerful. "Most weaklings I see at work have no idea that I could probably snap them in half. It's good to know that I can do that, if I have to."

"When would you have to?" I asked him.

"I'd snap my boss in half, first," he said, "She'd crack like old wood, then I'd sprinkle her bone dust like confetti all over the office."

"Great."

After dinner, we took a short walk around the block. He had gone from describing his own physique to critiquing mine. "Your arms are a bit flabby," he'd say, "You should work out more." He also said, "If you tightened up your stomach, people wouldn't think of you as a weakling anymore."

Finally, I grew tired of this insightful banter and I told him that I had to head home. He replied, "Show me your muscles, real quick."

I did, hoping that it would draw the evening to a close. "Ha!" he said, "Those aren't muscles! These are muscles!" He flexed for me. "Go ahead. Feel them."

I said, "Those are some nice muscles."

"Feel them if you want to."

"I don't want to."

"I want you to. Feel them."

"No thanks."

He flexed into a different posture and asked, "What the fuck is your problem? Why don't you want to feel what real muscles feel like?"

I replied, "I have real muscles. I don't need to go feeling yours."

He said, "But mine are larger and firmer than yours. Feel them."

"No thank you."

He flexed into a different position and stepped closer to me. "Feel them or go home."

I didn't reply, but instead turned and strode back to my vehicle. He jogged after me, ran in front, and turned toward me to block my way.

"Just feel them. That's all you have to do," he said, and reached for my hand, presumably to put it on his bicep, tricep, or perhaps another such muscle.

I jerked my arm away and continued on to my car. "You're being an idiot!" he called after me, "Most women would love to touch something like this!"

The next time I saw him at the gym, he came up to me and said, "Hey, sorry that things didn't work out. Did you have a good night? I did. Called up some friends, they brought some girls, and they felt my muscles all night long."

I asked, "All night long? Guess they never found the little one between your legs, huh?"

He replied, "Oh, they found it. Anyway, have a good workout."

We haven't spoken since.

Profile Sent in by James:

Who I'm looking for:

Ah love. That elusive creature! "The thread through the labyrinth, the net under the high-wire walker, the only real thing in this strange life of mine that I could ever trust."

If you get the above reference, you should e-mail me right away. Googling doesn't count! I will know if you googled it and that will make you as a cheater and I don't date cheaters. If you are a cheater then you are a liar and an asshole and I will know it. BELIEVE ME. I will know it! Do not even try. Better men than you have and they have all failed to put one over on me. I can't stress this enough. DO NOT CHEAT. I WILL KNOW.

Story Sent in by Hugh:

Sharon and I had been dating for a couple of months when she invited me to her uncle's house for a weekend alone.  This house, which was on a lake in the middle of the woods, was large and beautiful, and was in an area down a dirt road and far from the nearest town as well as decent cell service.

We drove up there in my car and arrived with some sunlight left. Down at the lake, we jumped into the water and then sat on the dock together.

She leaned over to me and asked if I wanted to have sex right there, on the dock. I did, but I wanted to grab a condom, so I ran back up to the house, where we had placed our bags, and grabbed one.

When I returned, she wasn't there. I looked around, dived into the water, called for her, searched for footprints, dived into the water again, and called for her some more.

I walked into the forest near the dock and I found her bikini strewn across a bush, as if she had thrown it there. I called for her several more times, then waited at the dock for about a half-hour.

At that point, I shouted, "If you can hear me, I'll be back up at the house!"

I went inside, changed into jeans, and searched around the house for her. No sign. I went outside again. It was darkening, and I had a bad feeling. I called and called and checked once more down at the water. I didn't have cell phone service there, but I did have my car. I jumped into it and drove to the nearest town, where I called Sharon's family with the few bars of signal that I had.

I asked them if she was in touch with them, and they said that she wasn't. They advised me to look for her a bit more, that she was probably playing a game, and that I should leave the house doors unlocked that night.

When I returned to the house, there was still no sign of Sharon. I walked back down to the dock, shone a flashlight on the water, searched in the forest, called and yelled for her, returned to the house, and promised myself that I'd call the police if she wasn't back by the morning.

I woke up the next morning, and there was still no sign of her. I went back down to the water, and back to where I had found her swimsuit. It was still there, but there was no sign of Sharon at all.

