I Just Learned Words

E-mail Submitted by Steve:

I like the pic of you playing the piano. How long have you and what do you like to play?

I'm into musicians. Do you ever perform? Once I had two musicians (guys) sexually at the same time, lol. I play electric guitar. I also like piercings, are you pierced at all??

I like jokes: what did the monster say to the duck? Fuckduck, fuckduck, lol.

Clara

Portrait of a Jerk

Story Submitted by Melissa:

Justin was one of my fellow students in a painting class. He was very talented and I was both surprised and flattered when he asked to paint my portrait. I hadn't been in a relationship for a while, but I unexpectedly saw him differently from how I had seen most other guys. We flirted and he ended up taking me out to dinner.

We talked a lot about the class, art in general, and each other. Finally, he brought up the portrait.

"I see it as a nude," he said.

"I'm no model," I told him, "I just paint."

He begged, pleaded, and beseeched. I asked him why it couldn't be a portrait of me clothed. "You thought I was pretty enough with my clothes on to ask me in the first place," I reminded him, "So I don't think it'll matter."

He kept asking me, but I wouldn't budge. He became belligerent and said, "Anyone in the class would probably beg me to paint them."

I replied, "Then get someone else from class."

He said, "What if I painted your face but used someone else's body?"

"I don't think I'd be okay with that. Unless you made it clear in the title."

He became silent after that and it made the rest of dinner pretty awkward. I was uncomfortable enough with him possibly picturing me nude. We had planned to stop at the classroom to do some late-night painting, but something told me that that would've been a bad idea.

"We're not going to the studio?" he asked me after dinner.

I lied and said that I was tired. He asked me what my problem was, and I told him that I had been up since six in the morning. He let me go, and I was happy to be away.

The next day, in class, wouldn't you know it, but my most recent canvas went missing. It was a still life of glass objects. I asked around, and the instructor didn't know where it was.

Justin took me aside and said that he "knew who took it" and that he could "get it back" for me if I agreed to pose nude for him.

I told the instructor, and she called Justin aside. Whatever the instructor said must have struck fear into Justin's heart, because shortly thereafter, my canvas miraculously appeared and Justin would barely even look at me again.

If You Give a Man a Hug

Story Submitted by Agnes:

Alfred gave me a big hug when we met in person.  It was unexpected (and a little too familiar for a first date) but I thought he was just being super-friendly.

During dinner, we were on the topic of volunteer work I'd done for three local charities when he stood up, walked over to my side of the table, and gave me another hug.  He said, "What you did was beautiful."

I thanked him, then asked him if he wouldn't mind not hugging me anymore.  He let go of me and went back to his seat.  "Sorry," he said, "I'm a hugger.  I like connecting with people."

I told him that I appreciated that, but that it was a little soon to be hugging.  Just a comfort-level thing, was all.

He asked, "Am I allowed to keep talking to you, or is that also too far for a first date?"

Was he really going to play this?  Things had been going well up until that point.  I said, "We can talk, Alfred.  Just less physical stuff."

"I'm not raping you.  It's just a hug.  Most women would kill for a compassionate guy."

"I know you're compassionate, Alfred."

"More compassionate than you, I'd bet."

I steered the conversation away from this, mentally noting that I didn't want to see him again.  After dinner, we took a short walk outside and he said, "I'd take your hand, but I can't have you screaming 'rape' on me."

I didn't say anything to that, and he followed up with, "I guess by your silence that you would scream rape if I held your hand.  That's not normal, Agnes."

I stopped walking and asked him if he wanted to end the date.  He turned it around and asked me if I wanted to.  I hesitated in thought for a moment, then told him that I did.  Not thinking, I put my hand out to him for him to shake.  He jumped back.

"You're trying to trick me into touching you!  I'm wise to your tricks.  No way.  I'd rather hug a slopper."

I likely misheard him, but that's what it sounded like he said.  I put my hand down, said good night, and we went our separate ways.  I wish him luck in finding someone who'll tolerate his antics.

Male Snow-vinist

Story Submitted by Ed:

Lisa and I met in the dead of winter. I offered to take her out for hot chocolate, and so we met.

It was during a light chat at a cafe that I had the idea to go outside and make a snowman. Her eyes lit up at the idea, and so we finished our drinks and went outside.

At first we were laughing and throwing snow and having a great time. We rolled the first big ball and assembled the second one, to be placed on top of the first.

Once the second ball was placed, I started packing snow for the third and final ball when she asked me, "What are you doing?"

I told her that I was making the snowman's head. She pointed to the top ball of the two-ball structure we had built and said, "This is its head."

I asked, "Don't snowmen usually have three levels to them?"

She said, "Would you mind calling it a 'snowperson'? 'Snowman' is sexist."

"Are you kidding me?" I asked, but that was the wrong thing to ask.

She stamped a foot into the snow and said, "I take it very seriously. Call it a snowperson or I'm leaving."

I was almost positive that she was joking, so I played along. I said, "Fine, but if I call it a snowperson, then I think we should add a third and final ball for the head."

"That will look weird," she said, "But whatever."

We rolled a third ball and placed it atop the prior two. It looked good, and it just needed arms and a face. Not thinking, I said, "He looks good."

She snapped, "What makes it a 'he'?"

"Okay, she looks good."

"What makes it a 'she'?"

I asked, "Do you think we could just have fun? You know, without worrying about the gender of an imaginary creature?"

She said, "I told you that I take gender stereotypes seriously, and this snowperson isn't imaginary. It's standing right here. It's real."

"Do you want to help me make this snowperson's face?"

"Yes."

"And while we're being politically correct, should we give it boobs? Or just one, in the spirit of gender equality?"

She gave me an awful face and said, "If you're going to oppress my beliefs, then I'm going to go."

I said, "Let's just make his face."

"Whose face?"

"Her face."

She groaned. I laughed. She said, "You still don't get it! Thousands of years of oppression isn't funny, Ed!"

I agreed with her for the sake of smoothing things over long enough to put a face on our snowman. We found some sticks to use as arms, and he looked pretty damn good.

By that point, I was tired of her and ended the date shortly afterward. I wrote her a day or two later to tell her that I just wanted to be friends, and she never responded.

Sometimes It's Okay to Mince Words

E-mail Submitted by Georgia:

Hi!

I'm a typical guy looking for a serious, special relationship. I'd like fidelity, good communication, love (duh) and lots and lots of bjs.

You're a cut above a lot of the women on this site, and I wanted to let you know that I exist. I love trying new things, getting down into the city, but also exploring the countryside. I'm never lacking ideas of things to do. What do you like to do most in the city?

Hope to hear from you!!!

Daniel

Whyfore Does the Groom Shift So Uncomfortably?

Story Submitted by Thom:

A couple years ago, a friend of mine was having a large party to ring in the beginning of the semester. I agreed to go, despite hating large parties with lots of drinking involved. I was surprised to meet a very attractive young man there named Ryan who was completely sober and standing by himself.

I introduced myself and we spent a few hours talking about a million things, but ended on films. We had very similar tastes in entertainment so I was surprised when he hadn’t seen my favorite movie of all time. I innocently (no, really!) invited him back to my place to check out the movie and get away from the drunk crowd.

We arrived at my place and I threw together some food and for at least an hour we enjoyed the movie while snacking, making jokes, and "accidentally" scooting closer to each other. Ryan was very charming and I’d already found myself completely smitten with him. But as much as I wanted to allow it, when he tried to get kissy with me, I asked him to stop.

I explained to him that I wanted to get to know him better before being intimate in any way, and he was kind enough to respect that. We finished the movie, exchanged information, and parted ways, but not before setting up a real date.

The following morning I went to my sister’s house to tell her all about Ryan. As I described him she began to get that I-know-him look and asked me a few questions. Sure enough, my sister did know him. He fit the description of the Ryan she’d been dating for the last few weeks, right down to the phone number.

She confronted him, but whatever he said must have worked because they announced their engagement last week. My parents are both urging me to tell this story at the wedding, or to at least offer to go on the honeymoon.

And My Brain Is from Target

E-mail Submitted by Rosie:

Ah you're Welsh I'm 0% Welsh but I like Welsh women. I've always wanted to visit Welshland. Have you ever visited your home country?

