The Community Theater Diva

Submitted by Eric:

Ella invited me to hear her sing at a community theater talent show last summer.  We went inside and took our seats, as they were planning to call performers up one at a time to perform.

I looked through the program and didn't see Ella's name.  I asked her when she was going on and she said that she didn't know, but that she had talked things over the the woman who was running it, so it would all be fine.

Well, we waited two hours and sat through a whole bunch of acts, including one guy who claimed that his dog could do some amazing stuff but just ended up pissing itself onstage, and a woman who tried to do a handstand but ended up cracking something that shouldn't have cracked.

Then the show ended.  Ella was mad.  She went backstage to yell at the woman who ran the show, but the woman was gone.  Ella said that she was so angry that she would wait until the woman came back, but the ushers told Ella that the woman wouldn't be back until the next performance season.  Ella stomped out of the theater and drove away without a word to me.  I brought my own car there, so I was able to get home, but still.  I felt bad for her, but she could've handled it better.

The White Stuff

Submitted by Jayla:

When I was younger, I was into a crrrazy scene.  My friend told me that she had the perfect guy for me.  The way she built him up, he sounded way too good to be true, so I figured that I had nothing to lose by getting set up.

I smelled him coming from three blocks away.  No joke... he showed up with the left side of his hair all white and done up in spikes.  The smell was awful...

"Ugh," I coughed, trying my best to maintain composure, "What did you put in your hair?"

He looked up as if noticing it for the first time.  "Oh this?  White out."

I told him that I couldn't take the smell.  He said, "It's not bothering me."

The date didn't go forward, and it was around that time that I began to reevaluate my life.  If my friends thought that guys like this were "perfect" for me, then I probably needed a change of scene.  Fast.

The Height of Dissatisfaction

Courtney and I met up in Manhattan after a couple of weeks talking online.  We seemed to have a good rapport, and we traded pictures, funny stories, and general fanfare.  She seemed nice, seemed to think I was nice, and we both seemed to think that the other was worth meeting.

We met at Penn Station and the instant she saw me, her shoulders dropped and she frowned.  Something was certainly amiss.

"What's wrong?" I asked her.

"Nothing," she said, "Nice to meet you.  I guess."

"You guess?"

She shook her head.  "Yeah.  Fine.  Where do you want to go?"

Perturbed by this strange behavior, I asked, "What's wrong?  You seem... disappointed."

"It's nothing."

"Nothing?"

She sighed.  "Yes!  Now where are we going?"

Okay.  I took her to an Indian place that's all sorts of awesome (check it out!) and she seemed pretty close to miserable the entire time.  She barely said a word and try as I might, I couldn't pry anything more than an "Okay," out of her in response to a "How are you?" a "Good," in response to a "How's the food?" or a stare in response to anything else.  What the hell was up with this chick?  Did I have a side of beef stuck to my face?

Afterward, we took a walk through Greenwich Village.  "Do you like ice cream?" I asked.

"Ugh.  No."

"Oh."  A date with my mom would've gone better.

Finally, we made it back to Penn, and I said, "Have a good night."

"I will."

Hmmm.


LATER...

Me: Hi!  It was good to see you tonight.  I hope that all is well.
CourtneyWTF: k.
Me: Feel like telling me what was wrong?
CourtneyWTF: YOU SAID IN UR PROFILE THAT U WERE 5' 8" AND U WERE CLEARLY NOT.  U LIED.
Me: Oh.  I think I'm 5' 8".  Hang on.  Let me check.
Me: Okay.  I'm back.
Me: I'm 5' 8" and a half.
CourtneyWTF has signed off >>>

Ice Guys Finish Last

Submitted by Daisy:

Drew and I met online.  We decided to go to a café in a quaint little downtown area.  It was the dead of winter, just after an ice storm.  We were walking down a sidewalk, on our way, when he slipped and fell on a patch of ice!

My first reaction was, "Are you all right?" and I bent to help him up.  He was none the worse for wear, but he shot me a dirty look, as if I was responsible for him falling.  "Are you all right?" I asked him again, and again he didn't answer.

I smiled, trying to diffuse what was becoming a tense situation, and he said, "Don't you laugh at me!"  He forged onward, and I followed, confused and a little weirded out.

Just outside the café, we were about to enter when I slipped and nearly fell, but Drew pointed and yelled, "HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

I said, "Uh..."

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"I–"

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Drew, what–"

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

I didn't say anything else.  He cleared his throat and said, "Doesn't feel so good, does it?"

"Uh..."

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

I said nothing else.  He opened the door to the café and went inside.  I turned and booked it back to my car.  Luckily, I didn't slip or fall.  I didn't need to have breakfast with an asshole that day.  Or any day, for that matter.

Priced Out of the Market

Submitted by Samuel:

I went to a party and stayed late, eventually helping the hostess clean up. She was wearing a really hot party dress and it seemed like she was making eyes at me all night. As she walked me out, we kissed, and I promised her that I'd be in touch.

And so I was. We talked on the phone, made plans, and met up. At dinner, we talked for a while about this and that, and we got onto the topic of her best guy friend. She talked my ear off about him.

Then I asked her when she'd be seeing him next and she said that she wasn't speaking with him and probably never would again. I asked her why not, and she said it was because he only got her a book for her last birthday.

I asked her what was wrong with a book, and she said that she expected more from a friend. "Just a book? Come on. How cheap can you be?"

I asked her what would have been a more suitable gift. She said, "I don't know. A gift card to a name designer's store. A book is so impersonal. They're mass produced."

I asked her what she had bought him for his birthday. She said that she had bought him a pack of sausages, "But that's different," she explained, "That's an inside joke between the two of us."

Was that all she had bought him for his birthday? Yep.

I said, "Maybe you're being too harsh on him. Never speaking to him again?"

She said, "Being cheap is a character flaw, and I deserve better! Like if you didn't pay for this dinner, you'd never hear from me again, no matter how much you cried or begged."

Wow. "Is that a promise?" I asked.

She nodded.

Well friends, I think you can guess the rest of this story. I ended up not paying for her portion, and all she said was, "Okay," accompanied by an eye roll.

What Happens When You Dumpster Dive

Submitted by Nikki:

I had spent a few weeks flirting with Will, another commuter student, when we finally decided to go out on a date. He had that “bad boy” look going on, and I was young and simple. He told me that he’d pick me up at 7:00 and to “Wear something nice,” with a little wink and grin.

I was wearing a plaid miniskirt, a cute (more tasteful) top, and platform sandals when he stopped by. He smiled and gave his approval, and off we went… to his parents’ house for dinner.

It was a tasty dinner, and his parents were polite, but it was obvious that he had issues with them, as he spent most of the meal making snide comments and rolling his eyes at their expense.

After dinner, he said he was taking me out “somewhere fun… and a little dangerous.” Finally! I got to cash in on that bad boy attitude of his! So we drove through backstreets to… the back of a Goodwill store. To go dumpster diving.

“They get really pissed at you if they catch you going through their trash,” he said. “But you can always find some really great stuff here, as long as you’re willing to dig a little for it. And don’t worry, they don’t put rotting food or anything in here, so it’s pretty clean for a dumpster.”

I figured “What the hell. I’m already here,” so he gave me some gym shorts he had lying in his backseat, which I put on for modesty’s sake, and… we went dumpster diving. I got a couple of cute bowls, and at one point, he held onto my ankles while I reached in farther to grab a set of golf clubs he wanted.

“Do you wanna get coffee somewhere?” he asked.

“I don’t really drink coffee, but I wouldn’t mind hanging out a little longer," I replied.

“Great. I know where we can get some good coffee, and they might have hot chocolate or something for you.”

So we drove to… a church. For his Narcotics Anonymous meeting. Because he was a recovering heroin addict (one month sober).

It was pretty awkward, as I was still straight-edge at the time and therefore, had no real reason to be at an NA meeting, so I just introduced myself as Will’s friend.

After the meeting, he drove me home, and we kissed.

We went out a few more times, on some slightly better dates (I always wore jeans after that), but I wasn’t really emotionally mature enough to date a recovering addict, so I broke it off with him and asked if we could be “just friends.”

To say he didn’t take it well is an understatement. He made posters about me and what a bitch I was (yes, we were in college) and posted them around the commuter lounge and nearby student café.

He later started dating another recovering addict, and they both fell off the wagon; he blamed it on me dumping him.

Now You'll Never Forget Her Name

Submitted by Matt:

In my junior year of university, I met Samantha in my linguistics class.  It took several weeks of building up courage to introduce myself to her, but when I finally asked her out, she not only eagerly accepted, but she confessed that she'd noticed me all semester long and had wanted to introduce herself! Ah, I felt romantic stirrings in this, and it was bittersweet to imagine this as a common scenario, and how frequent it was that two strangers smiling at each other from afar never even made it to the introduction.

We met the following day at a favorite coffeehouse of mine on campus on the busiest stretch of road.  I don't know if it's my high cheekbones or what, but I have this uncontrollable superpower to get anyone to open up to me 100%, often on a first outing. In getting to know each other, she confessed very early on that she had a debilitating addiction to crack.

 

I assumed she was joking, and couldn't help but laugh (if not a little nervously). She laughed, too, even while confessing the next piece of grim news: she had some very serious body issues (not to mention bulimia), and had been exercising for three hours a day while on the crack diet all semester long. She asked if I'd noticed how much thinner she'd gotten over the semester. "I, uh..." I changed the topic, and she allowed it. We managed to have a normal conversation... for about 10 minutes.

Soon enough, she was back to confessional mode quicker than I could say "Check, please." No, that's not fair of me. I was actually rather appreciative that she was being so open and upfront, not wanting to deceive me. That's truly a rare and coveted quality. And yet, the nature of the things she revealed was just too much!

