A Hand in the Pants is Worth Two in the... Nevermind

Submitted by Ann:

I met this guy, Greg, at a fundraiser for the local fire department.  My dad is a fireman and knew the guy, so it seemed relatively harmless.

We spent the following six months trying to coordinate (which was hard to do since we lived 30 minutes apart and he refused to come to any of the places that I hang out).

Finally, I decided to make the trip to his town to go to a cruddy local bar and have a drink with him.  Already, I was annoyed, but I felt committed, so I made the drive.

When I got to the bar, in a rough part of town, I texted him and asked if he would come out and walk me in.  The response I received was "WE R ON THE DECK."  Realizing that I wasn't getting any sort of gentlemanly treatment, I trekked to the bar and paid the cover, fought though the crowds to the back deck and looked around and around.  Nowhere to be found... and that's because he was up at the bar doing shots with at least ten other guys.

He had one in his hand for me, which I politely refused (citing the 30 minute drive) and we sat: me, him, and the ten frat-boy-idiot guys with whom he was at the bar.  He spoke only to them, not even introducing me to the table.

The night wore on, I sipped on a single beer while he got completely slobbering drunk and finally it was time to go.  He asked if I would follow him home and I rolled my eyes, but said I would because it was close.

I pulled into the parking lot after him, and then started to turn my car around with a polite wave goodbye.  Goodbye, idiot, and good riddance!

But wouldn't you know, the night wasn't over yet, as he half-trotted, half-stumbled over to my passenger door, opened it and plopped down before I could even protest.

"Come upstairs with me?" he said, trying hard to be charming.

"Um, it's late.  I'm going to head home."

"You're too drunk to drive!" he insisted, hoping that I would take the bait.

"No, Greg, I'm leaving."

He blubbered about how his father had just died, and he was so lonely, and wouldn't I just come up for a moment?  I couldn't believe he was pulling this with me.  I told him how sorry I was for his loss, and at that moment, in a feat of acrobatics I have never since seen repeated, he put his HAND down my PANTS. 

I full-volume screamed, "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG IN YOUR HEAD?" and he jumped out of the car, practically sprinting to his apartment while I sped out of the parking lot, shaking, pissed, and confused.  It was that the worst date with the most sinister, manipulative douchebag ever to walk to planet...

I didn't hear from him for six months, until my parents were having a party and he texted to see if I was going to be there.

My dad personally told him that it probably wasn't in his best interests to show up.


  1. I'm sorry, but it's your fault for driving to him. If he is a gentleman and if he's interested, He would have come to you.

  2. I would definitely not say it's the OP's fault...that's molestation. How was she supposed to know that her father's acquaintance was really an asshole who would molest her? What a terrible thing to have to go through.

  3. Certainly not her fault for what happened. But the way I see it, if the guy isn't even willing to at least meet up somewhere half-way, he isn't worth dating.

    I prefer to at least meet up somewhere closer to her direction than my own so that it's less of a burden on her. Just seems like more of the chivalrous thing to do.

  4. I hope you learned from this "date".
    No good first date comes in a bar with lots of friends, unless the friends are mutual.
    Following him home?

  5. Wow, the comments on this blog are often almost as ridiculous as the stuff these people try to pull on first dates -- there must be loads of insecure, delusional men and women desperately fumbling out there. It makes me feel a whole hell of a lot better, as if I'm quite sane and wonderful.

  6. So many bad-date stories like this one: he was getting drunk before my eyes, but I still stayed around. Ladies, guys who get drunk suck. Heed the early-warning signs. Ignore the warning signs and lose your right to complain.

  7. You're a douche Churro

  8. Good story, but like so many others I am revolted by some of the comments.

  9. Well, if she lets him get to 3rd base, who can blame the poor guy?

  10. What kind of princess expects to be walked in to a bar?


Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.

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.