I'm from Spain and England. Not my body. My blood is. Do you see a male doctor or female doctor when you go to the doctor? Serious question why. Did you should read my profile. I read yours and I like it you're Welsh.

I've heard good things about Welsh women. I have a lot of faith that we'd get along. Anyone ever call you Welshie? You said a nickname in your profile but Welshie is better.

Do you like Welsh's tomato paste? Haha no Welsh's makes grape jelly. Sorry if I say too much about you being Welsh but I hope you're as glad of your heritage. I am.

Let me know if or WHEN you want to meet or I guess learn more about me.

Admiringly,
Jack

*******************************
Rosie says: "No clue what he was talking about. I'm not Welsh."

But She's Always a Woman to Me

Story Submitted by Ed:

Lisa and I were going to visit a coffee shop and take a walk for our first date.  She asked me if we had time to stop in a pharmacy because she needed some batteries.  We definitely had time, and I told her we'd do it.

At coffee, she took two calls, which I felt was a little rude.  Also, she didn't thank me for paying for her coffee.  I became a bit more anxious to finish up the date, and when I suggested that we go to grab her batteries, she agreed to the idea.

Inside the pharmacy, she found the batteries she was looking for, but she also discovered a section of those greeting cards that talk when you open them.  Of course, she had to open every one and hear what they all had to say.  Also, when she was done with each, she'd just drop it on the floor and not even replace it on the shelf.

I told her, "Maybe you should not drop those on the floor."

She replied, "You're not my daddy-kins!"

I wasn't anybody's "daddy-kins," but I knew crappy behavior when I saw it.  When she made it to the end of the greeting cards, she found her way to the office supplies, opened a pack of note cards and a box of crayons, drew a green squiggle on one of the note cards, and dropped them all on the ground.

She asked me, "Ready to go?"

I was ready, all right.  I couldn't wait to be done with this humiliating date.  Once we were outside, I told her that I was probably going to go.  She buried her face into my chest and sucked her thumb.  I asked her to stop and she did.  We then parted ways.

Love Knows No Embargoes

E-mail Submitted by Victoria:

Hi

My name is Hami and will be glad to talk to you and know you much if you don't mind and although you are very busy but I will feel honor if you share a bit of your precious time with your lover. 

With Regards
Hami

**********************************
Victoria says: "Because I thought he was hilarious and wanted to see what he would say, I asked simply how he was. This is the response he sent:"
**********************************

Hi honey

I am fine, thanks and you?  I have always time to talk with you my dear and will be glad to hear from you too.  I am a 28 years old single guy with no dates, I don't want to marry an Iranian lady and my parents eagerly encourage me to immigrate to US and marry an American lady because they are more intellectual and they have less expectations than Iranian ladies and they are more faithful to life than Iranian ladies.  You are exactly the one I am looking for and I believe we can get along well together. 

You are very beautiful and I love you very much because you might think bad things about me but be sure I am not from those guys to flirt with girls or to play games with them and all I want is to have a happy life together and since I am honest I wrote you everything about myself and I am happy and humorous too.

I saw your profile and got interested in you very much.

With love and Regards
Hami

What Lies Underneath

Story Submitted by Carrie:

It was my second date with Mark and he had agreed to pick me up at my house.  Our first date had gone well, and I liked him.  He showed up early and I told him to make himself at home in the living room while I finished blow-drying my hair in the bathroom.

When I was done, I returned to the living room.  He wasn't there.  Was he in the bathroom?  Nope.  I looked in the kitchen, too.  Where was he?  I called for him.  No answer.  I looked in the living room again. No sign of him.

I heard the sound of a door closing in the direction of my bedroom.  Then, the sound of fast footsteps and the bathroom door closing.  I went to the bathroom and asked Mark if he was okay.  He said he was and asked for a minute to finish up in the bathroom.

I waited for him in the living room, and he returned from the bathroom with a smile.  All was set for our second date.

It went all right.  Mark was a bit more self-involved and arrogant this time around, and I found myself looking forward to the end of the evening.

He dropped me off and I changed for bed and found that he had rifled through my underwear drawer.  No doubt about it.  In fact, one of my favorite pairs was missing.

I remembered hearing what sounded like him going from my room to the bathroom earlier that evening, and so I called him up and asked him, "Hey, just curious, did anything that belongs in my bedroom somehow end up with you?"  I was sure to ask it that way to give him a way out of confessing outright.  I wanted my underwear back, but I felt that embarrassing him would've been a mistake.

He paused before responding, "Yeah.  I can give them back tomorrow."

I said, "Can you get them back to me tonight?"

He said, "I'm wearing them."

I was shocked into silence.  He went on, "I'll put them in the wash and bring them over tomorrow."

I was quiet for so long that he asked, "Hello?"

I said, "You're wearing them?  What the fuck?"

He replied, "Yeah.  I'll bring them back tomorrow.  Washed and dried."

I had nothing to say beyond, "Okay."

He returned them crumpled in a ball inside of a plastic grocery bag on my porch.  I washed them three times before I felt comfortable wearing them again.  Of course, Mark and I never went out on another date.

Eternal Sunshine of the... I Forget

Story Submitted by Tim:

Carol was a college girlfriend.  We had been dating for a couple of months when she called things off, but she said that she wanted to stay friends.  I was disappointed, but wasn't too hung up on it.

One night, we were out with a group of friends, drank a fair amount, and ended up hooking up in her bedroom.  We fell asleep, but she woke sometime after two to ask me if I'd leave.  I left.

She called me the next day with a strange request.  "Last night wasn't supposed to happen.  We've got to undo it."

I asked her how she proposed to do that.  She said, "I felt filthy every time you touched me.  I want that out of my head as fast as possible.  There has to be a way to undo it."

Way to make a guy feel good.  We hooked up.  It happens.  I told her that I'd stop talking to her or spending time with her if that would make it better.  She agreed that it was a good idea, but that it still "didn't undo last night."

I said, "I don't know what to tell you.  I don't think you can undo the past."

"I can," she said, and hung up.

I didn't see her again for a while.  Later in the semester when I did, at a party before finals, she introduced herself to me as if she had never met me before.  She also had a new boyfriend.

I didn't want to make things awkward, but the fact that she pretended as if she had never met me before really creeped me out.  She even asked me things that I know she already knew about me.

I was tempted to ask her certain questions that I couldn't have otherwise known, but decided to play along, if that's how she wanted it.  What was weird was that she dropped in a lot of lines like, "Have we ever met before?" or "I feel like I've known you for a while."

At the end of the party, she asked me if she could give me her e-mail address and I quoted it to her (as I already knew it).  I then asked her, as her boyfriend was elsewhere, why she was pretending to not know me.  I said, "We have history, but we can still be friendly, can't we?"

She said, "I'm sorry.  I have no idea what you're talking about."

I stayed out of touch with her after that, which was probably her plan all along.  Still, the fact that she never broke character was a chilling experience that I've never forgotten.

Why Wouldn't I Write Back?

E-mail Submitted by Jess:

My last girlfriend broke up with me in a swimming pool.  We were at a party and all kinda drunk and she was in a bikini and she walked up to me with some other guy and said meet my new boyfriend and then later at the party I saw them making out in the grass.

I went over and stomped on them and they got really p'd off and the guy hit me a couple of times and I tore at his face and got in trouble and the party was over and then I was in bed somehow.

I might be drunk and writing this but I had no one else to talk about it to.  It's one a.m. and I just wanted to talk to someone and saw that you were online and thought that we could talk.  I tried messaging you but it is blocked for some reason.  aight peace.

Robert

I Slept Through Second Grade Science

Story Submitted by Sy:

Moira and I had planned to meet at 6:30pm. At 6:00, she called to inform me that she'd be a little late. At 6:25, I was already at the restaurant and she called to tell me that she'd be later still. I sat down, ordered a basket of bread, and waited for her.

She showed up around 6:50, her long hair very wet. She apologized and told me that she had overslept a nap. I told her that it wasn't a problem and that I would have been fine waiting if she had wanted to take the time to dry her hair.  She said she'd be all right, and so the date commenced.