She confessed that she'd been stressing out over finals. While assuring her that it's pretty normal to stress out over such things, her eyes widened and started to glisten. She'd not only been stressing out, but she'd been crying every single day and needed to drink herself to sleep because of the overwhelming emotions. As if giving herself the cue, she cried for a moment. She told me it had been this way for her for years, and that she was  an emotional wreck. This time, she was the only one laughing.

She seemed to sense that the date was going sour, so I suppose the timing was right to her to pull out her ace-in-the-hole. "Do you wanna see my tattoo?" Mind you, she was wearing shorts so short that I'm not entirely convinced that they weren't panties, and a low-cut shirt revealing much cleavage and midriff, so I could only imagine where this tattoo might have been hidden.

 

Before I could answer one way or another, she stood up from the table and hastily pulled down her shorts enough to reveal her mons pubis (thank you, Google).

 

In colorful cursive letters, she had a tattoo of her own name written right above her lady parts. Strangely, it was positioned upside-down for her reading convenience. Again, a reminder: we were right by the busiest road on campus, and there were pedestrians aplenty.

Well, I didn't wait around for the "I'm an exhibitionist" confession. I decided to bring things to a close, so we parted ways and never saw each other again. It's been years now, but I can't help but wonder about that tattoo.

"He Took Me Out Behind a Shack with an Axe"

Submitted by Elaine:

Trevor said that he had a clever idea for our date: we would chop wood together.  It sounded a little insane, but he was adorable and really seemed earnest about the idea, so I figured that I'd give it a shot.

I met up with him and he took me out behind a shack with an axe.  He positioned a log on a stump and struck at it.  It split and then he put a fresh log up on the stump and handed me the axe.

I hoisted it and swung, splitting it pretty well for a first timer, I'd say.

He took the axe and told me that I was doing it all wrong.  He set up another log and tried it himself, missing the first time and cursing.  He split this next log and then demonstrated on another one.  He then handed me the axe once more.

I hoisted and swung, again making a neat split in the log.  He grabbed the axe from me and asked me if I paid any attention to what he had demonstrated.

"Uh yes," I said, "You hoist the axe and swing down.  There's no real art to it."

"No!" he scolded, and set up another log for himself.  Then another.  Then another.  Then another.  I began wondering if he remembered that I was there, and the fun/novelty factor was dimming.

Finally, he handed me the axe again and set up a log.  I hoisted, swung, and missed.

He laughed.  "See?  You're doing it wrong!"

I whirled to him and said, "I missed one out of three times!  How many times have you missed today?"

He didn't like that.  He took the axe, hoisted it above the log, and swung, missing it!  He then kept at it, faster and faster and faster!  Finally, he kicked the log away and hacked at the stump like a madman.

Terrified, I ran back to my car and took off.  I half-expected to see him in my rearview, chasing me down with the axe!

How I Didn't Meet Your Mother

Submitted by John:

Before our coffee had cooled down, Dina asked me, "How many kids do you want?"

I said, "Uh... I don't know. I may not even want kids."

She gasped and said, "If you don't want at least two kids, then I'd rather know now."

I said, "I don't really know. I'm not in a rush to have them this minute."

She said, "Okay, well, thanks for the coffee," and was silent for the rest of the "date."

The Donkey and the Ass

Submitted by Willa:

Dating profiles certainly never tell the full story, and this was no clearer than during my date with Joe.

Early on during the date, he pointed a finger at me and asked, "Republican or Democrap?"

Yikes! I replied, "I don't much care for politics," to which he replied, "Ooh. Somebody hates America."

Annoyed, I asked, "And what is America to you?"

He said, "The land of the free and the home of the brave. You should try reading the constitution sometime."

I said, "I think I'll exercise one of my rights right now," and I stood up and left. He never followed or contacted me. Thank goodness!

Maybe it Was Her Marbles?

Submitted by James:

Carla was a pro athlete who swam and ran in competitions.  She was small and beautiful, and she seemed really into me, so awesome all around.

On our first date, I took her out to a bar and grill that had some great salads, thinking that she'd easily find something to eat.  When we sat down, I asked her if the menu looked okay, and she said that it did.

Halfway through our meal, she stood up and excused herself to go to the bathroom.

She came back a while later, looking pale.  I asked her what was wrong and she said that she just took such a big dump, she was afraid that she shat out one of her internal organs.

I nearly snorted my chicken through my nose and couldn't help but laugh.  She became angry and said, "What if I did just shit out an internal organ?  I don't feel so well."

I reassured her that people don't typically lose organs (internal or otherwise) on the toilet.  "Besides," I said, "If you lost an organ, I think you'd know it by this point.  Your body would stop functioning.  Or something."

She said, "I feel really dizzy."

"Do you want me to call an ambulance?"

"No."

She sat, her head in her hands for several minutes.  I gave her arm a reassuring squeeze or two, and eventually she said, "I'm feeling better, but I think I should go home."

She called me once after to schedule a second date, but we were never able to reconnect schedules.  I hope that she found a good doctor.

A Bad Apple for the Teacher

Submitted by Ryan:

Alice and I met early last year, probably through the Internet.  When we met for our date at a restaurant, she had a backpack with her.

"Going on a trip?" I asked.

She shook her head.  "No.  I have homework to do."

Turns out, she was in grad school for teaching and had papers and lesson plans to write.  That night.  During our date.

"It won't take too long," she reassured me, "so it seemed silly to cancel.  Give me five minutes... ten minutes, to be safe."

After she had been scrunching down on her work for about a half-hour, I asked her, "Hey, can we just postpone?  This is stupid."

She looked up and said, "Can you give me a fucking break?  The longer we sit here and chat, the longer this is going to take me."

I said, "A good teacher should know how to prioritize."

She said, "Fuck you," gathered up her things, and left.  I hope that no child of mine is ever in any of her classes.

The Sweet Smell of Love

Submitted by Alexandra:

Jeremy showed up to our date stinking like a pile of dog shit.  He was dressed up and his hair was combed, and if I didn't have a sense of smell, then there wouldn't be a problem.  However, my olfactory sense was working just fine, and this guy smelled like three-week-old garbage.

You know that sort of thing you do when someone nearby smells?  You start breathing through your mouth?  But then your mouth becomes moist with the humidity of their stink?  That's what happened, here.

He talked about how he was a civil servant, how he wanted to be married in two years, have kids in three, own a house in four, etc.  It was so hard to concentrate, and all I wanted to do was to step back ten paces and breathe some fresh, clean air.

When the date was over, he embraced me goodbye, and I held my breath, and everything was fine.

He wrote me an e-mail to tell me how awesome he thought the date went and how good he thought our chemistry was.  I wrote him back to tell him, as politely as possible, that I wasn't interested.  Then he wrote back the the dreaded, "Why?" e-mails.  I told him that I didn't think that we had much in common and that I wasn't really attracted to him.

"Why not?" came the desperate reply.  I told him that I wasn't physically attracted to him.  He asked me, "What is it about me you don't like?" and I couldn't bring myself to tell him, so I ignored his e-mail.  And the next one.  And the one after that.  And the one after that.

There's Something About that Bartender

Submitted by Dave:

Kristen and I hit up a bar for our first date.  I preferred it that way, as you're kind of locked in to a dinner, and if there's no chemistry early on, then at a bar, you can end it with no fuss.

Kristen really hit if off... with the bartender.  I was planning to pay for some of her drinks, but he gave her each of hers for free.  She'd smile at him, and he winked at her.  Her words made it seem like she was interested in me, but her actions were all over this guy.  At one point, he handed her a drink, and she touched his hand to thank him. 

Finally, I joked, "Want me to leave you two alone?"

She said, "That probably wouldn't be a good idea."

This was interesting.  "Why not?"

"Because he's an ex.  But we still fool around sometimes."

A-ha.

She went on, "And I'm sorry, but he's kind of got me going, so if you left me alone with him, then I'd probably sleep with him, and I'm trying to get over him."

I suggested, "Should we go somewhere else?"

She said, "No.  I like being the popular girl."  She smiled, but I stopped being interested in her at that point.  Luckily, we weren't out to dinner, so I was able to finish my drink, say goodnight, and abandon her to a night of screaming sex with this bartender guy.

Singing in the Pain

Submitted by Joseph:

My date with Rachel went from zero to weird in a hurry.  Whenever she'd say my name, she'd sing-song it.

"Jo-seph," she croon in a high-pitched voice that reminded me of how my older sister would say my name if she wanted to annoy me.  After three or four times, I asked her why she was doing this.

"J-J-J-Jo-seph!" she said, "It's from the Broadway show.  Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat!"

"Never seen it," I told her.

She looked shocked.  "You have to see it.  Were we going to be doing anything after dinner?"

"Dessert.  Maybe a walk."

"Okay.  If dinner goes well, we're coming back to my place and we're going to watch Joseph."

"You own the Broadway show?"

"Yeah!  Well, the one with me in it from high school.  I played one of Joseph's brothers!  JO-SEPH!"

Ugh.  No thanks.  Despite the possibility that I'd be able to tap it back at her place, I had a feeling that if I put the moves on her, she'd push me away and say, "You're not watching the show, J-J-J-Joseph!"

At dinner, I learned all about her musical theater career (two musicals in high school.  The other one was Oklahoma) and how tight she and her musical theater buddies were, even now, TEN YEARS after high school.  She told me that they were thinking about doing a reunion show of Joseph.  And all of the backstage intrigues and inside jokes!  My!

At this point, I didn't even want to tap it.  I just wanted it to be over.  I called it an early night after dinner and she made me promise that for our next date, I'd go over to her house and watch her musicals.  I promised her that on a second date, we would do just that.

Of course, there never was a second date, and by the way, I had acted in four musicals in high school, but we never got to that.

