2/05/2013

Printer? I Barely Know 'Er!

Story Sent in by Marcus:

Kim and I met in college. We went on a couple of dates and had a great time, and soon it was time for date number three. She requested that I pick her up at her off-campus apartment so that we could travel together to dinner at a Dave and Buster's (an indoor arcade where you can drink) and then dessert at this really great place that I had been to, before.

When I arrived at Kim's, she called from within that she wanted me to let myself in. I did, and her place was a mess, as if a cyclone had smashed its way through her living room, kitchen, and hallway. Pillows, clothes, CDs, shelves, and spatulas were strewn everywhere.

Kim herself was mad, kicking her way through the piles, looking this way, that way, everywhere at once. I asked her, "What's wrong?"

She said to me, "I've lost my printer. Did you bring one?"

I usually didn't bring printers with me on dates, unless they were specifically requested beforehand. This time, I did not bring a printer so I told her, "No."

She shrieked and told me to go out and find a printer for her, because hers wasn't working and she had to print something out. I asked her why she didn't use a computer lab at the university, and she said that she didn't have time for that. She gave me $150 and told me to go out and buy a cheap printer for her.

The cheapest one I found, at a nearby Office Max, was a bit over $100. I bought it and returned to her place with it.

Her apartment was such a mess that I could barely push my way through the front door and inside. The piles of stuff were so colossal that I wondered where she had been keeping all of it when it was arranged in its proper place.

I gave her the printer and the change. It was growing late and I asked her if she still wanted to do dinner. She looked the printer over and asked me if it did color. A color laser printer, I knew, was way more expensive than a black and white one, and the one I had bought her was black and white, only. She shoved it back at me and insisted that I return it and buy her a color laser printer. She swore she'd pay me back, but she had to have the color printer that instant. I asked her if an inkjet printer would work, and she said that she wanted a laser.

The color laser printers were well over $350 each, so I returned the printer I had just purchased for her and called her with the intent of telling her that I wasn't going to lay out that much for a printer. The call went to voicemail, so I went back to her place to let her know, in person.

The place was still a mess when I returned, empty-handed. She talked over me and asked me over and over, "Where's the printer? Did you bring the printer? Where is it? I don't see it. I told you to buy a printer. Where is it? Is it in your car? Go get it. Go get the printer. I need the printer."

I finally said, "I'm just going to let you be." She collapsed amidst all of her stuff and laughed like unseen hands were tickling her. I didn't take her out on anymore dates after that incident.

19 comments:

  1. I have a theory - Kim decided to play crazy because she knew the OP was probably expecting sex - if not by the third date then at least the fourth or fifth. It's easier to play crazy then say, "Yeah, sex ain't gonna happen....ever." Or, you know, she's just a damn nutter.

    And again, where are all these dudes that do pain in the ass favors for clearly off balance women they're only dated a handful of times? The last time there was a dude who cleaned up a woman's kitchen and tucked her in and now we have this guy taking orders from some lunatic who had a printing emergency.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I think a hoarder on meth is a much more plausible story here.

      Delete
    2. I think Kim has daddy issues, and dated Marcus - who is a different race - just to piss off her racist father. After that was accomplished, she had no real need to date him anymore, and certainly didn't want to sleep with him, since she is a closet racist herself. Since she can't really say "I don't want to date you anymore because of your race," she concocted this whole printer dabacle to get rid of him.

      True story.

      Delete
    3. "It's easier to play crazy". Is it? I know I'm the minority, but saying "hey, I don't think this is working out" strikes me as an easier out than trashing my stuff, embarrassing myself, wetting myself in restaurants, rolling around on the floor in hysterics, doing inappropriate things with a hairdryer...and so on and so forth.
      I'm always impressed with the level that people are willing to go to avoid those simple few words. Good show, but still. I don't have the courage to do it.

      Delete
    4. It's not really easier to play crazy but depending on the person, sometimes you just have to. I've done things of out of my normal character to make sure I get rid of someone because they're a Stage 5 clinger or something. I've never done anything as crazy as what I've read here though.

      I think in most cases, the nutty people in the stories here are just batshit crazy.

      Delete
  2. My favorite line "....CDs, shelves, and SPATULAS were strewn everywhere."

    Damn, how many spatulas does a girl need. I think that was her hoarding trigger. Her mom used to beat her with spatulas then passed away in a horrible spatula related incident. Now she can't walk by them in Target without buying one or two to fill the empty place in her heart.

    Or the bitch just liked spatulas.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Mayhaps she lived near Spatula City? I saw a commercial for them on a UHF station, once upon a time...

      Delete
    2. That movie was my whole childhood. Explains a lot, actually.

      Delete
  3. Was this in Philly? I have a feeling it was, because we have a huge Dave and Busters... and a lot of crazy college girls.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Wow, that sure is commitment to buyer's remorse. Next time lady, just tell him he is ugly and his dick is too small.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Hey, how was she supposed to print out a selection of photos of frightened five-year-olds grudgingly simulating sex acts under the watchful eye of Mr. Off-Camera Baseball Bat? Can't print that out at the university computer lab, and any guy what's taking her to a Dave and Busters' is just there to ogle kindergarteners with fistfuls of tickets to trade for oddly-shaped plastics they can't even begin to imagine the nefarious purposes of. She just wanted to let him know she was game. Taking your date to anywhere overrun by screaming elementary kids? We know why.

    Srsly, tho, dudebro returns the printer, then actually *goes back* to crazy bitch.....hmmmm......

    ReplyDelete
  6. Wait, after he returned the printer the to get a new one, why didn't he gave her back her money? I think he should have called the hoarder helpline that can help her. or that mental hospital she really needs that.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Nah, $100 is crazy-tax. Plus, it would just clutter up her place more, anyway.

      Delete
    2. Are we sure he kept the money? I don't see why he'd go back the third time if he wasn't going to give it back.

      Delete
  7. It appears that while you were out printer shopping, you should have picked yourself up a pair of testicles as well. You dildo factory reject.

    And I wish this story would have ended with you fucking her on top of her trash and spatulas.

    ReplyDelete
  8. The Architect called this, she sounds like she was on drugs to me...

    ReplyDelete

Content Policy

A Bad Case of the Dates reserves the right to publish or not publish any submitted content at any time, and by submitting content to A Bad Case of the Dates, you retain original copyright, but are granting us the right to post, edit, and/or republish your content forever and in any media throughout the universe. If Zeta Reticulans come down from their home planet to harvest bad dating stories, you could become an intergalactic megastar. Go you!

A Bad Case of the Dates is not responsible for user comments. We also reserve the right to delete any comments at any time and for any reason. We're hoping to not have to, though.

Aching to reach us? abadcaseofthedates at gmail dot com.