Dinner was awkward, as she kept running her fingers through her hair to "make it dry faster," as she put it.  It was distracting,, but not half as distracting as the fact that she chewed with her mouth open.  I didn't want to be impolite, but I couldn't keep looking at her chewings, so I looked away when she spoke as much as I could.

When dinner was over, I asked her if she was ready to go.  She asked, "Can we wait for my hair to dry a bit more?  I don't think they'll kick us out."

I didn't have a problem with that.  She wasn't good at conversation and didn't seem very interested in me, so it became a series of questions on my part and short, terse answers on hers.  All the while, I willed her hair to become dry enough for us to leave.

I decided to talk about myself after a while, because I had run out of things to ask her.  I gave her a quick version of what I was all about, and she asked me nothing, although she played with her hair continually.

At the end of my four-minute life story, I asked her if she was ready to go.  She stood up and said that she had an idea.  She left for the bathroom.

When she came back, her hair looked even wetter.  "I rubbed some hot water in," she explained, "I think it evaporates faster."

I didn't think that was how the water cycle worked, and I told her so.  She said, "I'm not keeping you here."

I tried speaking to her for a few more minutes.  At one point she shook her hair, like a dog, and sprayed droplets all over me.  She apologized, but I was done.  I stood and told her that I was going to go, and she wished me a good night.

She e-mailed me to say that she had a good time and offered to friend me on Facebook.  I wrote her back to thank her and to decline the offer.

Sublimity Indeed

E-mail Submitted by Jane:

You are a beautiful woman.  That is plain.  But what lies beneath the wrapping paper?  Turns out a beautiful interior as well!  You have striking features and a striking personality.  Consider me smitten, madamme!

I have written poetry about those I've loved before, but you would give me pause---would poetry be worthy of a bird such as yourself?  Ah!  The power 'o woman!  Alas me!

I agree with what you say about how important it is to take time every day to do something you love.  What a more peaceful, glorious planet we would be living on if even half took your sage advice!  What were you up to in Los Angeles?  Being yourself and spreading the beauty around, no doubt!

I can't wait to hear from you.  You inspire me greatly, deeply, and fully.  I do hope to read your words soon, which no doubt will swell with sublimity.

I wrote all of the above whilst sitting on the toilet.

Peter

Dog Date Afternoon

E-mail Submitted by Cleveland:

I study Karate too.  Which school?  Bet I could kick your ass!

You remind me of a student I used to have (Im a teacher too).  Do you like dogs?  I have two which is why I'm asking.  They are a huge part of my life and I'll have to teach you how to take care of them both.  They come with me on every vacation so if you don't like it get used to it, bucko! j/k. 

(Wait I was kidding about the bucko thing, not about the dogs.  They do come along with me on vacations, trips to the folks, etc.  They are seriously a big deal to me.  One is eight the other three, Julian and Augustus are their names.  Why not Julius?  Julius was murdered and if anyone tried to murder my dog I would murder them first probably but just to be safe I named him Julian.  No)

I can send you pictures of me with my dogs if you want to see more but there are already plenty on the profile.

Jodie

Stolen Guitar, Stolen Heart

Story Submitted by Ruth:

Ben and I got to know each other online.  Among his talents, he was a guitar player.  I asked him if I could hear him play at some point, and he told me that he would.

Unexpectedly, he brought his guitar with him on the date.  Surprising, yes, but not unwelcome.  It was a little awkward at dinner, but the restaurant had a coat room, where they let him put it.

Our plans had been dinner, then a concert, but Ben had a revision in mind: "Let's hit up the concert for a little while, then I'll give you a private concert afterward."

I liked him and had been looking forward to hearing him play, so I agreed to his idea.  Dinner went great, and at the concert venue (a small place) afterward, he put his guitar in another coat room.

We had been at the concert for a couple of hours when he asked me if I was ready to go.  I was, and we went to recover our coats and his guitar.

His guitar wasn't there.

He panicked, and we asked the managers and doormen if they had seen someone leaving with the instrument.  Needless to say, they weren't much help, except to remind us that they weren't responsible.

Ben asked some nearby patrons if they had seen anything, and while he did, an idea struck me.  I suggested to Ben that he inform the band, in between one of their songs.  Perhaps they'd make an announcement and help out a fellow musician?

He liked that idea, and after their song ended, he fought his way to the front and spoke to one of the bouncers alongside the stage.  The bouncer spoke to the singer, and she announced over the microphone that Ben's guitar had been stolen.

"Not cool for a musician to steal from another musician," she said, "Because we will write a song about how much you've pissed us off."

Ben shouted something and she listened to him, then went on, over the microphone, "But if you or someone you know took it, return it to the coat room, and no questions asked."

I don't know if the thief was still there or if a friend of theirs reached out, but whatever it was, an hour later, a doorman came up to Ben with the guitar, claiming that a kid had handed it in.  I didn't expect us to recover it, and Ben was overjoyed.  The band was in the middle of a song, so Ben told the bouncer to give a message to them that the instrument was recovered.

He brought me back to his place to give me a short personal concert.  He played me three songs, and when he was done, I asked him, "Why did you bring the guitar out with you if we were going to come back here to hear you play it?"

He said, "In case you didn't feel comfortable coming back here.  I would've played it out somewhere."

I said, "You could've asked.  I would've been fine coming back here."

Then he kissed me.  We're still together.

Music Lessons

Story Submitted by Larry:

I was in college and met Stacy in my music program.  She was a singer, and I played a few instruments, so we'd meet up to practice together.  Late night practices became late night drinking and make-out sessions, and I felt as though we had something special.  She told me that she wasn't ready for sex, and I respected her boundaries.

Apparently, word of my music-playing spread, and a few other students, men and women, asked me if I'd practice with them.  I was there to study and perform, and I saw no problem with helping other people.  Regardless, my thoughts and heart were always with Stacy.

One evening, after I had helped Amanda, another young woman, with her singing, Stacy called to ask me if I'd meet her in a basement practice room.  Of course, I was up for it.  I brought my violin and met her there.

Once inside, she asked, "Where were you?  Off with some slut?"

I assured Stacy that she was the only one I was seeing.  She grabbed at my violin case but I held it tight.  "Let go!" she screamed, "I have to teach you a lesson!"

I ripped it away from her and made for the door.  I didn't know if she followed me out, but I made it back to my room without incident.

The next day, an apology e-mail arrived from her and she asked me if I wanted to meet for lunch or dinner.  I was busy at lunchtime, but dinner worked, and I told her so.  I guessed that she was planning to apologize for her previous night's behavior.

At dinner, though, we sat down and she said, "I'm ready to accept your apology.  For spending so much time with those other girls and for sleeping with them."

I said, "I'm helping them practice.  I'm not sleeping with anyone."

"You're such a fucking liar.  I heard that you fuck them."

"From who?"

"It doesn't matter."

I said, "Of course it does.  Are you going to believe me?  Or whoever you say told you these lies?"

She muttered, "I'll show you," and stormed off, right there.  I didn't follow her, which, looking back, might have been stupid.

The next morning, I received a phone call before my first class.  One of my friends told me that Stacy had posted hundreds of black-and-white flyers of me all over the classroom building accompanied by the words, "I'll fuck anybody!"

Thankfully, because I had a good amount of friends, they were all taken down by the time I had made it to class.  Somehow or other, everyone knew that Stacy had put them up, and it was pretty clear that she was going to be in some trouble.

She was placed on probation, sent me a few "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU" texts, and I thought that the whole thing would blow over.  Of course, I had no intent to see her ever again.

Then, a night or two later, I caught her trying to break into my room while I was inside it.  I held the door against her (she had somehow managed to break off the doorknob), called campus security, and they arrived shortly thereafter to escort her away.

She was suspended for a semester, and as things turned out, I did end up sleeping with someone else who I met through the practice program.  What's sad is that if Stacy didn't behave the way she did, I wouldn't have slept with anyone else.

They Teach Etiquette at Your College?

E-mail Submitted by Anne:

It's taken me a long time to jump on the online dating bandwagon but here I am!  Time to see what I've been missing *readies surfboard, jumps in*

I'm Cliff and I teach technology at a technical college.  My students are great and I love working with them.  The administration fucking sucks a fat one, but what are you going to do?  Overworked, underpaid, am I right?  Or am I right?