Kissy Monster

Submitted by Amy:

Philip and I got to know each other through e-mail for a couple of weeks.  We met up with me in a town park for our first date.  He introduced himself, I introduced myself, and the next words out of his mouth were, "What, no kiss?"

I shook my head.  "We're still kind of strangers," I said.

He said, "We just spent two weeks talking.  I don't get a kiss after all that?"

I shook my head.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because we just met."

"But we technically didn't."

"But we technically did."

He said, "So you're going to go all Victorian on me?  What else do you want me to do?  Go kill a marauder?  Or a dragon?  What more do you want?"

I backed away.  "I-I just want to get to know you better," I lied.

He stepped toward me.  "Then kiss me, and I'll give you whatever you desire."

"No!"

"Fuck this!" he yelled and took off, turning a few heads in the park.  Was I out of line here?

Smokin' Cold

Submitted by Sean:

A guy at work that I knew pretty well asked if Id be interested in meeting one of his wife's friends.  I was reluctant at first, but decided to go ahead with it.  He went ahead and send up a blind date, telling me to pick her up from his house at 6.

I drove to his house and figured I'd get the chance to go inside and meet her and hang out for a bit and see from there if we both really wanted to go out.  Nope.  The minute I pulled in the driveway Dara came running outside and hopped in my truck.

We had decided to go for coffee, and I pulled out of the driveway and not even one second after that she pulled
out a joint.

Now, I'm no prude.  I don't care about a little pot and what you do on your own time is your own business.  I went to college, I had my fun too.  However, just meeting someone and then lighting up marijuana in a stranger's truck is a bit too familiar... for me, anyway.

"This is the best," she said, "We'll smoke it on the way to the coffee place."

I said, "Sorry, I don't smoke pot, and I really don't want it in my car."

"Dude, this no different than booze."

I told her my point of view and that even though I didn't care, it was still illegal and I really wasn't comfortable with it being in the car.  I suggested we drive back to my co-workers house and she can drop it off there and then we should go.  Really what I wanted to do was just scrap the whole date, but I didn't want to piss off my co-worker.

She said, "Fine, take me back."

"Do you understand my point of view at all?"

"No.  You're being retarded."

"Okay."

She hopped out of the truck and went inside.   The next day my co-worker said that I overreacted and she was a great girl. I told him I didn't doubt that and explained the situation.  Long story short, the rest of the time I worked there, we didn't really speak anymore and needless to say I didn't see Dara ever again.

Riding in Cars with Boys

Submitted by Starr:

I met Ian on an online dating site. He seemed a bit dorky online, but he was nice. We exchanged a few text messages and finally agreed to meet up one night.

He said he didn't have a car and asked if I could go pick him up. This was definitely not a good sign to me, but I reluctantly agreed.

Seeing as how we had both attended the same high school I figured he didn't live too far. But boy did he ever. Not only was it far away, but it was completely secluded and out in the middle of nowhere in a forested area.

I finally got to his house and he wasn't as attractive as his photos had shown, but he seemed okay. I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.  We left his house to go get something to eat.

On our way to the restaurant he started telling me about his last date. He grew very morose as we passed up a small creek. Then he recounted the incident:

It was their first date and the weather was very stormy. She went to go pick him up and they had a great time. She was beautiful and a teacher. While on their way back to drop him off they were driving over the small bridge by the creek. There was water pooling, but they decided to go for it. The car was swept away by a flood. He was able to get out and grab onto a tree, but they found her body several days later.

She was all he could talk about throughout the entire date. I drove him home and was cautious as I drove by the creek. I went home and looked up his story. It was all true.

Needless to say, I just didn't feel very comfortable going out with him again. He had obviously been through a traumatic event and was not over it. I wished him well and never spoke to him again. I sure hope he has his own car by now. By 24, he really should have had his own. 

The Most Ridiculous Game

Submitted by Amanda:

John was a middle school coach who showed up to our date at the restaurant looking as if he had just rolled out of bed.  Our first conversation went something like this:

I said, "Hi John.  Nice to meet you."

He said, "Hi Amanda.  Do you like games?"

"Uh..."

"Like 'Truth or Dare'?"

"Uh..."

"'Cause I like games like 'Truth or Dare.'"

"Okay."

"So do you like games?"

"Um..."

"You know, like 'Truth or Dare'?"

"Can we order first?"

We looked over the menus and he looked up at me to say, "You know, we can play right here.  Like a fun way of getting to know each other better."

"What about just having a conversation?"

"I like games," he repeated.

"Got it."

"Like 'Truth or Dare.'"

"How old are you?"

He blinked.  "28."

"How old are you really?"

"28."

I couldn't think of anything else to say.   But he thought of something.

"I dare you to go lick that counter over there."

"How does me doing something like that help you get to know me better?"

"It does."

"How?  Plus, I never agreed to a dare."

"Fine.  Then you pick truth."

"I never agreed to play!"

"Then ask me one.  I'll start off."

"Truth or dare."

"Dare!"

"I dare you to have a normal conversation and dinner with me."

Check and mate.  He thought about it for a second and nodded.  The rest of dinner went, astonishingly, quite well.  Mostly because the food was good.  I wanted nothing more to do with this guy, ever.

Naked, Wet, and Way, Way Hairy

Submitted by Grant:

Rose was a greeter at Walmart.  No, I'm not from hicksville, you wise asses.  I'm from Ohio.  Well, so maybe I am from hicksville, but in any event, Rose was a greeter at a Walmart.  No, she wasn't elderly, either.  She was 22.

She had a great smile and was really hot, so I asked her where the cereals were and then I asked her out.

I wanted to take her out to a nice dinner and we made plans to meet, but she called me a couple of hours before the date to ask me if I'd meet her in a nearby park instead.  Oookay.

I parked and walked to a small lake, where she wanted me to meet her.  She showed up, stripped off her clothes, and jumped naked into the water.  "Come on in!" she shouted.

Naked, wet girl?  I'm in.

I took my clothes off and she said, "Holy fuck, Sasquatch.  Have you ever shaved your body?"

Regrettably, I hadn't.  I might have more hair than most guys, but I don't think that I'm too far above average.  Regardless of what I thought, she thought that it was way above average.

She splashed around me for a bit and said, "Will you let me shave you?"

I replied, "Maybe sometime."

She replied, "Today?"

Thinking that this might either be a disaster or potentially really hot, I agreed.  Nothing happened in the water, and we left and went back to her place.

She stretched me out on her floor on a bunch of towels and had me strip completely.  She took out her razor and began.

Jesus Christ, she was like fucking Freddy Krueger with the blade and I pulled away.

"What the fuck is wrong?" she asked, coming closer.

I said, "Go easier, would ya?"

She tried again and soon after it felt like she sliced off a chunk of skin the size of my fist.  I rolled over and up.

She asked, "What?  It's just a little cut."

I put my hand on my back where she had diced me, and it came back with way more than a "little cut's" worth of blood.

I threw my clothes on and was out of there faster than my sex drive at an all-male bible study.

Sour Notes

Submitted by Kelly:

Paul was an acquaintance of mine who I knew through a mutual friend.  He and I both had the same taste in music, so when he called to let me know that he wanted to take me out and had two tickets for awesome seats at a concert, I was completely on board.

I was waiting at the cafe where we were supposed to meet when he called to tell me that he'd be so late that I might as well just meet him at the concert venue.  I was upset, but maybe there was something unavoidable.  At least he called, right?

He showed up to the venue with two other girls, who were acting as human crutches for his drunk ass.  He was very happy to see me, pushed the two other girls over towards me, and asked us, "Okay, now which one should I take inside with me?"

My first inclination on seeing this disgusting display was to say, "Not me," then turn and walk away.

Which is exactly what I did.

The Price Is Right. The Date Is Wrong.

Submitted by Dennis:

It was to be my second date with Allie.  She had been away visiting friends out of state for a week, so I was excited to see her.  I drove to her home to pick her up, and she came outside with a little gift, a small statuette.  I was touched, and thanked her.

As I turned it over in my hands, I saw that a price tag was still stuck to it.  I started peeling it off.

She reached for it and said, "Here, I'll do it."

"It's okay," I told her, "I've got it."

"Let me do it," she said, more insistently.

I almost had it off, so it seemed pointless.  "I've got it.  No worries."

"Fine!" she shouted, jumped out of my car, slammed the door, and went back up to her house.

I waited outside, processing what had just happened for probably close to twenty minutes.  Then, I left.

She called me not long after, asking, "What the hell is your problem?"

I told her that flying off the handle for something so small wasn't cool, and that her attitude was my problem.  She kept calling me "stubborn" and "selfish," and so that was my epic second (and final) date with Allie.

Published. And Certifiable.

Submitted by Donna:

Before we met, Roy worried me a little. He seemed to have some wacky ideas about the way that things worked in society.

He claimed that the banks were controlled by Islamic interests, that Hollywood was really run by the government to keep the masses placated, and that George W. Bush was secretly a Democrat. Aside from these occasional musings, he seemed really nice and had a steady job (he was an audio tech and worked on commercials).

Well, fast-forward to our date, and he showed up with a small stack of books that he wanted me to read. Titles like, It's Not Paranoia, Thoughtcrime Your Way to Freedom, and The Devil Wears Red, White, and Blue.

When I took them in my hands, I couldn't help noticing that he was the author. Of all of them.

"That's right, I'm published," he said, and told me that I could read them.

I carried them inside the place we were meeting for lunch. When we sat down, I made the decision to talk to him about anything other than conspiracy theories, and began by asking him if he played any sports.

He replied by telling me that I should start reading from his volumes without delay, and that he would wait as I read, even offering to answer any questions that I might have as I went along.  How nice!