I drove back to town and called her family. Her mother said that I should wait another few hours before calling the police, but I was very concerned. I returned to the house, searched it and the area around it another time, and called for her down at the dock.

After some minutes of that, I went back up to the house to prepare to head to town to call the police. That's when I noticed that something was different.

Sharon's bag was gone.

I ran out of the house and yelled up and down the property for her. No answer. I jumped into my car, thinking that she had walked off of the property and towards town for some reason. I drove to and from the town, but there was no sign of her, at least not on the routes that I took. I felt relieved, but also creeped out. Why would she come out of hiding long enough to grab her bag, but not reassure me that she was okay?

I called to let her parents know, and they thanked me for looking for her. I went back and forth between the house and town close to a dozen times for the rest of the day, but there was no sign of her. I called her parents each time, to give them an update.

Around sunset, I called them up and they told me that she had arrived back at their home. I asked them what had happened to her and if I could speak with her. They said that she hadn't opened up to them and that she had gone straight to bed.

I returned to the house, packed up my own stuff, and drove home. I called her and left a message on her voicemail. I also called her parents the next day, but they weren't at all forthcoming with further details, and it sounded as if their tone towards me changed from worried and grateful to annoyed and angry. I left them alone, tried Sharon a couple more times, but never heard from her again.

Email Sent in by Allison:

I want a dinner!

But so many women aren't meat!

I want meat betwean my bread if ya know what i mean!

Too much bread! More meat please!

Write back, you human meat!

Hal

Story Sent in by Glenda:

Liam and I were friends in junior high, but he went to a different high school and so we fell out of touch until senior year. He called me out of the blue to catch up and invite me to his prom.

Although I was flattered, I wondered what made him think of inviting me, as opposed to a girl from his school. In any event, it was great to be back in touch with him. His prom was a few months away, and we hung out a few times before the big night. He didn't try anything, and for all intents and purposes, we were reunited friends.

On the night of the prom, he picked me up in his car. I was surprised that there wasn't a limousine involved, but I certainly didn't require one. He looked good, and off we went to the country club where the prom was taking place.

He explained, "I couldn't get any of my friends to agree with me on a limo company. Anyway, this way we can go whenever we want, and we're not waiting on anyone else!" I couldn't argue with that, although I didn't think that I'd be in any hurry to leave.

We made it there and sat down at our table with who I assumed to be Liam's friends. They weren't.

"I was just assigned to this table," Liam informed me, "They just stuck me here. I don't like any of these people."

I asked him, "Can we go and meet your friends? I'd love to meet them."

He said, "Yeah, everybody here sucks."

I said, "You must have some friends."

He shook his head. "No," he said, "I brought beer in my car. Lots of it for you and me."

He then stood up and said to me, "Come on. There are some people I want to introduce you to."

I followed him to a cocktail table and he barged right into the middle of a group of people. He pointed at me and said, "This is my girlfriend! Mine! Ha ha ha ha!"

A member of the group, a girl, saw me shrinking away and said to him, "You're an idiot. Get lost."

He said to her, "I'll show you who's an idiot. I'll show all of you!" He turned and fled away, out of the banquet hall.

A few minutes later, he returned back with a large bulge in his dress shirt. He returned to the group, on which I remained on the outskirts (and thankfully ignored) and opened his shirt to reveal two six packs of beer.

"This is all for you guys," he said to the group, "But keep it secret."

One of the group members went straight to a chaperone and Liam was quickly escorted out. I was left to my own devices, and so I chatted up some nearby people and we became friends. They even gave me a ride home, but not before I had a few fun hours dancing with complete strangers.

As for Liam, he tried contacting me a few times afterward, but I always brushed him off.

Email Sent in by Charles:

So u like star wars? How come jedi never went to the bathroom in any single one of seven films? My guyfriends cant explain it so maybe u can. guys all the time say "holy wow i love the star wars but cant explain why jedi dont shit."

One guy i ased said that they force shit. impossible. not even jedi can defeat conservation of matter in universe. shit must happen and u are a star wars fan and so u all like to explain shit to death. explain that.

I'm Eliza. I like ur profile and i think we have a lot of things in common like favorit movies and traveling around.