Your profile was very attractive to me and I'd like to get to know you further.  You say that you like architecture, rock climbing and biking.  I love architecture (pyramids are incredible), climbing (ever done a rock wall?) and biking (I love biking too!).

So what happens now?  Do we meet?  Do we exchange more messages?  When's sex??? just joking, but seriously, I'd like to know when I can expect it.

So again, I love architecture (and maybe architects too!) climbing shit, and biking.  All fun.  So what now?

Talk soon,
Cliff

Don't Let Dad Screen Your Dates

Story Submitted by John:

Dina and I met online.  She was 30, in grad school part time, studying psychology, and also worked for her college.  We chatted for a week or so, and it went well enough for me to ask her if she wanted to meet in person – something informal, over a drink, coffee, etc.

I didn't hear from her for a week, and during that time, I assumed that she might have had second thoughts.  Not a problem.  Sadly, I was used to such things.  But then, she wrote me back with a single question:

"What's your number?"

I gave it to her, and asked her in the message if everything was all right.

My phone rang that evening, and who was it on the phone but Dina's father.

"I just want to ask you a couple of questions," he said, "My daughter's still new at Internet relations.  First, what do you do for a living, and what is your living situation?"

I've never experienced such a thing before, but figured that everyone does the dating thing a little differently.  I answered him, "I work in real estate and I have my own place."

He asked, "What attracted you to my daughter?"

I said, "Her personality, how active she is, and I think she's attractive.  She has also had a lot of interesting experiences."

He asked, "And how much would you say you make a year?"

I said, "I'd rather not discuss my income."

"I'm sorry?"

"I'd rather not discuss my income, if that's all right."

He said, "I'm not going to mince words, young man.  If you think you're going to insert yourself into my daughter without her having a solid background in exactly who you are, then I'm afraid you're not going to be meeting her."

I didn't say anything.  He asked, "How much did you say you make a year?"

I said, "I didn't," and hung up.

Never heard from either of those crazies again.

An X Chromosome?

E-mail Submitted by Carlos:

Hi you look like quite an athlete!  I also play sports like tennis, soccer, and softball.  How long have you played (anything?)?

I have something that was given to me by my father and it's so sacred and precious to me.  It made me who I am but I can't tell you what it is.  I know that if I show it to you you'll agree that it is life changing.  I just can't tell you what it is over e-mail.  Just know that it's important.

My life I can say I've lived in such a way that I've had way more experiences than people twice/three/four times my age.  I've been through so much but still I made it through somehow.  I'm writing a book about it and everyone will read it someday.

I like to go out and enjoy everything life has to offer, to go out in joy and LIVE!!!!!   If you like life you should e-mail me too.  If you don't write back, enjoy death.

yours,
Samantha

Glower Among the Flowers

Story Submitted by Gerry:

Aimee and I had already had a nice lunch, and we were walking through a small town's main street when we passed a flower shop.  She stopped and asked if we could go inside.

Once inside, she made a bee-line right for the display case with the lilies.  She stared at them and said, "I love lilies," then turned to me and repeated, "I love lilies!"

"They are beautiful," I agreed.

"Especially these," she said, then asked the shopkeeper, "How much for the lilies?"

The shopkeeper, a short girl in overalls, replied, "Five dollars a stem."

Aimee turned to me expectantly.  I said, "Get them, if you want.  Just so long as you don't mind carrying them around."

She wrinkled her face and said, "Eww," at me, then turned to the shopkeeper and said, "We might be back."

We left the store and Aimee was clearly upset.  I asked her, "Do you want to get some coffee?  Dessert?  Take a walk by a nearby stream?  Hit up the arcade?"

She turned to me, clenched fists, and yelled, "I want those lilies, damn it!"

I yelled back, "So go get them!"

She rolled her eyes, turned away, and said, "Never mind.  You're an idiot."

I knew, of course, that she wanted me to buy them for her, but, not being an idiot, I wasn't about to spend more money than I already had on lunch for the two of us.

She was walking away, but I caught up with her and said, "Aimee, I'll make you a deal.  I'll buy you a dozen of those lilies."

She frowned and asked, "For what in exchange?"

I said, "There's a video game that I've wanted to play, and there's an electronics store nearby.  You buy me the game, I'll buy you the lilies."

She said, "That's stupid.  Video games are like, sixty dollars."

I replied, "So are a dozen lilies."

"No they're not."

I reminded her, "They were five dollars each.  Twelve would be sixty."

Again, she rolled her eyes and said, "That's a stupid idea," and walked away and said, "Whatever.  Forget this."

I wasn't sure if the date was still going on, because of her dismissive tone.  So it could be that she had expected to continue spending the afternoon with me despite the lily incident.  However, I don't know why, but at that moment, I took it to mean that the date was over, and I walked away.  Never did hear from poor, sweet Aimee again.

You Can't Tell Just By Looking?

E-mail Submitted by Josie:

Hello dear--I send this to certain women who I'm sure of.  I want a lady who I can hug and habe me be able to link my hands together around her back because you know why.  My last two girlfriends they when I hugged them my hands couldn't join around.  It wa slike hugging a beach balls!  AAAA.

I want to hug someone completely and see if we would be as good together.  Nothing wrong wiht this I promise that I will not hug you with boner.  Just to see if my hands link!

Thank you and godbless..!

Lyle

But Honey, I Thought That Filth Impressed You

Story Submitted by Sandra:

Kenneth and I met at work and had been dating for a couple of months when he invited me to a party at his friend Nick’s apartment.  I had recently moved to Boston from a different country, so I was excited to get to meet new people. Kenneth mentioned we’d be able to crash there, and that sounded like a plan, considering we got off work at nine so it was bound to become a late night.

It took us two and a half hours and uncountable bus transfers to get to Nick’s. His one-bedroom apartment was appalling: moldy, soaked in cigarette stench, and messy as hell.

I collected myself, as Nick, who sat on the only chair in the room, smoking a joint and playing a video game, looked up and invited me to sit on the floor and have some of the joint. “What the hell,” I thought, considering that a cab home would have probably cost me my weekly pay-check and we had made it out on the last bus of the day, so there was really no way out. Might as well just make it through the night alive and then have a story to tell about the strange ways of Americans to my friends back home.

It didn’t take long to realize that calling the event a “party” was a bit of a stretch.  It turned out to be just the two of them playing a PlayStation game, getting baked, and eating whatever they happened to find lying on the floor. I’m not much of a stoner, and when I get high I tend to get introverted, to the grand displeasure of Nick.

He asked me many questions varying from my bra-size to my intentions with Kenneth, interrupted by curses or cries of joy related to his video game. They never even offered to let me try to play despite me asking them to give me a go. Instead, Nick criticized how “reserved and boring” I was, and always prodded me to, “Say something! Tell me a story!”

After a couple of tedious hours, Nick whispered something to Kenneth and went to the bathroom. The bathroom, from what I had seen, was so small that you would bump your knees against the wall while squatting over a toilet that no sane person would ever sit on.

So off to the bathroom Nick went and Kenneth came up to me excitedly and said “Hey, Nick agreed to spend the next half-hour in the bathroom, so...” and he gently pushed me towards the dodgy bed that was lying in the corner, covered in coats and clothes, with no sheets.

I shuddered and pushed him away.  I said, "I don't think I'm very comfortable banging you in a stranger's bed while said stranger waits for us in a one-square-meter bathroom."

It took Kenneth a while to give up and resume gaming. Later, Nick slept on the floor but swore, "I'll keep my back to you guys all night long so you can have your sexy privacy."

I did end up on the bed with Kenneth (I had to sleep, after all) and he tried to put his fingers in my pants.  I kept moving away  from him and eventually we all fell asleep.

By six I was dressed and out of there. It took me a long time to find my way home, but man, was I glad to be out.

What Goes Around May Not Come Back Around

Story Submitted by Grace:

Ray was a joker. In the middle of lunch on our first date, he went outside and came back in with a worried expression. "I think they just towed your car," he said.

I bolted from the table and ran outside. My car was still there. When I went back in, furious, he laughed, "Ha! You should've seen your face! You're so gullible."  I could have killed him, but the best was yet to come.