I asked him if it was okay if I read them later on, at home. He said that he had to take them back, after the date, as he couldn't risk them being lost or ending up in the wrong hands.

I said that I'd rather not read them, and he took them back, begrudgingly.  The rest of the date was quiet and awkward, and I brought it to an early close.

Epidermal Liasons

Submitted by Frank:

Over the course of my first date with Emily, I was alarmed to notice that she would pick off bits of dead skin from around her body and place them into a small plastic canister.

"What's that all about?" I asked her.

"It's for my cat," she said, "I found out by accident that she loves dead skin.  Is it grossing you out?"

"I... what?  Your cat?"

She went on, "It grosses out a lot of people, so I can stop."  She put the canister away.

"You cat?"

"What about her?"

"She loves dead skin?"

"Yep."

"Anything more to it than that?"

She said, "What more can I say?  It's like catnip."

"What if she acquires a taste for human flesh?"

Emily shrugged.  "I'm bigger than she is."

The rest of the date was (surprisingly) normal, but I just couldn't handle the whole cat-eats-my-skin thing.

On My Way

Submitted by Joanne:

Scott came up as a local match for me on a dating website, and we talked for a few weeks before deciding to plan a date at a local tea/coffee place.

I arrived there a few minutes early.  He called me to ask the place's address.  It was strange because he had already asked me where the place was over e-mail.

I waited and he called again ten minutes later to tell me that he was at the address, but there was just a house there on a residential street.  No sign of a coffee shop.  I asked him to make sure that he was at the right address, and he said that he was.  Athens, West Virginia.  That's fine.  Only I was in Athens, Ohio, about three and a half hours away.

I thought it was hysterical, but he didn't.  He asked me to wait there for him to drive up.  I told him that I wouldn't be doing that and that we could reschedule.  He asked me why I wouldn't wait, and I told him, for one, that the shop would be closed by the time he made it.  He asked me why I couldn't wait in the parking lot.

I told him that something about waiting until midnight for a guy in a parking lot was somehow unappealing.  He then said that he had driven a long way and wanted something to show for it.  I told him to buy a souvenir keychain.  He hung up, first telling me that he was going to come by the coffee place, closed or not, when he made it back to the right Athens.

I figured he was just a loon and wrote him off.  At one in the morning, though, I received a phone call from him, but opted not to take it.  He called about ten more times, and I declined the call each time.

They Only Come Out at Night

Submitted by Cooper:

I was on a dating site really late one night when Maggie messaged me. She seemed cool and after we spoke for a couple of hours, she asked me if I wanted to meet up that night. This was around midnight.

I picked her up and she directed me to a park just outside of town, one with some old, abandoned buildings. I followed her out of the car and we sat down in a field.

I was hesitant to try anything, as she didn't send me any signals and I had just learned of her existence on a dating site not three hours prior.

She was in the middle of asking me if I liked the Three Stooges when she let out a wet, creamy fart that can only be described as biblical.

She went right on talking, but all I could think was, "Holy fuck, this girl must've just blown out half of her innards."

I couldn't concentrate on anything else she said, although she mentioned that she was in court-ordered therapy for some sort of indecent exposure to her family.

I dropped her back off at her house, said goodnight, and that ended the weirdest date of my life.

The Line in the Sand

Submitted by Dave:

Carly and I had agreed to go Dutch on everything for our first date.  It was her idea, and it sounded fine to me, although I was used to paying for most things on a first date.

When the check came for dinner, she didn't reach for her purse, even after I had put down my share of the bill.  "Are you still going to split this with me?" I asked her.

She said, "No.  I changed my mind," and smiled at me.

I didn't want to make a big deal out of it, and luckily, I had enough to cover both of us.  I would have had no problem covering both of us from the beginning, but I didn't like being tricked into paying.  It felt manipulative, and it bothered me for the rest of the date.

We were on our way to hear a local band play when I asked her if we were going to split the tickets.  She again said, "No.  You can handle it."

I then told her that I didn't want to go to the concert anymore, since I felt as if she was taking advantage of me.  She started yelling and asking me what my problem was.  I told her that she was my problem and I decided to leave the date, then and there.

She then followed me, asking me if the weeks of e-mails and phone calls meant nothing to me.  Didn't I still like her?

"No.  I changed my mind," I told her, and left her there. 

What You Really Think of Me

Submitted by Derek:

Whenever I talked during my date with Margot, I noticed that she would look down and jitter her arm slightly next to herself in the booth, as if she was writing something.

"It looks like you're writing something," I joked.

She held up a notepad and pen, and told me that she was writing down as much of what I said as she could, as she had a bad memory.  I asked her why she didn't use a tape recorder, and she told me that that was a good idea and that she was thinking about saving up money to buy one.

She excused herself to go to the bathroom at one point and I checked her notes on me.  They weren't notes on what I had said.  It was the word, "asshole" over and over again, about 500 times.  No joke.

I replaced the notepad and she came back from the bathroom.   The rest of the date went well, up until I had finished paying for dinner and she held up the pad to me.

"Look," she said, "Someone thinks you're an asshole!"

I raised an eyebrow.  She went on, "Not me, though," and giggled to herself.

First and last date.

I Think I Was Involved in a Spy Drama

Submitted by Emma:

Ted and I agreed to meet at a bar.  When I made it there, he hadn't arrived yet, but another guy came up to me and asked me if I was waiting there for Ted. 

I asked him who he was, and he asked me again if I was waiting for Ted.  Then he asked me to follow him.

I stayed where I was - who was this guy after all? - and turned to order a drink.

The guy repeated that he thought it was best for me to follow him before Ted arrived.  It was really creeping me out, so I told him to either tell me who he was or leave me alone.  The guy took off, and Ted arrived a few minutes later.

The date went well for, I don't know, maybe about five minutes.  Ted seemed really friendly and interested in getting to know me.  Then he asked me really low if anything weird happened before he showed up.

I told him that a weird guy came by and asked me to go with him.  Ted banged on the bar and stood up.  He took out his phone.  "Reggie," he muttered, and excused himself to go outside.

I waited in the bar for about a half-hour before paying my tab and going outside to find Ted.  He wasn't there at all.  I went home.

Three days later, a text arrived from Ted.  It read, "Sorry am not."  Okay then.

Furious and Soaking Wet

Submitted by Brianna:

Greg and I spoke online for a while.  He said that he worked for the local town and was just getting over a nasty breakup.  We arranged to meet in person. He asked if I'd meet him at his house.

When I got there, I had to go to the bathroom, and Greg showed me where it was. While I was going, Greg smashed the door open with his younger brother and threw water balloons at me.



I screamed and asked them to stop, but when they ran out of water balloons, they just laughed and walked off, leaving the door open.



When I was done in the bathroom, I found Greg and his brother at the kitchen table.  I was still soaking wet and I yelled at them, asking why they did that.

"Did what?" they asked, and laughed.

I turned and left on the spot.  He didn't try following me.  It was so weird.

Did I mention Greg was 25 years old?

When Discrimination is Okay

Submitted by Travis:

Beth told me, over the phone before we met, that she used to be a flight attendant who was unlawfully fired from her job, and was thusly involved in some sort of litigation against her former airline employers.  I asked her why they had fired her, but she was a bit vague on that point.  Something about discrimination.

Well, it couldn't have been weight discrimination.  The girl, according to her online photos, was a bit of a knockout.  Maybe a couple of extra pounds, but a even those were in all the right places.  We set up a date.

Wouldn't you know it, she showed up and she was as big as a papa moose.  Those photos must have been of her hot younger sister, or taken a few thousand donuts in the past.  She seemed injection-molded into her skintight jeans, and her gut rolled over the top of them, like too much ice cream in a teeny tiny cone.

The confusion and disappointment must have been apparent, because her first statement to me was, "You seem disappointed and confused."

My response was, "No shit.  You don't look a thing like your pictures!"

This made her mad.   "Why does that matter?  Why do you have to be so superficial?  It's what's inside that counts!"

I said, "So we've already established that you're a liar on the inside, and we've known each other in person for less than a minute."

She muttered, "Fuck this," turned, and took off.

I was going to call after, "I'd rather not," but I didn't. 

A Few Cubes Short of a Full Glass

Submitted by Andrew:

Tracy had very obviously been burned by some past relationships, as she was the single biggest bitch I've ever had the displeasure to date.  I picked out a restaurant and we agreed to meet there.

She was already sitting down in the restaurant before I made it inside.  The first thing she did was check her watch, then she asked me if I smelled something funny.   I didn't, but she kept repeating, over and over, "Something smells funny.  Since I got here, I've had a strange aroma in my nose."  Then she introduced herself.

She made faces the entire time as if she was surrounded by noxious fumes.  She yelled at the waiter for putting too much ice in her water, she yelled at me for not being man enough to tell the waiter that there was too much ice in my own drink.  So what's a little OCD among friends?

That wasn't it, though, she asked me, point blank, how many times I'd had sex.  She didn't seem interested for playful curiosity's sake.  That I could understand.  She seemed totally serious, with some sort of black, harpy-esque purpose.

I tried to evade the question, but she countered with, "You can cut the bullshit.  I know that every guy keeps a tally.  What's yours?"

I told her, and she said, "That many?"

I couldn't tell if that was more or fewer than she was expecting, but I honestly didn't care.  I shrugged, and then she didn't talk to me for five minutes.

At the end of those five minutes, she asked me, "Now out of all of those, how many times were sex with girls?"

I told her that the number I quoted was 100% women.  She snorted into her water, which now seemed to have the correct amount of ice cubes.  I didn't like the way she kept looking at me, as if she was calculating something.

She asked me again if I smelled something awful, and I told her that I didn't.  She then accused me of being the smelly one, but she had said that she thought something smelled weird since she got there, and I reminded her of that.