Its okay i like star wars just explain to me please.

big hugs,
Eliza

Story Sent in by Shay Lee:

I met Ron at a bar.  He said he was 33, which was eight years older than I. He was also cute and intelligent. He told me that he worked all the time and owned his own house.  I thought that I finally made a great catch: older, steady job, and cute. We set up a date.

The day of our date, he called and told me to meet him at his house because he was running late due to work. I agreed because I had been in similar such positions before.

I arrived at his house, which was large and beautiful.  I assumed that he had a very well-paying job. Ron came outside and asked me into his house.  I followed him into his room because I didn't know how much longer he needed to get ready.  He said that he just needed to finish up on some paperwork.

I heard voices from elsewhere in the house, and I asked him, "Is anyone else here?"

He replied, "My folks."

"Oh, I didn't know they were visiting with you."

"They're not visiting. This is their house."

I asked him, "How old are you?"

"Twenty-seven."

The situation became uncomfortable, of course. But still, perhaps he had fallen on hard times and had to move back home, so I didn't ask any more questions.

I decided to watch television while he finished readying. After a little while, I asked him, "How much longer will it be?"

He said, "Come here, check this out."

I walked over to his computer to see what it was on which he was working. He was playing World of Warcraft. I did not know much about the game, but he explained how to play it.

Disinterested, I told him, "I'm going to go."

Ron shut his laptop off and apologized for making me wait.  He then stood up, unbuttoned his pants and took out his penis. He said, "You want to give it a kiss?  I know he'll like that."

I decided to feign playing his game. I said, "You're really big.  I like it.  Let me go freshen up, okay?  Then we can continue."  He pointed me to the nearest bathroom, and I slipped into it. After a few moments, I peeked out, saw that he wasn't in sight, and I walked out of the house, jumped in my car, and drove home.

He sent me a text message ten minutes later: "Hurry up. Licksy Dicksy's waiting."

As time went on, I received a few more messages: "Where did you go?" "Did you really leave?"  "Seriously???"

Seriously.

Profile Sent in by Gina:

General information:

i love dancing when i was young and i like dairy queens. i love to cook. my favorite ice cream is pecan pearline. i love things wemon do especially in a relationship. they make me laugh. my favorite color is gold. im a sports man. love to get in a reading zone under the fireplace. love to sleep in the rain. im a good example of a perfect man.


Appearance:

my height is 511 so im kinda tall. i weight 160 with brown eyes. i dress casual some times. im mainly in sport gear cause of my playing. im a very laid back person so im conservative. i see myself in the future a father thats what i want in life and his mother makes boys only please.


Looking for:

in a relationship im seeking a woman who just love her man for who he is pure love wisdom kindness goodness. whays important is that shes committed to me. i prefer a fun motherly love type woman who wants to work and come home and live well by my side. im from california and not moving anywhere else so i would travel back and forth if i were married.

Story Sent in by Jonathan:

I was checking out dating profiles online, and one of my suggested matches was Lia. Her profile was great, and her pictures were terrific. Only problem was that she lived two large states away from me. Too far for me, so I left her profile without writing to her.

Two days later, she wrote me a message: "I saw that you checked out my profile. I'm Lia! Nice to meet you."

She wrote a bit more than that, and although she sounded friendly and sane, I replied that I wasn't looking for a long-distance relationship.

She responded, "We can still be friends, can't we?" and then launched into her life story.

I saw no problem with remaining friends, and I told her so. She wrote me at least twice a day for a week straight, and while I wrote her back when I could, writing to her wasn't a very high priority on my list of daily, much less weekly, activities.

She pointed that out to me after a few days: "Hey Jonathan, I've noticed that you don't write me as much as I write you. Why?"

I wrote back that I was busy (which was true, not a blow-off), and could only respond so often. She replied, "Okay, then it's time for plan B."

I had no idea what plan B meant until in the middle of my workday, my phone rang with a number I didn't recognize. I picked it up and was surprised to hear, "Hey Jonathan! It's Lia!"

"How did you get this number?"

She said, "I have my ways. You could at least be excited to hear from me. We're friends, right?"

Less and less so. I told her, "I appreciate the phone call, but now's a bad time. I'm at work and–"

"So when's a good time? Tonight? I'll call you tonight."