After lunch, we had made plans to visit a museum, and went to the subway. We waited, the train pulled in, stopped, and opened its doors.

"I'll be right back," Ray said, and suddenly ran behind a pillar. I ran after him, but he ran back around the pillar's other side and ran into the subway car.

I followed right behind him, but he turned and held up his hand, blocking my way. "Wait," he said, "I—"

The doors closed between us. I stepped back on the platform, hit the doors, Ray made a funny face at me, and the train pulled away with him on it.

I took it that Ray was ending the date. How else should I have taken it? For a minute, I came to my senses, then left the station, planning to head home.

A half-hour later, a text arrived from him. "LOL Should've seen ur face! Where r u?" I didn't reply. He texted again, "Where r u for real? I'll come back for u."

I didn't respond. He called and I let it go to voicemail. When I listened to it, it said, "Hey, I was just kidding. The look on your face was priceless! Anyway, I guess you're still down in the subway, waiting for me, so I'll head back down to the station. See you soon."

I was home before I received another call from him. This time, I picked up. "Can you help me?" I asked him, "I got on a train and must have gotten lost. I'm at Forest Park and don't have any money. Can you come get me?"

He said, "What the hell are you doing way out there? Why didn't you wait at the station for me?"

I told him, "I tried to follow you. I didn't want to lose you. Now I'm at Forest Park and don't have any money and I need you to come get me."

"I'm on my way."

He called me a little while later. "I'm at Forest Park. Where are you?"

I said, "I'm not there. You should see your face, asshole," and hung up. His further texts, calls, and messages were ignored.

No, Tarzan. That's Not How You Use the Internet.

E-mail Submitted by Sharron:

Hey u goth chick?  If u a goth chick then maybe we can hang.  Goth chicks good.

Taste great.

Charlie

A Bad Case of the Dates: Podcast #3

Are you an independent musician or band?  Want to expand your audience?

I'm looking for friendly folks who would let me use snippets of their music during future podcasts.  I'll give you full credit and link to your MySpace, homepage, whatever you want.  Let me know!  abadcaseofthedates@gmail.com.

I Can't Write Back. Legal Reasons.

E-mail Submitted by Alexander:

Dear online man:

My name is Kate.  I'm 24 and I'm studying to be a doctor.  The books you list are all, each and every one, on my shelf, and it sounds like we have a same taste in movies.  Go us!

I also love to travel, and I've moved around a lot in recent years (forced to-legal reasons) but I've been in Dallas now for a year and here I'm planning to stay, no matter what.

I'm a one-man kind of woman and I never date more than one man at a time.  It's hard enough to remember all the stupid details of one person's life, let alone three or four.  Do you have friends who date more than one person?  I don't know how they keep it straight.

I'm not sure where my family is at the moment (again-legal reasons-sorry) but I have two parents and three siblings (one of them's a famous actor!) somewhere I think in the northwest.  It's where I grew up.  Have you ever been up there?  It's beautiful and I want to go back someday.  Mt. Hood national forest outside of Portland is especially beautiful.

Well write back.  Or don't.

Kate

Why You Should Update Your Relationship Status

Story Submitted by Don:

Nicole and I met while we were in college. We began by just hanging out in my apartment, smoking pot and doing a little drinking. I was 21, she just turned 19.

Every once in a while she would get a phone call from a guy who I presumed was her boyfriend at a different college. There were times over the phone that he would say, "I love you," and she'd reply, "Aww," or "Me too," or "Uh-huh."

Finally, right before winter finals, Nicole and I hooked up. Since I didn’t get laid too much, I waited until after the hookup to bring up her boyfriend (dick move, I know).

She assured me that she made it clear to him that when they graduated high school and went to different colleges that they were done dating but still friends. She also said that he didn’t take that too well and still hoped that they could continue dating.  She vehemently claimed to be broken up and that was enough for me.

After finals, we all went home to visit family for Christmas. I found out that her family only lived about 25 minutes from mine, so we agreed to see each other at least once over the holidays.

One day over the break, she called and said, “My parents and younger sister are out shopping for a few hours. Want to come by?”

Twenty-five minutes later, I rang her doorbell.  Her father answered the door.

Nicole pulled me in and apologized profusely. She said that if I wanted to leave I could, but she would like it if I stayed to help her wrap holiday gifts.  Her family and I ended up in the living room, watching a movie when the doorbell rang.

Who was it?  The aforementioned and uninvited “ex”-boyfriend.

Now, Nicole had told me that they had broken up, but she apparently hadn't told her parents.  They welcomed him in as if he and Nicole were still together.

"This is Stan, Nicole's boyfriend," they said.

Nicole and I had been sitting and wrapping right next to each other, and Stan had to bring a chair from the kitchen so he would have a place to sit.  He kept giving me a very smoldering stare while Nicole's mom and dad kept telling me how amazing he was.

After the wrapping was complete, I thought that the situation had become awkward enough. I made an excuse to leave and went home to relay this story to my brother over a beer and have a good laugh.

Nicole and I have been together for seven years and her parents (and mine) couldn’t be happier. I still make fun of her for that night, but sometimes it’s just fun to remember how we started.

Prophet School Has Become a Bit Less Selective

E-mail Submitted by Laura:

Hey!

I read your pforile and and it reminds me of something I must have read in another life because it was so familiar to me.  I'm James and I believe that we're all fated to find the one we're supposed to be with no matter what we do.

I always knew that I was suppoed to end up with a woman with long brown hair (like yours), 5'4" (like you), one whotakes care of children (you're a teacher and nanny), one with a brother and a sister (like you say you have) one who makes pottery (like you do - love the photo btw).

Clearly we have to at least try each other out.  A little about me that's not in my profile: I like building things like tall towers, I'm a band manager for two bands, I'm sexually experienced (in both front and back) and I am VERY responsive to your mood.  I have an ability to see how you're feeling and react the perfect way.  People have told me that I always make them feel better after a sad day.  You really should give me a try.

If you reject me then know that somehow, our fates may yet intertwine.  You are so many things I'm looking for, this can't be the end before the beginning.

James

No Means Yes. Unless it Really Does Mean No.

Story Submitted by Sara:

Christmastime in college was great. Our school organized events, parties, and dances. We were small enough to make for easy logistics.

Oren was a guy who lived on my floor. Quiet, kept to himself, but always very friendly. When a twig of mistletoe appeared, hanging in our dorm's main hall, and I saw him standing near it, I approached him and kissed him on the cheek. Short, sweet, and innocent.

He started spending more time with me after that, seeking me out in my room, sitting with my friends and I at lunch. I didn't have an issue with it, but it was a bit creepy, the way he always had his eyes on me.

During finals, he asked me out for a date, and I told him that I thought of him just as a friend.

The next day, he asked me out again. I was a bit more explicit with him that time, as he had evidently not understood what I had said the day before.

He seemed to understand, then came back an hour later to ask me if I wanted to go out on a date but as friends. I told him that I'd do it if I could invite some of my own friends along. He didn't like that idea, and became more insistent.

I told him that I just wanted to be friends, left it at that, and didn't see him again until after the break.

When I returned to my room in January, I found, slipped under my door, a handmade poster. It bore a sparkled heart surrounding my name and Oren's. I threw it out in the common area trash.

The next day, it was back under my door. I notified my resident assistant, and Oren was told to keep away from me.

He wrote me an e-mail, listing reasons why he liked me and bemoaning the fact that I wouldn't give him a chance. The tone was a bit threatening, and I showed it to my RA. She said that she'd write Oren up about it, but something else happened that made the e-mail look benign.

That night, Oren sent me a YouTube video of himself sitting on his bed next to a mannequin bearing a shirt with my name on it. He touched it inappropriately, made out with it, and positioned himself on top of it on his bed.

This time around, I went above my RA and wrote to the college dean.  By afternoon the next day, Oren was relocated, the YouTube account to which the video had been posted was suspended, and he was instructed to stay away from me, under threat of harsher penalties.

He wrote to me once more, about a week later, to apologize for everything, and included a hope that we could stay friends.

No.

Lights, Camera, Moron

Story Submitted by Anne:

I've acted in several B-movies and had bit parts in some larger endeavors. Suffice it to say, I'm a struggling artist, but I love the industry and I always have a good time.