"Oh yeah," she said, sounding disappointed.

Towards the end of dinner, she checked her watch and said, "You know, I canceled another date for you."

I didn't know what to say, so I thanked her.  She said, "Whatever.  Neither of you were probably worth it."

What the hell am I supposed to say to that?  I raised my water glass as if to toast her, because I couldn't think of anything else to do.

She said, "Eew!  You don't toast with water!  What the hell are you thinking?  You really are a moron."

I smiled.  I couldn't help it.

She continued, "No, you really are.  I could be at home by myself, having a great time, but instead I'm here, trying to have a nice time with you."

Oh man oh man oh man... what an opening.  Yes, I know you'll all hate me for it, but I had to.  I had to.

I said, "I have no doubt that you'd be having a great time.  At home.  By yourself."

She said, "You're so immature.  Just pay the check and let's cut our losses, okay?"

Jesus, what a bitch.

What Would Emily Post Do?

Submitted by Angie:

Carl told me that he was bringing me "something special" for our first date.  I felt a little weird, as I thought it was a bit early to be trading gifts back and forth, but other than that, he seemed on the level, and he assured me that he didn't expect or want anything in return.

He showed up and gave me the gaudiest necklace I've ever seen.  Seriously, the thing was made of plastic and had just about every color you could think of.  It looked like a baby's plaything, to put it into perspective.  I pretended to be truly grateful, and he seemed satisfied.  After all, I was grateful for the sentiment, but I had to wonder why he thought I'd like it.  I asked him if he made it.

"No!" he said, as if he would never be capable of accomplishing such a monumental feat.  Then he looked at me expectantly.

"Thank you," I said again, and he kept looking at me.  "What is it?" I asked him.

"Did you bring me anything?"

I said, "No.  You said that you didn't want or expect anything."

He looked down and said, "Yeah, but I thought... well, I was just saying that."

I honestly thought that I had misheard him.  "What?"

"Nevermind.  Forget it."

Dinner was SO awkward after that, and I tried to make conversation, but he'd only smile or laugh weakly and didn't seem at all interested in me anymore.  I couldn't wait to forget all about him, which I did, until visiting this site.

The Monster in the Bathroom

Submitted by Stacey:

Albert asked me out one night to a mutual friend's house party.  From when we walked in the door to when I joined up with our friends to when we played beer pong to chatting outside on the deck, Albert couldn't keep his hands off of me.  Sure, it was implied that he had asked me out there, but even assuming that this was a first date, dude, keep your hands to yourself!

He kicked back a few and came on even stronger than ever.  I asked him to stop and he would for five minutes, and then he'd go right back to it.

At one point while I was talking to friends, I had lost track of him, and excused myself to go to the bathroom.

While I was in there, I heard a muffled noise on the other side of the shower curtain.  I finished my business and pulled the curtain away to find Albert, curled up and staring up at me!

I screamed and ran out of the bathroom.  People around asked what was wrong, and I told them, and some of the guys went in, pulled him out, said that he had a little too much to drink, and they took him for a walk outside to sober up.

Definitely one of the weirdest experiences I've ever had, date or otherwise.

The Dangers of Not Speaking Softly, Nor in a Civil Tone

Ah, Monica.  She works at Sephora, has a younger brother, and two loving parents.  We chatted a bit on the dating site's instant messenger thing before meeting up.

Me: Hi!
NuttyMonica22: hi
Me: It's nice to "meet" you, of sorts. What are you up to?
NuttyMonica22: nothin
Me: According to your profile, you work at Sephora. What's that like?
NuttyMonica22: yea*

*Interlude: Is being a good conversationalist too much to ask? Maybe I ask for too much, but a good conversation is certainly something I think necessary.

Me: I work in entertainment.
NuttyMonica22: u make pornos?
Me: Heh. Sadly, no.
NuttyMonica22: oh, too bad. i'd come act in one. i act sometimes.*

*Interlude: A girl who will act in a film has my attention, but one who would act in a porno has my complete attention. Fast-forward>>>

Me: Would you like to meet up sometime?
NuttyMonica22: yea. tomorrow.
Me: Tomorrow? That's not too soon?
NuttyMonica22: no. i wanna grab ya before another girl does ;-)
Me: Wow. That sounds intriguing.*

*Interlude: Actually, it sounds psychotic, but let's give it a whirl!

I meet the bespectacled, dark-haired, short, slightly plump Monica in front of the Virgin Megastore in Times Square. She smells very good and she's dressed very well; a lovely blue blouse and long black skirt.

"Hi Monica! It's nice to meet you!"

She initiates a hug. "Hey, you too. Where would you like to go for lunch?"

"What are you in the mood for?"

She says, "Whatever you're in the mood for."*

*Interlude: I want a date, not a drone. Surely, you must have some opinion on the subject of where to go to eat.

"Um, well, is there anything you won't eat? I'll eat just about anything–"

"Fine! We'll eat fucking fast food! Everyone'll be happy!"

"Whoa–what? I just–wait–"

She buries her head in her hands.  "Oh God, I'm sorry. I just–ergh. I've had a crappy day. That's it."

"We can be two adults about it, though. I see no need to take it out on me."

"I wasn't taking it out on you! God, what is it with guys and–"

"Monica, calm down. You sort of did take it out on me, but if you're having a bad day, then I can just try to cheer you up–"

"Don't you tell me to calm down! You don't know what the fuck I'm going through!"*

*Interlude: I had paid $7.50 to make it down into the city. Recalling that it would take me an additional $7.50 to leave the city, I wanted to try and fix the situation so that I could at least have something to show for my $15 total transportation expenditures. There was a new cheesecake place a bit uptown I had been itching to try... now just to escape from this creature...

Looking up at the sky in hope of some divine intervention, I turn back to the fuming Monica. Her shapely pale face had faded into a deep, angry crimson. I begin stepping away from her.

"Monica, how about if we maybe just cancel this whole thing? I mean, it's obvious that–"

She grabs my jacket and pulls me towards her. "Don't leave me! Don't leave me alone!" She buries herself into my coat and puts her right thumb in her mouth.

I turn my head left and right.  Luckily, this is nothing out of the ordinary in New York.  "Monica, please–please don't do this. Come on. We'll have a good time, and we'll forget that this ever happened. Promise."*

*Translation: I'm hetero, but at this point, I'd rather be on a date with a guy.

*Fast-forward. We're in an 8th avenue kosher deli! >>>

Monica has painstakingly removed each item from her BLT, and is currently arranging the ingredients in alphabetical order on her plate. My turkey sandwich, still all in one piece, tastes all the better, for some reason.

"Monica, are you planning on eating your food-formerly-known-as-sandwich?"

She shoots me a look that would emasculate an elephant. "Casey thought it was cute when I did this."

"Casey?"

She leans back and crumples into herself, darkly. "My former boyfriend."

"Oh. You know what's funny?"

"What?"

"The fact that I'm not Casey."

The meal is completed in silence. She shoots plentiful dirty looks over her glasses at me. Afterwards, we walk out of the deli. I'm anxious to bring the date to a close, but it's not quite done yet. Oh no, not by a long shot.

She cocks her head and smiles devilishly. "Take a walk with me?"*

*No. Say no. Just say, "No thanks. I want to go home." Say, "You're nuts," and run away. Do NOT take a walk with this girl. Do you hear me? Hello?

I say, "Sure. Where to?"

"The park."

"Central park?"

"No, fuckhead, MacArthur Park! Yes, Central Park! God!"

She storms on ahead. I take my chance, turn on my heels, and walk in the opposite direction. I don't need this. I need cheesecake.

Sure enough, I hear her feet hitting the pavement in my direction. I quicken my pace, delaying the inevitable feel of her desperate hands on my jacket again. Yank!

"Where are you going? Don't leave me! I'm okay... I'm okay... I'm okay..."

"Christ, Monica, ease off! What the hell is wrong with you?"

She caresses my face and leans in for a kiss. I pull away.*

*I like kisses. For me to refuse one, there has to be something really wrong. Like a psycho girl, for instance.

She gives me a pained look, then walks towards the park. I shrug and decide to follow her. Why not? It promises to be an entertaining jaunt, and we'll be near that fine cheesecake place.

*Fast-forward>>>

We're sitting in the park. Her head is on my shoulder and she takes my hand. "Casey and I used to walk here all of the time."

"Uh-huh," I say, barely paying attention.

"Casey and I had a great time together."

"I'm sure," I mutter, watching an attractive blonde walk past.

"Casey and I fucked behind that bush over there."

I stand up. "Hey, Monica, guess what?"

"What?"

I state the conclusion of my findings, "You're a fucking psychopath!"

She stands up, comes right into my face, and screams, "I'm the nicest fucking girl you'll ever fucking meet! All I've done today is treat you like a fucking prince!"

Calmly, I move in for the kill. "Monica, please speak softly and in a civil tone."

"How dare you fucking take me out and treat me like–"

"Please speak softly and in a civil tone."

"Fuck you and fuck your civil tone bullshit!"

"Please speak softly and in a civil tone."

She raises her arm to hit me, but she hasn't counted on my summer camp karate lessons. I do a quick high block as her arm sails at my head. Her fist ricochets into her nose, which she clutches with both hands.

"My nose! My fucking nose!"

"Please speak softly and in a civil–"

"You broke my fucking nose!" She waves her arms about, and indeed, her nose is bleeding slightly.

Cracking up, I barely utter my final, "Please speak softly and in a civil tone."

"Aaaaaaagh!" she screams and gives chase. I'm faster. Losing her easily, I slip inside of the dessert place, order a slice of cheesecake, walk back to Grand Central, and take the train home.


EPILOGUE:

NuttyMonica22: hello?
NuttyMonica22: i'm sosososososo sorry
NuttyMonica22: please talk to me
Me: Casey broke up with you because you don't speak softly nor in a civil tone.