All six times she called me that night, I didn't pick up. She left me strange voicemails, all about what good friends we were and how she couldn't wait to talk to me and meet me. I decided at that point to stop talking to her completely, and while I read some of them, I ignored her future messages and didn't answer her future calls.

Instead of driving her away, this frustrated her to the point of writing me a message in which she wrote, "11 Windemere St., Columbia, MO 65201. That's where you live, and that's where I'll be this weekend. I'm driving out there to sort this out, once and for all. See you soon, friend!"

I would have been a little freaked out, but 11 Windemere, however she came by the address, was a place that I hadn't lived in three years. What a fun surprise that would be for her. The messages she sent me over the following two days were full of, "Here's what we'll do when I see you…" and "Can't wait to see you!"

The weekend arrived, and no joke, I must have received close to a hundred calls from her. Each voicemail was funnier than the last:

"Hey, I'm on my way! See you soon, good buddy!"

"I'm stuck in traffic, but I'll be there soon!"

"I just crossed into Missouri! Can't wait to see you, friend!"

"We're such good friends! I can't get over what good friends we are, and what fun, friendly stuff we'll be doing together, friend! Yay for friends! Yay for you! Yay for me! Yay for us, being friends!"

"I'm in Columbia! The city where good friends meet! I'm passing by the university right now! Maybe we can take a walk there later! There is so much fun stuff to do when you're with a friend!"

"I'm turning onto your street! I'll be seeing you in just a few seconds! I can't believe that we're such good friends that I would do this, but that's what I do for my friends! And you are such a good one!"

"Okay, so apparently, you don't live at 11 Windemere Street anymore, but I'll find you. I swear it. If I have to die, I will find where you live. If I have to quit work and spend all of next week and knock on every door in this fucking city, I will find you."

"I'm staying in a motel tonight. Sure would be nice to spend the night with my friend, but my friend's gone AWOL. Maybe it's time for me to change tactics. See you soon."

"Today's a brand new day in search of my friend. Can't wait to find him and set him the fuck straight about what friendship means."

Her messages abruptly stopped, and aside from a final email from her that said, "went home. byebye," I never heard from her again. 

Story Sent in by Brenda:

Trevor and I spoke online for a few weeks before meeting up in person. He offered to take me out to a bar that had just opened in the middle of downtown. We made it there early enough on a Friday evening so that the crowd wasn't too big. We found seats at the bar. However, after a couple of hours, the place was thronged with people.

Trevor said, "Good thing we got here early enough to get seats."

I nodded. He gave me an expectant look and I asked him, "What's up?"

He said, "You don't think it's a good thing that we got here early enough to get seats?"

I replied, "No, I think it was a great idea."

He said, "Then that's your cue to say, 'Great idea, Trevor. You were smart to bring us here early.'"

I rolled my eyes and said, "Great idea, Trevor. Thanks for bringing us here early."

He pulled out his smartphone and tapped away on it, which I thought was poor form. When he finished typing, he put it down and said, "I just made my Facebook status: 'A girl at a bar just called me smart. It's shaping up to be a great evening.'"

I said, "That's great."

He asked, "What else do you think of me? I can update my status right from here."

I said, "I think it's a little weird that you're updating your status while we're out on a date."

"Ooh!" he said, "That's good." He tapped away on his device and after a minute, looked up at me with a big smile and said, "Now I wrote, 'She called me weird. Uh-oh. Maybe she means in a good way?'"

I didn't answer. He asked, "Do you mean it in a good way?"

I replied, "You work at in a college lab, right?"

He replied, "Yes. I'll assume you mean that I'm weird in a good way. Are you wearing a bra?"

"What? Yes."

Out came the phone again. He tapped something in and gave me a wink when he was done. "Now I wrote that we're talking about your bra. This is gold!"

"Okay, you know what?" I asked him, and then I stood up.

He guessed, "Are you leaving?"

I said, "Yes. I don't think this is going to work."

He slapped his hand on the bar and said, "I don't believe this. You're just like the rest of them!"

Before I could reply, another young woman, who was among the many people jockeying for a seat at the bar, slid between Trevor and myself and took my previously occupied seat.

He asked her, "Are you wearing a bra?"