I worked once with Ned, a director who seemed to be interested in more than just a professional relationship. I had a policy to not date crewmembers (as opposed to cast) and he asked me if I'd be willing to date him once the project was over. I told him that we'd see how things went.

The next day, he gave us all new copies of the script, but with all of my character's love scenes missing (there were two). He had also cut out a lot of my dialogue, some of which was actually important to the plot. In fact, all of the cuts and changes he made concerned my character.

I took him aside to ask him about it, and he said that he felt it made the script move faster. I informed him that a few things later on in the script wouldn't make much sense, but he swept these concerns under the rug.

We filmed the rest of the movie, and the day we wrapped production, he asked me out. I felt as though our artistic differences were too great for a relationship, but I didn't see the harm in going for a drink.

He drank quite a bit while we were out and confessed to me that he cut the love scenes between myself and the actor because he didn't want to see me making love to another guy.

When I told Ned that the actor and I had hooked up anyway, off set, he flew into a rage and chased me out of the bar.

I didn't ever have to see him again, but he owed me a paycheck. I called him a month later and he said he'd get back to me.

Two months later, I tracked him down and demanded my payment. He said that he'd pay me once I slept with him. I became furious and violent and threatened to rip his balls off. That changed his tune, and he wrote me out a check to cash, then and there. I deposited it right away, and it went through.

For reasons such as this, I don't date crewmembers.

I'd Believe it if You Told Me That

E-mail Submitted by Rose:

Dear Rose,

I can't get over how much you rock! When do you plan to leave your job? You inspire me. So much!

You have a great vacation planned! I've been to the outer banks before, so if you need a tour guide, then let me know! I think it's so smart of you to take a vacation there in March. No one else will be there!

I know this may come off as strong, but I feel a really deep connection to you, like we're meant to be together at once.  So here's what I think: we go on a first date, make sure the magic's there, and then you'll recall that I said that I'm taking a week off later this month to go to Florida.  If you leave your job, you can come to Florida with me! 

I know you're thinking, what a great deal!  What if I also told you that I'm the most skilled lovemaker that I've ever met?  That;'s right.  Again sorry if it comes off as strong, but we need to see if we're compatible on multiple levels and we're not getting any younger! ;)

Tell me more about your time in Spain and Portugal.  I've always wanted to visit there.  I also want to learn more about your family.

Always,
Daniel

Revenge Is Best Served Cold, Not at Absolute Zero.

Story Submitted by Nestor:

Alana and I were acquaintances growing up, as we had gone through elementary and middle school together. Her mother, Mrs. Boynton, was my seventh-grade teacher, as a matter of fact.

Alana and I grew further apart in high school, and when we went off to different colleges, I guessed that would be the last that I'd hear of her.

Not so. When I was home for winter break, my mother told me that she had bumped into Alana and Mrs. Boynton while at a bookstore, and that Alana had asked about me.

"She's very pretty," my mother told me, "You should call her up."

Why not? It would be nice to catch up, and if she was pretty, well, so much the better.

Alana and I went to a cafe by a park. She was pretty, and had grown at least a few inches since I had seen her last. Her blonde hair was long, and she had a set of blue eyes that I had never recalled really looking at, before.

We caught up about high school, college, etc. I asked her if she was seeing anybody.

She said, "No. Why?"

I imagined kissing her and replied, "Because I think you're cool."

I tapped her arm gently, and she asked, "Want to take a walk?"

We left the cafe, walked down a path, and held hands. I found a side trail and we took it. When we stopped to look at some gopher burrows, I pulled her in for a kiss.

She pushed away and asked, "Do you remember the nickname I had back in grade school?"

"No," I said, anxious to continue with the whole kissing thing.

"'Booger Queen.' Remember it now?"

I did, and couldn't for the life of me understand why she had chosen this, of all moments, to bring it up.

She said, "You gave it to me, remember? In first grade."

I said, "I didn't. I never would have—"

"And now you want to kiss me, oh how the tables have turned."

She wasn't going to bring up something I didn't even remember doing 12 years earlier, was she? She wasn't going to sabotage this whole nice day, was she? She wouldn't.

She would. "Fuck off," she said, then smiled and walked away, as fast as she could. I was so stunned that I didn't even follow her.

When I made it home, my mother told me that Mrs. Boynton, Alana's mother and my former teacher, had called for me and requested that I call her back.

When I did, Mrs. Boynton seemed very angry about something: "Nestor, I think you owe Alana an apology."

"About what?"

"She came home today in tears and said that you called her 'Booger Queen.'"

"I didn't. She lied."

"Alana doesn't lie. I know I'm not your teacher anymore, but if I were grading you at life, Nestor, then I'd give you a failing grade!"

I said, "With all respect, Mrs. Boynton, any failing grade you give should be reserved for Alana's honesty."

She said, "Okay. Goodbye, Nestor," and hung up.

Mrs. Boynton was a good teacher in the classroom. It's a shame that she didn't seem to teach her daughter how to be a dignified, functioning member of society.

Message from a Supervillain

E-mail Submitted by Leana:

Desperate to tellyou:

If I turned all men on earth into dogs and all women into cats, we would all not be able to mate!  But what if some of the dogs (and cats) were male and others female?  Then, we could mate!

I'm Bradley and I speak four languages and I work for a printing company although I have dreams of going into something on more of a professional level, like law.  Or business.  Seriously, I have a lot of drive, and I want to do something more with my life.

It seems like you're doing a lot with yours.  You co-founded a school program?  And you bake bread?  That's awesome.  And a Ph.D.?  I'm very impressed.  Seriously, you have one of the best profiles on here.

RIDDLE ME THIS, PH.D.:
01000010 01100101 00100000 01110011 01110101 01110010 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01100100 01110010 01101001 01101110 01101011 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 01110010 00100000 01001111 01110110 01100001 01101100 01110100 01101001 01101110 01100101 00101110

Bradley

The Whole E-mail Is a Title of Something

E-mail Submitted by Jerry:

Hi There.

You Mention In Your Profile That You Like Edgar Allen Poe.  Which Of His Stories Is Your Favorite?  I Like The Cask Of Amontillado.  I've Got A Great Big Smile, Great Big Eyes, And A Great Ass To Complete The Package.  Also I Can Breathe Underwater.  I Don't Like To Prove It Unless I Have To, Thank You Very Much!

I Like Going Clubbing And Dancing And I Love The Beaches Around Here But I Don't Like Fishing Or Fishermen Because They Take Fishing Way Too Seriously.  I Mention This (Although It May Sound Silly) Because There's A Photo Of You At A Beach.  I Hope It's Not You Fishing!

My Mother Wants Grandkids As Soon As Possible.  I'm Not In A Hurry But You Should Know That I'm Looking For Something Serious.  I Know I Can Get Any Guy But Any Guy Won't Do.  Only The Right One For Me!

You Said That You Cook.  What Do You Cook?  Nothing Spicy Please.  Dislike Spiciness To The Hardcore.  Food Is Great Except For Spicy Food!

I Look Forward To Hearing From You.

Sincerely,
Christy

What Wet Eyebrows You Must Have

Story Submitted by Gigi:

Carl responded to my dating site profile, we messaged, talked on the phone, and set up a date.

When he arrived, I noted at once that his online pictures had stretched the truth a bit: he jumped out of his enormous truck wearing a Confederate belt buckle around his fat-ass belly and sporting a cap on his bald-ass head.  He was 5'2" at best.  My first thought was how to make it out of this date without being rude.

As I don't do rude, I sucked it up and went out to show him the beach, had coffee, then went back to my house, where I had a group of friends (men and women) come over because I couldn't stand another minute by myself with him.

He got drunk and hung out with my girlfriends and I instead of with the guys.  Well, the girls were drunk too and my friend Jenny told a story about a man she dated who had an itty-bitty, teeny-weeny penis.

Carl said, "That's why I learned to lick my eyebrows... ladies."

If it wasn't over before, it was over now!  I let him spend the night in my guest room as he was way too wasted to drive two and a half hours home.  I spent the night hoping he would be gone by the time I got up.

Alas, he was not.  I shoved him out the door and deflected the e-mails requesting to see me again.