///You have added NuttyMonica22 to your Block List>>>

From the "Exuberant Red Flag Waver" Department:

Submitted by Ashley:

I work in an office with a few other satellite offices around town.  Ben worked at one of these other offices and he came to mine one day with a small group from his office for a meeting.

We both missed the first half of the meeting because we were so wrapped up in conversation with each other.  He seemed like a terrific guy and he had a great smile.  We made plans to meet up that weekend.

He called me a little less than an hour before our date to ask if we could postpone for the next day.  I had plans for most of the next day, so, a little put out, I offered to reschedule for the following weekend.

We chatted by phone a couple of days that week, and by the time the weekend rolled around, I was ready to forget all about his last-minute rescheduling. 

He wasn't, though.  He showed up with four dozen (yes, 48) long-stemmed roses.  He apologized over and over, and, while I think it was kind of over the top, I gave him a great big hug.  Everything seemed fine.

At the restaurant, we talked about this and that, and we began discussing our jobs.

As it turns out, he hated working where he did.  He hated it so much, that at one point during dinner, he pounded the table, and flecks of spit flew out of his mouth.  I'm sure it was probably more than he meant to do, but it gave me the first inklings of discomfort.

At one point, he said, "And I'm pretty sure that my boss is cheating on his wife."

"How do you know?" I asked him.

"I saw him with another woman.  Well, I saw another woman going into his house."

"You were at his house?"

"Yeah.  Across the street from it.  I followed him home."

Hoping to make light of a rapidly discomforting conversation, I joked, "Is that why you canceled on me last weekend?"

He stared at me.

Oh no.

Oh yes.

He stammered, "Did I... did... how would you know that?"

Uh oh.  Me and my big mouth.  I said, "I was just joking around.  I didn't really imagine that you..."

"Did he put you up to this?  I wouldn't put it past him."

I shook my head.  "No.  Ben, I–"

He put his fork down over his barely-began dinner and waved over the waiter.  "Check please," he said, "I'll take mine to go."

Ben then took out a wad of cash, slammed it on the table, and stood up.  He turned to me and said, "I hope this was worth it.  Now I know," and left me there.

I finished my dinner and went home.

The next day at work, I told my boss what had happened, and Ben was fired.  I still wonder if it was the right thing to do.

Girls Just Want to Have Mugs

Submitted by Chris:

A friend of mine set me up with Melissa, a slim little thing with big glasses.  Melissa was really shy and never said more than she had to during the date, which consisted of dinner and a post-dinner coffee stop.

She was one of those people who you just can't make conversation with.

"What do you do for a living, Melissa?"

"I teach."

"What do you teach?"

"Spanish."

"What drew you to that?"

*shrug*

I felt bad talking mostly about myself, so I didn't end up saying too much.  The second half of dinner was one of the most uncomfortable situations I've ever been in, as it passed in nearly complete silence save for an occasional, "Pass the bread."

Coffee (which I couldn't believe I had let it progress to) went about the same way, if not for one odd thing.  We passed by a display of handmade mugs in the coffee shop, and Melissa just stood there, transfixed.

She said, "I love handmade mugs.  These are so awesome."

She picked out five and bought them.  Finally, hoping that I had something on which to engage her, I began asking her questions about her love of handmade mugs.  That was it!  She went on forever about mugs, mug styles, different-colored mugs, the history of mugs... wow.  I learned so much about mugs that night.

I walked her to the door of her apartment afterward.  She turned to me and said, "You may kiss me upon my cheek."

I stared at her, and said, "Thanks.  Maybe someday.  Have a good night."  I turned and left.

I'll Need a Coat of Primer After This One

Submitted by Beth:

Nick and I chatted online before we met in person.  He told me that he worked around luxury homes, but he seemed really vague about what exactly it was that he did with them.

He said something to the effect of, "You know, I hang around them, check them out, you know."

I asked, "So you're a burglar?"

"Nah.  I work on them.  Construction, but not really contracting..."

Hmm.  He said that he had access to one such home and asked if I wanted to see it before heading out for dinner, a movie, etc.  I told him that it sounded unusual, so I would be game.

I met him at the place, a really nice address in a great part of town.  I knocked on the door, and he greeted in painter's attire.  That's it.  The big mystery.  He was a house painter.  And he wasn't at all ready to go anywhere.

He took me through the rooms and introduced me to his fellow painters.  A whole team of them were working on this one mansion.

"You could've just told me that you're a house painter," I said.

He said, "Well, I am the boss."

Whoops, another lie.  I met "the boss" a few minutes later. It turns out, Nick had scheduled our date right in the middle of his shift!  He introduced me to his boss, saying, "Hey.  My girlfriend's here.  Can I scatter?"

His boss, who I think was younger than Nick was, said, "No.  Your shift just started an hour ago.  You get a half-hour in a bit."

I told Nick that I should probably just go, but Nick seemed adamant about giving me a tour, showing me the paint he used, telling me how hard it was to reach certain areas of the ceiling, and so on.

Towards the end of the tour, he asked me if I could hang around the neighborhood for a few hours to wait for him to go on break.  This neighborhood was strictly residential and didn't have anywhere to "hang around."

I told him that he should schedule something with me for one of his days off, but to be honest, I wasn't into him at all anymore, and I'm glad that he never contacted me.

The Dudette Abides

Submitted by Liz:

Jack promised to take me bowling for a first date.  I was in a league for a while and loved to hit the lanes.  He bragged about being a great bowler himself, so it was strange that when he picked me up, he suggested doing something else, like going for mini-golf or hitting up an arcade.

No, man.  You said bowling, and bowling we shall do.

Bowling we did.  "Don't go easy one me," he warned.  Loud and clear.

In game one, I handed it to him.  In game two, I butchered him.  By game three, he was toast.  He became more and more silent as the night went on, and while I encouraged him at the game and tried to strike up conversations, he seemed to be feeling less and less sure of himself.

As we left the lanes, I heard him mutter something under his breath.  I asked him to repeat it, and he told me that he didn't think it was fair that I beat him in each game, and that I should've let him win one, if I really cared about his feelings.

I told him that if he wanted to be a better bowler, I'd be happy to hit the lanes anytime he wanted and give him advice.

To that, he said, "Ugh," and nothing more.

In the parking lot we parted ways, and he never called me.  Part of me kind of hopes that he ended up dating another woman from my league who would royally serve him his own ass once more.

Don't Tangle with the Lizard Bitch

Submitted by Erika:

While working as a receptionist at a car dealership I was asked out on a date by a much older customer who was having his truck worked on in the service department.  I politely turned him down, stating that I didn't date customers because of a bad experience prior (that wasn't true, I just didn't want to go out with him).

He called the dealership and asked me out every day for a week straight and I politely turned him down each time.  The next week he hand-delivered me a single red rose and a box of chocolates with a note asking me out again.

Several of my co-workers saw this and told me that I should give him a chance since he had been so persistent and sweet.  He called later that day and I agreed to go out with him that weekend.  He said he would pick me up at my apartment and we would go out for "dinner and a movie."

He arrived on time and brought me another rose.  So far, so good!  He asked if I knew of a Chinese place that was close by and I did so I gave him directions.

We got to the restaurant and the hostess greeted us, asking how many were in our party.  I quickly replied, "Two, thank you."

He cut in with, "Wait, we want it to go."

I was totally in shock, but, hey, whatever.  He told me to pick out two of my favorite items and while we waited for the food we went next door to rent a movie.  He may have said "dinner and a movie," but what he meant was "take-out and a rental."

Against my better judgment, we went to his apartment, which to my horror was a studio in the basement of a large building.  The only furniture was a bed, a nightstand, a single wooden chair, and a TV.

After spooning out food for me onto a paper plate he threw himself onto the bed.  I took the wooden chair and asked him if he was having any. 

"No, I don't like anything you picked out.  But I'll just order a pizza later.  Hey, is it hot in here?"  He then removed his shirt and sprawled himself out across the bed in a pose that I am sure was an attempt to be sexy.

Suddenly no longer hungry, I set down my plate and informed him that it was not hot as it was January and I could see my breath in his apartment.

"Well, if you're cold, why don't you come sit next to me and I'll warm you up?"  Then he rubbed and patted a spot next to him on the bed.

Resisting the urge to barf up the few bites of dinner I had taken, I asked him to take me home.  He pleaded with me to stay and watch the movie next to him, but I kept insisting he take me home.  He finally agreed.  The half hour drive back to my apartment was filled with him begging for a kiss goodnight and me refusing.

The next day, he called me at work and asked me out for a second date.  I politely refused, this time citing the fact that I didn't think we had anything in common.  He begged and begged for me to give him a second chance telling me that I would feel differently if I hadn't wanted to leave early and if I wasn't "such an ice-blooded lizard bitch."

I promptly hung up on him.  Thereafter, every time he called the dealership for service on his truck, he always asked, "Is this the lizard bitch?"  If I ever happened to be the one answering the line, I'd respond, "Yep," and immediately transfer him.

The Butter Sculptor

Submitted by Ian:

Dawn told me over e-mail that she made butter sculptures.  She sent me photos of them and they looked pretty sweet.  I told her so, and she invited me over to her house so that I could see them and some of the ones that were in-progress.  Awesome.

She had a whole row of fridges in her parents' house that had been modified to hold her creations.  She was working on two at the moment and they looked really good.  One was of a pine cone while the other was of what I think was a parade grand marshall.  They really were really good, and I'm not just saying that.

She told me that she had a special workshop in her garage that was kept at a really low temperature.  She led me in and hit the lights.  I saw that she was working on a scale model of Rodin's The Thinker.  It looked good, but she ran up to it and seemed really distraught.  She made some strange noises and I asked her what was wrong.