That's all I had to hear before leaving poor Trevor alone to update his status with however many numerous adventures he was sure to encounter that evening.

Profile Sent in by Roland:

About me:

I am 22. I like getting out, even if its just for a walk or car ride. I'm a mom of 2 little girls: a 3 year old and a baby girl.  I want a guy who likes to go out and be around people. he has to be smarter then my 3 year old :) .

I like cooking and baking. I want a guy who is honest and will tell me if he doesn't like a meal I prepare so I know what he likes.

I think I am a creative person and would like someone who is up to new challenges.... like solving this riddle hint write all the numbers in order then text me: if there are 7 goldfish in a jar. and you have 5 dogs. Then take 7 more away. With me so far? Write down all the numbers and keep going. 5 girls skipped school 5 went to the mall and 5 went to the park. 79 zebras were at the zoo and 24 were female. I cooked for 818 boys. 13 didn't like it and 5 didn't tell me and left early. Hint write out all numbers. Hint once you written down all the numbers you can text me if you reshuffle them into my number.

Story Sent in by Steve:

Natalie was one of those rare women who actually contacted me first on a dating site. Her words were warm and witty, and after checking out her profile, I had a good feeling about writing her back. She seemed very grateful for my response, and it was in short order that we ended up out on a date.

We lived by a restaurant with a back deck that stretched right out, over a river. I hadn't been there in a while (it was a bit pricey) but it was a nice place and as I said, I had a good feeling about Natalie.

We arrived together at the restaurant, we were seated out on the back deck, and then the problems began.

"How much of the native habitat do you think they ruined by building this deck here?" she asked.

I replied, "I don't really know. The restaurant's been around a while, so I'm sure that the local wildlife have recovered."

"Wildlife never recovers," she corrected me, "Ask any extinct animal. Wait, they're dead, so you can't!"

I said, "I don't think any animals were made extinct by the building of this deck."

She said, "But I'm sure it didn't help them out any. Birds, insects, our fish cousins, so many unborn thanks to this place." She tapped the wooden floor with her foot.

"Our fish cousins?"

She said, "Run your tongue along the roof of your mouth. Those bumps used to be gills. Evolution, remember? We're more closely related to fish than to any other animals."

"Even apes?"

"Except for apes. What were apes before they were apes, though?"

"I don't know. Pre-apes?"

She said, "Fish. I understand you didn't know how passionate I was about this before I came out here with you, but if we go out again, you will remember, won't you?"

"Sure."

She ordered an encrusted salmon for dinner. I ordered pasta. We went on to other topics, but every few minutes or so, without fail, she'd glance at the river and say, "Those poor fish. Gone forever."

"How's your salmon?" I finally asked her.

"Delicious! And your pasta?"

"Tasty. Thanks."

As I walked her back to her car afterward, I asked her, "Were you really serious about that fish stuff before?"

"Never more serious about anything in my entire life."

"Then why did you order salmon for dinner?"

That stopped her cold. She stood and thought for a minute before she replied, "It was already dead, so there was nothing wrong with eating it."

I said, "But now the restaurant will have to order more salmon stock, since they're one down because of you. Another salmon will die."

She said, "And I bet you'll never let me forget it! It was just a fucking fish! Why does every guy have a problem with me?"

"I don't understand," I said.

"Forget it. Goodnight." She gave me a quick hug, stepped into her car, and I never saw her again.

Profile Sent in by Vince:

What I'm looking for:

I can handle anything life throws at me except for bluggers. If you blug, don't even bother messaging me. My brother took up blugging and it pissed off my mother so much that he was banned from the dinner table.  He kept doing it and I moved right out of the house!  He got a girl pregnant but that wasn't nearly as annoying as his blugging.  He didn't stop and I haven't spoken to him in five months.  Seriously, if you blug, that does it, not ifs ands or buts.

If you remind me of my brother, mention him in conversation, or kiss like him (I've never kissed him but I've heard his exes describe how he kisses, like a cross between shamu and a freight train) then we're again, through. He wore my clothes for a year: I know what that means.