In Other News, Clothing Retailers Report a Belt Shortage

Story Submitted by William:

Brianne and I sang in the same choir. When we all went out together as a group, after a performance, I thought that it would be a good chance to get to talk to one another.

We spoke, and had a good conversation. Curiously, at one point she asked me if I liked leather straps. The first thing I thought of, of course, was sex. I'm not into s&m, and so I told her, "Not sexually."

She laughed that off and said, "Me either," and we let it lie. Strangely, though, after I made it home, and even after arranging a date with her, it was all I could think about.

On our date at a restaurant, she excused herself a few times to go to the bathroom, early on. I asked her if everything was okay, and she said that it was.

After we ordered food, she disappeared twice more. I didn't want to make her uncomfortable, but her time in the restroom was seriously eating into our time at the table.

She came back after a fifth bathroom visit and I asked her, again, if she was all right.

She said, "Yes," and pulled a small leather strap out of her pocketbook. It had some serious chew marks on it.

"I chew leather when I'm nervous," she said, "Have since I was young."

I wanted to be supportive, and so I asked her, "How can I help you feel more comfortable?"

She picked up her strap and chewed it, right in front of me. "Sorry," she said, "I can't help it."

I asked her if there was anything that I could do, and she said, "Spending more time with you might help, but I'm going to be really nervous for a while."

I liked her, and she seemed to like me, so I decided to go on another date with her. At the time, I didn't realize what I was getting into, but you have to understand that she was a very kind person who just happened to become very nervous.  Ending things just because of one little quirk seemed silly.

On our next date, she came over to my house and we watched a movie. She seemed fine, although she disappeared a couple of times.

On the date after that, we went to her place. She cooked me dinner. In the middle of it, she excused herself.

I felt bad that she was likely very nervous in her own home, and I went to look for her. I knocked on a door that I thought was the bathroom and called for her. No answer. I opened the door and turned on a light.  It was stupid of me, and in retrospect, I was snooping.

Hanging from nails in the walls were hundreds, hundreds of belts and leather straps, all variations on brown and black, and all chewed into oblivion.  I could almost hear horror music creeping in, and I quickly turned off the light and closed the door.

I made it back to the dining room before she returned.  My first question was if she ever sought professional help for her leather-chewing habit.  She said that she had when she was younger, and that it helped her for a year, but then she went right back into the habit.  She then excused herself again.

It was at that point where I felt that it was more than I could handle, and it was seriously affecting the quality of our time together.  We had a nice rest of the night, interruptions to chew leather notwithstanding, and we parted without a problem.

The next time I spoke with her, though, I told her that I probably wouldn't be interested in pursuing things with her any further.

Rebuttal Post: Someone Skipped Chemistry Class

("James," the subject of Someone Skipped Chemistry Class, has submitted his own version of events on that date.  James says: "Please keep our names to the pseudonyms written in the original post.  I have no desire to humiliate anyone: only to clear the record.")


Rebuttal Story Submitted by James:

Rachel and I met, much as she says.  "Quiet and a little awkward" is one of her many generalizations and uninformed statements.  Contrary to her belief, I am gregarious.  The fact that we don't travel in the same social circles does not force the conclusion that I am "quiet and awkward," much as her own behavior does not necessarily imply that her friends are boisterous shocks of screaming excitement.

As she has said, I asked her out after a philosophy class.  In her defense, she was charming and seemed very interested in learning more about me, as I also felt about her.  We did indeed go to a local Mexican restaurant for our date, and I did offer to pay, but here the tale diverges.

She thanked me, and I picked up a menu.  She then asked, "Were you just staring at my breasts?  Please don't."

I put the menu down and said, "I did not just look at your mammaries," and I said it in a very obviously joking tone, despite the statement's truth, "And if I had, then I'm sure I would have meant it as a compliment."

I smiled at her, but she said nothing to that and picked up her menu.  I said, "I'm just kidding around.  I didn't look at your breasts, and I'm sorry if it seemed that I did."

"Can we stop talking about it?" she asked.

She came off as touchy, and so I changed the subject.  "Have you been here before?  Do you want some recommendations?"

She said, "Sure," and so I pointed out a few items on her menu.  More silence on her end.  I wasn't sure what to say until after our orders were taken.  I asked her what she wanted to talk about.

"How are you doing in philosophy?" she asked.

I said, "I'm looking forward to the upper-level courses."  She nodded and didn't volunteer anything further.  I asked, "And how is it treating you?"

She sighed loudly and said, "Fine, okay?"

Clearly I had hit a nerve, but I had no idea how.  I asked her, "Is everything okay?  We could talk about something else.  Endangered species, if there's ever such a thing as a benevolent dictator, Venezuela..."

"James, I–" she stopped herself.  Something was very obviously amiss.

I asked her, "Rachel, please tell me what's wrong.  Did I offend you?"

She gave me more silent treatment.  I volunteered, "I'm planning to go to the Middle East this summer."  She laughed dismissively to herself, as if she thought me stupid for even having the audacity to be breathing near her.  I asked her, "What will you be doing over the summer?"

A shrug.

I said, "Have you been to the Middle East?  It's safer there then the media would have you believe."

"I haven't been," she said, looking away.

Our food arrived, and I told her, "I'm glad to be here, with you."

No response.  I gave up and tried my best to enjoy dinner, for which, as we seem to agree, I did pay.

Once we left the restaurant, I asked her if she wanted to take a walk (it was November, so I guessed that she wouldn't go for the plan) or if she wanted to go to a cafe, or if I could walk her back to her residence.

She said, "I'm just going to go," and left me there, without explanation or goodbye.

The e-mail, which I won't quote again, was correct, verbatim.  Perhaps it was immature of me to send it, but she only had to sit through five seconds of reading it.  I had to sit through over an hour of her behavior, and I wouldn't have felt right unless I told her what was on my mind.

Grade-schooler indeed.


(See Rachel's original post here.)

What an Awkward Conversation That Will Be

Story Submitted by Justin:

I'd been dating Evelyn for close to half a year when she sat me down on my couch and confessed that she had been cheating on me.  I was so hurt that I asked her to leave, and she did.

That might have been the end of the story, but she wrote me an e-mail later that day, a very long one, in which she apologized in about a hundred different ways and told me how great I was in about hundred more.  It was the most self-deprecating thing that I've ever read, but it didn't move me.  If she had really cared about me that much in the first place, she wouldn't have cheated, right?

I woke up the following morning to two more e-mails from her, and I wrote back with: "Please stop writing me.  I'll be in touch."  I just needed some time to work things out.

She did stop writing.  But then she started texting.  The first one, "I'm sorry," I ignored.  The dozens that followed it were harder to ignore.  I texted, "No more texts.  They're not helping."

I was about to text her "No phone calls, either," when she called.

I picked up, told her to stop contacting me, and hung up.  She called again and said, "I have to apologize again, face-to-face."

"You've apologized enough.  Let me be for now."

She didn't like that, but I eventually convinced her and we hung up.  That night, my friend, Joseph, called.

"Dude," he said, "You don't have to forgive me, but you really ought to forgive Evelyn.  She loves you."

I hadn't told him about our break up.  And why would Joseph need forgiving?  Unless...

"She cheated on me with you?" I asked.

Silence from Joseph's end of the phone.  Then, "Shit, dude.  I thought she told you.  Um..."

My heart beat the loudest I'd ever heard it beat.  I didn't hear anything else that Joseph blabbered on about and I hung up on him.

Evelyn tried me over and over again for what felt like months.

Last I heard, she and Joseph are married with kids.  They live far away from me, and that's just fine.  I wonder what they'll tell their children when they're asked how they met.

Why Am I Alone on Saturday Nights?

E-mail Submitted by Margaret:

You say that your favorite smell is trees.  Have you ever smelled a treefart?  They eat a lot of dirt, and when they break wind, it isn't pretty.

Now that I have your attention, I'm Jay.  You must be a woman.  Come to think of it, womanfarts aren't that great either.  I'd say they're worse than manfarts, all because of the varied diet of the female animal.  All that wheat and chocolate.  Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

I am a scientist but don't let that put you off.  Most of my humor tends to be science humor.  Been thinking a lot about farts lately.  Farts are a combination of ammonia, methane, sulfides, and hydrogen.  I try to find a highbrow way of discussing them, but I have yet to come up with one.