She wheeled on me, demanding to know if I had touched a thermostat.  I told her that I didn't even know where the thermostat was.  She pushed past me, screaming, "House meeting!  House meeting now!"

Sheepishly, I followed her into her kitchen, where her parents and a brother sauntered in.  I introduced myself to them, barely receiving more than a grunt in exchange.  She demanded to know where Sam was.  Sam, I gathered, was another brother.

Her mother said that Sam was out of state.  Dawn yelled, "Damn it!  It's not a real house meeting, then!  Who turned down the thermostat?"

Then she turned to me, white as a sheet.  She asked, "Did you close the door behind you after we left the garage?"

Holy fuck.  I didn't.

"Uh..." I began, turning around, "I'll go check."

She shoved past me, muttering, "I make fucking butter sculptures.  Did I mention that they motherfucking melt?"

At this point, alone with her silent, staring family, I became a trifle uncomfortable.  Should I go or stay?

A scream from the garage.  "NO!"

I said to her family, "I think... yeah, I'm going to go."

Thinking it was the right thing to do, I went to the garage and saw Dawn hastily fixing her statue.  "Uh... bye," I said, "You're busy, so I'll just leave you to it."

She didn't look up.  "Bye," she said.

I thought about asking her if she needed some toast, but decided not to.  In retrospect, I should have.

Why Country Folk Shouldn't Date

Submitted by Rudy:

Julie, who I met online, and I went out to a Starbucks.  She ordered some hot Tazo tea thing and I had a frapp.  We sat down and she instantly swigged down some of her tea.

Her eyes bulged out, she put her hand to her mouth, and she spit the hot fluid all over the table and myself.

Then, she did it again.

Then, she grabbed my drink and sucked down nearly half of it.  This was all in the course of about ten seconds.

"What's wrong?  What's the problem?" I asked her.

Gasping, incredulous, she pointed at her tea.  "It's hot!" she said.

Joking, I asked her if she had ever had tea before, but she didn't like that question.  She made a face and went to the bathroom.

When she came out twenty or so minutes later, she told me that it was nice meeting me and that she had to go.

I asked her if she was serious, and she said that she was.  I couldn't believe it, but she at least let me walk her back to her car.  The rest of my frapp was delicious.

Like Dodging a Loser Freight Train

Submitted by Amber:

As I was getting to know Bill, he told me that he had never been married and had no kids.  We arranged a first date together.

He seemed a little down during dinner.  I asked him what was wrong.  He said, "Nothing really.  My ex is doing some custody battle bullshit over our kids."

I reminded him that he said that he had no ex or kids.  He got pissed and said something like, "Why does every woman have to call me out on everything?  Can't I just meet someone who doesn't want to put my balls in a petri dish?"

I was a little shocked at this, as I'm sure you can imagine, and I began wondering what else he had lied about when he got a phone call, which he took.  I think it was one of his guy friends, who he joked around with and then started yelling at over the phone as if I wasn't even there.

I excused myself and left before he could stop me.  He called me up to scream me up and down, but coming from him, it didn't mean very much.

Date Was Dead on Arrival

Submitted by Jeff:

I was on my way to meet Lisa at a mall, from which we were going to do dinner, when she called me up to cancel last minute.  I asked her if everything was okay, and she said that it was a family thing.  I wished her well, we made plans to postpone, and that was that.

Five minutes after I was on my way home, she called back to say that she likely wouldn't have to cancel after all.  I asked if everything was okay, and she said that it was.  I turned around and headed back to the mall.

I had parked when she called again.  Guess what?  She'd have to cancel after all!  I asked her if she was absolutely sure, as I didn't want to spend the evening going back and forth.  She put me on hold for about ten minutes then returned to the line to tell me that she would be able to come out to meet me for a little bit.

I asked her if she was sure; if there was a family emergency, then I didn't want to be in the way.  She said that she was already on her way to meet me, so I figured that it was all taken care of, at least as far as I was concerned.

We met up and she asked if we could make a quick pit stop before dinner.  Where?

Turns out, her pit stop was the HOSPITAL.  Her cousin had overdosed on something or other and was in stable condition.

I told her that I wasn't too comfortable with the idea and that she should probably spend the time with her family without worrying about a date.  She said that it wouldn't take long and that she wanted me there for support.

At the hospital, we waited for over an hour to be admitted to see her cousin, who was comatose or asleep.  I held her hand and tried to be as supportive as possible.  When we finally made it to his room, she stared at him for less than a minute and said that we could go.

I asked her if she still wanted to hang out or if she wanted to spend the time with her family.  She said that she wanted to go home, and so she did.  Strangest first date I've ever had.

Fowl Play

Submitted by Ellen:

Kevin took me to a local amusement park.  He used to work there, so we got in for free.  He seemed normal, except for the fact that he made a big deal out of being a duck in a previous life.  He claimed to know this since he visited a psychic and also since ducks seemed to listen to him when he spoke.

He took me on a tunnel ride, and well aware of what happens inside of tunnel rides, I mentally prepared myself for whatever he might try.  He was cute, a bit of a goofball, and funny, so I didn't see any harm in a little bit of fun.

When it got dark, he leaned in all right, then poor guy started quacking.  Right in my face, soft and breathy, but quacking, and no mistake.

I asked him what he was doing but he didn't reply.  A couple more quacks and he went back to sitting there, silent.

He barely spoke to me for the rest of the date.  It was like he was one guy - somewhat charming, if not a little insane - when we first entered the tunnel, and when we emerged, he was like a quieter, more subdued, boring version of himself.

I asked him after some time if everything was all right, and he just shrugged.  I didn't push it any further, and the rest of the date went just like that.  We parted ways at the end, and I never heard from him ever again.

Once, Twice, Three, Shoot!

Submitted by Thomas:

Christina and I traded e-mails and one day wrote me, "I'm taking photos this weekend at an abandoned farm, out-of-state.  Want to come?"

Heck yes!

We drove for three hours to what could best be described as an abandoned farm plus a category 5 hurricane.  There was literally nothing there, save a single, rotting wooden wall among a field of wood and metal debris.  She jumped out and I followed her.

She took a number of photographs, then ran into a field and stretched out in the grass.  I followed and sat next to her.

"How'd you find this place?" I asked.

"It belongs to an ex-boyfriend.  He never comes here, though.  Don't worry.  He took me out shooting here."

"Wow."

"I brought my guns with me.  Want to try?"

"Uh... sure."

We went back to her car and she pulled a couple of rifles out of her trunk.  She pointed one at me and said, "Bang!"

I nearly had a coronary and definitely lost my cool.  "What the fuck are you thinking?" I yelled.

She said, "Relax.  It's not loaded.  See?"

She pointed it at the ground and pulled the trigger.  It went off.  We both jumped sky high.  She dropped it.

I said, "I'm done.  That's it."

She said, "It's just the ground.  I didn't shoot you or anything."

I repeated that I wanted to leave.  She said, "If we don't stay, then I'll shoot you."

I knew she was kidding, but that was the last thing she should've said to get me to calm down.  I said, "I don't feel safe hanging out with someone who doesn't even remember loading her loaded weapons."

"Fine!" she shouted, "Be an asshole!"

She threw the guns back into her trunk, climbed into the car, and we took off.  The whole way back, every ten minutes or so, she'd turn to me, almost in tears, and repeat, "You're such an asshole.  You ruined everything!  I hope you're happy."

Whatever.  I'd rather remain living so that I could ruin even more stuff.

Skin-NER!

Submitted by Laurel:

I found a guy online named Rob Skinner.  He came across as nice, but a little jumpy.  He took certain things I said the wrong way, as if I wanted to start a fight with him, which I didn't.  He told me that people always made fun of his name, but I didn't press him any further on it, as it was obviously a sore subject.

When we met up in person, he seemed grumpy, and when I asked him what was wrong, he told me that it was nothing.  Okay.

We sat down to lunch and he asked me if I thought his name was funny.  I told him I didn't think so.

Then, he launched into a tirade about how he hated The Simpsons.  How the character of Principal Skinner and Superintendent Chalmers ("Skin-NER!") had ruined his childhood.  Everyone from classmates to teachers to professors to his own parents (?) would make fun of him, he said.

"Who'd you skin today, Skinner?"

"Skin-NER!"

"Look out for your skin!  Here comes Skinner!"

And so on.  I told him that I didn't think his name was a big deal at all, and then asked him if he was in a bad mood because someone had teased him.  He didn't answer.

We ended up walking out by a creek.  He picked up a stick.  I asked him if it bothered him so much, why not change his name?

He stopped walking and said, "I shouldn't have to change for the world.  The world should change for me!"

He raised his arm behind his head, presumably to throw the stick into the creek, and ended up clocking me in the head with it.  Hard.

He took the time to throw the stick into the creek, then turned back to me.  "What happened?" he asked, as if he didn't know.

I started laughing, I couldn't help it.  "Skin-NER!" I said through the pain.

Ooh.  He didn't like that.  Not one bit.  He stepped toward me, and I felt sure he was going to hit me.  "What the hell?" he yelled, "You're one of them!  Fuck this!"

He kicked at the ground and took off.

That was the last I saw of Skin-NER!

Something Condoms Won't Prevent

Submitted by Adam:

I met Janet online.  She seemed sweet, attractive, and most importantly, sane.  I picked her up at her house with the intent of bringing her to dinner and playing it by ear afterward.  Maybe a walk, maybe ice cream, who knows?

We exchanged the usual first date nervous pleasantries when she blurted, "Did you bring a condom?"

Uh... well... er...

"Yes," I said, although I didn't have any plans to use it that night.  I figured that most guys traveled prepared.

"Turn around.  Take me home."

