3/26/2014

The Creepy Kid

Story Sent in by Ruth:

Todd told me in one of his introductory messages that, "in elementary school I was the creepy kid." I laughed it off. I shouldn't have.

On our date, we went out to dinner and when the host asked us which we preferred, Todd insisted on a table. I would've preferred a booth. Not long after we sat down and ordered drinks, we were in the middle of conversation when he stood up from his seat, walked behind me, continued with the conversation, and just massaged my shoulders.

I removed his hands from me and asked, "What are you doing?"

He put his hands back on my shoulders and said, "Giving you a massage. You seem really stressed."

I removed his hands from me again and said, "I don't remember giving you permission to touch me."

He laughed and returned to his seat. "I didn't realize I needed permission to be nice to someone."

"Massaging me? That's not being nice: that's creepy."

He said, "It's nice, actually. But whatever."

It was too creepy to really continue on the date. I thanked him hurriedly, said good night, and left. He was such a nice guy that he sent me a lot of nice texts afterward, cursing me and all women out. So nice!

3 comments:

  1. He's such a nice I'd knee him in the crotch. I admit it's an overreaction and I'm okay with that. No touchee.

    ReplyDelete
  2. @ Archie - budding entrepreneur or poli sci major?

    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.