Profile Sent in by Marty:

You should message me if

I've been around the block.  If you're:

1. codependent and whiny
2. controlling
3. obsessive and totally insane
4. jealous loser
5. stupid
6. really stupid
7. lazy shit who lives with his parents
8. codependent whiny and stupid
9. bastard thief
10. asshole who cheats
11. another cheating asshole
12. cheating jealous bastard
13. ditching liar
14. human garbage
15. paranoid delusional thief asshole
16. jealous, jobless moron
17. bipolar monster
18. lying sex maniac

then we won't work out. Each of these (if you haven't guessed) describes my former boyfriends (pretty much in order). Trust me: you don't want to be added to this list!

Story Sent in by Randall:

Audrey's dating site profile was attractive to me, as it was well-written, intelligent-sounding, and used no Internet acronyms. Her replies to my messages were written equally well, and I asked her out to a Saturday lunch.

We met at a nice cafe, and I hoped that we could take a walk or find something else to do afterward. However, shortly after we sat down, things went downhill.  After some small talk, she asked me, "What did you think of Outliers?"

I asked, "Outliers? That a new show on the SciFi Channel?"

She said, "You're joking, right? Seriously, what did you think?"

I replied, "What's Outliers?"

She gave a rueful laugh and said, "It's Malcolm Gladwell's latest opus. It's been on the New York Times bestseller list for months. Don't tell me you haven't read it."

"I haven't read it."

"Okay," she said, then stood up and left.

My first thoughts were, I must have somehow shocked her, but I'm certain that she's just taking a walk around the block. No way she just up and left over this.

Oh, but she did. She did not return. I tried her phone and left a message, but she never contacted me again. I have no idea what she was on about, or why, if me reading that book was so important to her, she waited until we met in person to even mention it. It must be truly amazing to have that much of a strange impact on someone. As for me, I haven't yet read it, nor do I have plans to.

Email Sent in by Annalise:

Good day.

It took me a while but I finally set up a profile! Now the trick is to get people to read it! If you read it then you get a prize and the prize is a date with me. Hurry because this won't last long.

I have decided that I will live forever. I have forever but you do not. Fill your life with the spice of life now. You don't really have to go on a date with me but let's at least be friends. My friends are also receiving rich reward the reward being something I can't tell you about until you date me. Here are friend testimonials:

"We are your friends! We love this reward!"
"Such a nice reward and such a nice guy. So glad we are friends."
"What a great guy to be giving us such rewards!"
"We love you and the reward you have given us!"
"We did not expect such rich reward but now that I have been given it we are friends forever but only forever for you because you will live forever and I will not."

Friends let us be then. Write me back (don't forget to look at my profile!) and you will receive the same rich reward!

Hope, love, and peace,
Justin

Story Sent in by Keisha:

Norm introduced himself to me online.  We had a lot in common: we liked the same music, films, and we were both into soccer.  When he asked me out to dinner, I accepted eagerly.

At dinner, he told me, "I have a surprise for you.  I'll show you after dinner."  Intrigued, I waited through dinner, during which we had a good talk.

Afterward, he led me to his car and pulled out a soccer ball.  He said, "There's a school field really close by.  Want to play a game?  One on one?"

I laughed at the idea, but I liked it.  I had a pair of sneakers in my car,  so I changed into them and followed him to the soccer field.

For several minutes, we kicked the ball up and down the field, and we both showed off what bad shots we were, even with no goalies to block us.  Finally, despite Norm's concerted efforts to stop me, I kicked a shot and scored.

I thrust my hands into the air and cheered, "She scores! The crowd goes wild!" Norm ran and recovered the ball, then jogged back over to me with it.  I was fully expecting to continue on with the game.

Instead, at close range, Norm threw the ball at my face. It hit my cheek and although it didn't really hurt, it was a shock.

"Ow!" I cried, "What was that for?"

He calmly picked up the ball and said, "You weren't supposed to score before me. I'm just setting the world right again."  He smiled.

"So you assault me?" I asked.

He shrugged and said, "I'd do it again. You'd have to learn sometime. Guys don't like it when girls beat them at stuff. Sorry. That's just how it is." He dropped the ball on the ground and asked, "Ready to play? I'd like to try and score."

"You go ahead," I told him, and I turned to hurry back to my car.

He picked up the ball again and said, "If you leave, I'll throw this at you again."

I replied, "You do that and I'm keeping it."

"I'll take it back from you."