"Are you serious?  I hadn't planned to use it tonight."

"Then why bring it?  Take me home."

"What if I threw it away?  Then I wouldn't have it anymore and you could go back to liking me."

She shook her head.  "Take me home right now.  Do you want me to scream?"

No.  I took her straight home.  She slammed my car door closed.  Psycho.

Don't Picture This

Submitted by Kristen:

Gareth came across as nice and normal, although what he didn't mention until the date itself was that he liked taking pictures of everything.  Everything.  He must have snapped a dozen of me on his little silver model before a word came out of his mouth.

"Hi, I'm Gareth.  Don't worry about my little baby here," he patted his camera, "You'll just get used to her.  Everyone does!"

He pointed his camera to the sky and took several pictures of it.  I asked him why he had brought his camera along, and he said that he was doing a project in which he was chronicling every aspect of his life for posterity.

At the restaurant, he took pictures of the tables, chairs, glasses of water, glass of beer he ordered himself, and the waiter.

I asked him if he'd put the camera away so that we could, you know, talk a little, and he said that he already knew enough about me from talking to me beforehand to know that he liked me and that I'd probably be tolerant of his "little obsession."  Hmmm.  No.

He snapped a picture of a family at a nearby table and the man, who I'm guessing was the father, put his napkin down and approached us.

He asked Gareth what he was doing and why he was taking pictures of his family.  Gareth rolled his eyes and said that he was asked that question all the time.  He explained to the man that he was doing an art project, chronicling his life for the future.

The man then asked Gareth what his (the man's) family had to do with Gareth's life chronicle.  Gareth explained that since he had encountered them in his life, they were now part of it.

Gareth then snapped a picture of the man, who went on to say that he didn't want Gareth taking more pictures of himself of his family.  Gareth agreed not to, and the man went back to his table.

As he was heading back, Gareth snapped a picture of him.  The man turned and swept back to our table.

"What did I just say?  Are you fucking retarded?  Give me the camera!"

"Sir, as you're part of my life, I had to take a picture–"

"Give me the fucking camera.  You think I'm playing around, boy?"

Gareth reached into his pocket and handed the man the camera.  The man did a search on it and turned to Gareth after a minute.  "There aren't any pictures on here."

Gareth took the camera back and cried, "I took... no!  Where'd they go?  You deleted them all!"

The man said, "Well, just don't take anymore," and went back to his seat.

Gareth winked at me and held up his original camera quickly before setting it down.  The one he had handed the guy had been an empty duplicate.

"That kind of thing happens all the time," he said, "I have to go into the field prepared."

He snapped another picture of me.  I grabbed his camera.  Now that got him really upset.

"Stop taking pictures of me," I demanded.  He promised to stop, I gave his camera back, and he didn't take any more of me for the rest of our short date, at least, not as far as I could tell.

But Madame Is My Mistress!

Submitted by Nicole:

Sam was an interesting character.  He would end all of his statements to me with "madame," or "my mistress."  At first it was endearing.  Then it became annoying.

I should have realized that there was going to be trouble even before dinner.  He offered to take my coat and pull out my chair.  I thanked him and told him that I could do those myself.  He said, "I must insist, my mistress," and took off my coat and pulled out my chair.

He reached across the table, breathed on my silverware, and wiped each one off with his napkin.  "Your silverware is cleansed, madame," he said, and smiled at me.

"Thanks," I replied.

He ordered a bottle of wine, insisted on pouring me some, and then asked me to "mirror his sips."  Is that something that's normally done?  He said that I shouldn't drink until he drank, and then, only drink as much as he did.  I hadn't heard of the practice before, and I can't say that I was really into trying it, and I told him so.

He said, "Suit yourself, madame."

When the waiter came by for our order, Sam ordered first, then turned to me.  "And for you, my mistress?"

The waiter turned to me, but Sam wasn't finished.  He said to the waiter, "Just so that you understand, she is not really my mistress.  This is merely a game we play," and then winked at me.

I ordered salmon and Sam cringed as the waiter took our menus.  "Fish hardly befits you, madame," he said.

I desperately wanted to ask him to stop ending each sentence with "madame" and "my mistress," but I kept my cool.

Towards the end of dinner, he asked, "Would you like dessert, my mistress?"

I said, "Your mistress would like the check, good sir."

He leaned in uncomfortably close and said, "Mistress doesn't pay the check.  Mistress never pays the check.  Mistress was always here.  Always will be."

He sat back in his seat, giving me an impish grin.  I was so creeped out by this guy, I had to call him on something.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked.

He said, "Language, mistress!  Such words do not befit–"

"And stop calling me 'mistress'!  Nicole will do."

Very calmly, he said, "If mistress continues to misbehave, then mistress will feel my wrath."

I stared at him, then stood up, said, "I'm going to go," and went.  A "sir" of his stature wouldn't leave a restaurant without paying a check, and so he remained there.

I received about fifty text messages from him before he figured out that "mistress" was done with him.

Date Date Revolution

So someone found herself unable to resist contacting me via a particular dating website's chat function.

AlexBabe197: hi
Me: Hi!
AlexBabe197: wat u doin?*

*Interlude: English. Try it. Talk like an adult and you'll be treated like one. Talk like Hannah Montana and I'll shoot you.

Me: Well, I finished the fourth draft of my thesis and I have an audition to do voicework for a cartoon today.
AlexBabe197: lol u didnt do that
Me: Sure I did. I have ambition. Don't you?
AlexBabe197: yea lol
Me: Why are you LOL-ing? What was funny about what I just said?
AlexBabe197: lol*

*Interlude: Spell it out, shit-wit. An Internet abbreviation might be permissible once in a while, but you're supposed to be a girl trying to impress me. What sort of intellect do you have if most of your vocabulary is made up of three-letter epitaphs?

Me: Your profile said you were 26. How old are you, really? 13 or so?
AlexBabe197: lol 26 u?
Me: It's on my profile. Did you read it?
AlexBabe197: yea im checkin it
AlexBabe197: ur cute*

*Interlude: Okay. So she's dumb as a sack of cheddar, but she has good taste.

Me: Thank you. Where in the city do you live?
AlexBabe197: huh?*

*Interlude: Plans are made, and we meet up.

I approach the rather attractive Alexandra in front of Ollie's restaurant on Broadway. She's wearing a fuzzy blue coat and has a matching blue cap. Her burnt sienna hair is pulled back and her lips are full and awfully kissable.

"Hi Alexandra. It's nice to meet you."

She cocks her head. "Do I know you?"

"We arranged to meet here yesterday. Remember?"

"No."

Internal monologue kicks in: Gosh, she's as dumb as a box of nails, but look at those lips. Boxes of nails don't have lips like that.

"Well, I'm here.  And you're here.  To meet me, if I recall."

She stares, then her eyes light up.  "You're the guy from the dating site!" she yells out loud enough for people in King of Prussia, PA to hear.

Some passerbys applaud.  One shouts, "Woo, go dude from the dating site!  Home run, baby!"

Alexandra grabs my wrist.  "McDonald's?"

I say, "How about somewhere slightly more upscale?  At least a Wendy's."

"Ooh!  Okay."

"I'm kidding.  How about an Indian or Thai place?"

She shudders.  "I don't like ethnic stuff."

"Okay.  Wendy's then?"

She nods super fast, and so I take her out to a date at Wendy's.

I pay the check ("No, no thank you is required, Alexandra, I–wait. You DIDN'T thank me. Oh yes. That's right."), and walk out onto the street.

"How did you enjoy it?"

"I don't like Wendy's."

"But you really seemed to want to go.  And you seemed to enjoy your three burgers."

"I–"

"And two milkshakes."

She scratches her nose.  "I decided three-quarters of the way through that I didn't like it anymore."

"Oh."

She shrugs.  "I like McDonald's.  I like their chicken there.  And their hamburgers.  Can we go to one now?"

"No."

"Oh."

The date ended shortly thereafter without much fanfare.

EPILOGUE:

AlexBabe197: hi
Me: Hi Alexandra.
AlexBabe197: i had a gud time wit u

Coffee Shop Catastrophe

Submitted by Roy:

Kim and I made plans to meet up at a small coffee place and then do dinner, if things seemed to go well.  Over the phone, I was very specific: "I'm wearing a brown shirt.  Meet you inside the place."

Fifteen minutes after our arranged meeting time, she wasn't inside.  I called her phone.  No answer.  I waited five minutes, called her phone again.

"Hey, what's up?" she asked.

I replied, "I'm inside.  Are you on your way?"

Silence.  Then, "Inside?  You're–oh!  I'm meeting you inside?  I've been rocking out in my car."

Maybe I hadn't been clear enough, but no matter.  Mistakes happen, and bottom line, she ended up inside with me.  I went up with her to the counter, intending to pay for whatever she wanted.

It was our turn in line, and the barista asked us what we wanted.  I turned to Kim, who instructed me to go first.  I did, then turned back to her.

She sort of crumpled slightly and said that she didn't do well under pressure.  I suggested that I order something for her to see if she'd like it, and she shook her head.  "Well, what do you want, then?" I asked.

She shook her head again without answering, like she was a 6-year-old.  I turned back to the barista and paid for my drink, then sat down with Kim.

"If you want something, then let me know," I said.

She frowned at me and said, "You didn't give me a chance up there.  I do want something."

I definitely recall asking her what she wanted, and her response being that she didn't do well with pressure.  So I said, "Now that we're not on line anymore and there's less pressure, what can I get you?"

She hissed, "Don't you patronize me!  I'll walk out of here so fast–"

"I wasn't patronizing you!  I just want to get you something if you're thirsty.  What can I get you?"

She stood up.  "Goodbye," she said, and walked out.

Did I do something wrong here?  Or was she a bona fide Brazil nut?