I pulled out my key ring.  "You'll be feeling my key in your face, first."

He laughed. "You wouldn't."

I said, "Try me."

He didn't, and I rushed back to my car and drove home.

Email Sent in by Antonio:

I like the photos you posted of yourself but the one of you dressed like a pirate in front of a coffin is in poor taste.  I'm not sure who's in that coffin but you playing stupid games at a funeral is not likely what they would have wanted.  I don't know how you can live with yourself.

If you die then I'll dress up like a cheerleader and get all of my friends to dress up like fairy princesses.  Would you like that?  We'd sing disney songs and dance on your coffin and go on waterslides and library picnics and playgrounds and you would be dead.  That would be just as respectful, you disrespectful bastard.  You should show more respect for the departed.  Maybe then you'll find someone who loves you.

Deanna


******************************************
(Antonio says: "The photo she's referring to is a picture of me at a fair, standing in front of a giant treasure chest.  It looks nothing like a coffin.")

Story Sent in by Tim:

Lindsey and I were friends in college.  We went out for lunch, teased each other about our respective majors, and had movie nights in each other's dorm rooms.  I was also very attracted to her, but I was too shy to let on about that.  At least, for our first year and a half of hanging out.

One movie night, though, during early junior year, we were next to each other on her couch at her apartment.  I shifted position so that I gently brushed up against her.  She didn't move away.  Good sign.  I slowly, slowly, slowly slid my arm around her and scratched her shoulder lightly.

She turned to me.  Now or never.  I kissed her.  It was awesome.

She smiled and leaned against me for the rest of the movie.  Game, set, match, right?

Not exactly.  After the movie was over, she stood up and said, "You have to go, now."

That was unusual, as we usually talked about the movie over ice cream afterward.  However, I also didn't usually kiss her.  I stood up and asked, "Is everything okay?"

She nodded and said, "Yes, you just have to go.  I'll call you."

I left, thinking that I had likely confused her or otherwise messed things up.  Still, it was hard to feel a regret for achieving something I had wanted for so long, even though that thing was so short-lived.

I didn't hear from her the next day or the next, which was also unusual.  I told myself that I'd give her a week, then I'd shoot her an email.  The week went by, and off the email went.

She wrote back almost at once: "Hey Tim!  Where have you been?  I was worried when I didn't hear from you!"

At our last encounter, she did say that she'd call me, and I mentioned that in my reply: "You said you'd call.  Is everything okay?  I'm sorry if I messed things up."

She wrote back, "Why don't you come over tonight?"  Nervous and excited, I took her up on the offer.

She had ordered in Chinese food.  We sat next to each other on her couch and she caught me up on everything she had been up to over the past week.  I did the same, and for a couple of hours, we shot the breeze.

Finally, at the most opportune moment I could find, I said, "Hey, about last week, I'm sorry if I did anything to make you uncomfortable."

"What happened last week?" she asked.

"I kissed you while we were watching The Godfather."

She stood up and said, in a near-replica of last week, "You have to go, now."

I remained seated and said, "Lindsey, can we talk about this?  I'm sorry if I somehow hurt you.  Would you prefer that I don't bring it up again?"  Keep in mind that she was my friend for a while, and that I wasn't about to lose her without at least trying to hold things together.

She said, "It's late.  You really have to go.  I'll call you."

I asked, "If I don't mention it again, can I stay?  I'll forget it happened."

She said, "You have ten seconds to leave.  Ten…"

She made it to "three" before I stood up to go.  I left and she slammed the door behind me.

Thinking that I had irrevocably damaged our friendship, I wrote her an email to apologize and to let her know that she could contact me whenever she wanted to.

She wrote back immediately: "Hey Tim!  Great to see you tonight!  When are we hanging out again?"

At that point, I was the one who needed time.  I figured that it was best to never mention the kiss or try anything with her again.  After a few days, we organized a dinner meet-up at a nearby cafe.

At dinner, we caught up, talked, and everything was as it was, before I had ever tried anything with her.

Then, after a conversation pause she said, "You kissed me."

Unsure of where she was going with it, I said, "Yes."

She replied, "Just making sure," then stood up and said, "I'll call you.  I have to go," and she left, just like that.

After that, I didn't email her, she never called, and I haven't heard from her from that day to this.