Reading your profile makes you sound like a little Miss. Manners, so perhaps you can enlighten me.  It was a fun read, and I think that we have a lot in common.  Instead of listing our similarities, just check out my profile and see if we click.  Thank you.

Jay

Dating Site or Clothing Store?

E-mail Submitted by Eric:

Thanks for sending me a message!  I make clothes for men and women.  If you are interested in clothes you should write back and I'll send you my site. 

I saw what you were wearing in your pictures and if you were wearing my clothes then I think you'd get so many more responses to the messages that you send out.  Did you know that we form opinions about other people within three seconds of seeing them?  They don't even have to say anything!  It's all based on what they're wearing.  You should try out some of my clothes.

If you mention this e-mail then you get 5% off in my online store!  Buy two things, save 10%!  Three things, 15%!  And it goes on from there.  You have to check it out and send your friends there too!

I like in your profile how you said that you like biking and movies.  Biking and movies are awesome!

Don't forget to write back so I can send you my site!  Also, all of my profile pictures are of me in things I've made.

Cheryl

Not All Reunions Are Happy

Story Submitted by Angeline:

David and I were friends from college who stayed in touch over IM and e-mail. We both lived in different parts of the country, and always promised each other that we'd meet up. However, for several years after graduation, circumstances always prevented it.

Finally, I received an e-mail from David. It contained the line, "I'm divorced! WOO HOO!"

As I've said, he and I had been in touch on a pretty regular basis, so his mention of a divorce, much less a marriage to begin with, was a bit of a shock. He wrote that he was planning to do some traveling, and asked if I'd want to meet up if he passed my way. It seemed as though we had a lot to catch up on, so we made plans for dinner.

A few weeks later, he called to let me know that he was in town, and if I could give him a place to stay for a day or two. I didn't have a problem with helping a friend, and I looked forward to seeing him.

When he did see me, he gave me a big hug and said, "Guess what? I'm divorced!" and slapped me five. "Let the night of debauchery commence."

I had a feeling that he wanted more than just a friendly meeting, but I had a lot of questions for him. He explained that he married before he was ready, didn't tell me about it because, according to him, he didn't tell almost anybody about it, and how the whole thing was just a scam, on the part of his former spouse.

"Thanks for letting me stay," he said, "I brought special pajamas for the occasion."

Having caught up at dinner, he offered to buy wine and suggested watching a movie back at my place. Throughout the night, he had been especially touchy feely and it made me uncomfortable.

During the film, he tried to put the moves on me. It might have been the wine talking, but he said that he had always liked me and wished that he had married me instead of the woman he had married. He also said that he didn't want to tell me about his marriage because he would've had an affair with me. How charming!

He left the room to put on his pajamas. He came back with a too-tight, too-short shirt and no pants.

I nearly fell off the couch and I looked away. "For God's sake, put some pants on!" I said.

"It's okay," he said, "It's nothing to be afraid of."

"Put your pants on!" I repeated, now shaking a bit.

He asked, "Why? We'll just be taking then off again in a minute." he sat down next to me and I jumped off the sofa.

"I will not be sleeping with you," I told him, "So put some pants on right now."

He smiled as if I was kidding, then left the room and returned wearing no shirt and a pair of boxer shorts.  We watched the rest of the movie in uncomfortable silence, I set him up on the couch, went to bed, and locked my door.

He was out of the house before I woke up, and had written me an apology note. The PS read, "Sorry about the couch."  I looked at my couch and found nothing immediately wrong. I lifted a cushion to find a curious stain.

Watch Out for Manparts

E-mail Submitted by Angie:

I practically blew my load when I saw your picture. How the hell are you?

I'm a good man with a stable career and I'm looking for the same, but without the manparts. Something long term and serious - no games, no joking around.

Most women I've met off this site have been a joke. All f them want a man who they can take from, but everything that's taken from me I take back, and sometimes not how you'd want me to. No apologies, just a carpe diem!!!

Like you, I like the occasional musical (Rent hells yeah) and dogs and cats and muffins. So write back if you're for real.

Trey

Maybe All Guys Really Do Sound Alike

Story Submitted by Mira:

Jon was 20 minutes late to our date before I called him. "Sorry," he said over the phone, "I must be on central time."

"But we're in the eastern time zone," I informed him, but he hung up.

He was an extra 20 minutes from that point, and I already ordered a meal for myself and an appetizer, for Jon and I to split. I thought he'd probably be hungry when he arrived, and thought it only fair to have something for him, if I was eating.

When he did show up, he said, "You started without me. That's nice."

I reminded him that he was late, didn't have a good excuse, and that I had ordered us an appetizer to tide him over until he ordered a meal.

"You go ahead and eat," he said, "I don't need anything. Why would I?"

This date was bad news, and I wasn't about to let it last any longer than I had to. I paid for the meal and had the rest of the appetizer packed up for myself.

"I thought it was for me," he said.

I replied, "Not since you said that you didn't want it."

I gathered my things and left without a goodbye. He followed me out.

"Forget me?" he asked, catching up outside.

"This isn't going to work out," I told him.

He said, "Fair enough. Do you want to meet my friend Desmond? You're more his type, and there's plenty he could do with you."

"No. Good night."

"I'm calling Desmond. Expect him to give you a call."

I was most of the way back to my car at that point.

That night, I received a call from a number that I didn't recognize. I let it go to voicemail. When I listened to the message, it was obviously Jon's voice, and it said:

"Hey Mira, it's Desmond, Jon's friend. He told me that you're nice and cute, and I want to go out with you sometime, you know, maybe have some fun. Well, call me back at this number and I'll pick up the phone. Hope to see you. Yeah. Maybe wearing a skirt. Okay. Bye."

Thanks but no thanks, "Desmond."

Mystery at the Ski Jump

Story Submitted by Milo:

Gwen and I had been dating for a month and a half when I took us skiing for the day. I try to go a few times a season, and Gwen hadn't gone in a while.

While we were going down one slope, I coasted a bit ahead and saw a fork in the trail. One of them was marked easy, the other one less so. I waited for Gwen to catch up, and when I saw her coming around a bend, I started off again, but slowly, so as to allow her to catch up. She could very clearly see me from where she was.

I was going for not more than thirty seconds when I looked behind me and saw no sign of Gwen. She didn't answer her cell phone. I went down the rest of the way and hoped to find her at the bottom. She wasn't there.

I waited for a half-hour before going up in the lift again. I went down the other path in the fork and called for her, but there was no sign. I tried her cell over and over. No answer.

I searched for her down at the bottom and then in the lodge. I told the ski patrol what had happened, and they said that they'd look for her.

I waited in the lodge and searched around outside for several more hours. They made an announcement over the speaker system for her to report to the patrol station. She didn't show up. I was in panic, and thought about going up again to look for her.

She finally did call. "Where are you? Are you okay?" I asked, hardly able to push the words out fast enough.

"I'm fine. I've been up and down close to a dozen times. Where have you been?"

I explained my concern and asked her why she didn't pick up her phone or call me back.

She said, "I don't know. I figured we'd just bump into each other again."

"I've had them looking for you! I searched for you! They made an announcement! I called you twenty times! And you didn't think once that I was trying to find you?"

She paused before saying, "Yeah. You're a little obsessive and psychotic."

I couldn't really comprehend that statement, and when we finally did meet up, she was distant and didn't seem at all happy to be back around me.

The drive back was awkward, and whenever I tried to make conversation, she barely spoke. She didn't thank me for the day and didn't ever call or write me again. All because I cared.

Always Have a Safety Word

Story Submitted by Marcus:

I was out with a group, and one of my female friends brought her own friend, Mallory, along.

Mallory was very easily the center of attention. She had a comeback for everything, had some great stories, and, in short, was a cool girl — the type you want to be around.

For any other guy, she might have come across as intimidating, but I had an unhealthy mix of courage and foolhardiness (and a bit of alcohol) that night, and so I made it my goal to get her number.

We talked for a bit at the bar, but when I asked her for her number, she refused to give it to me.

"I can't date anyone right now," she said, "I may not date anyone, ever again."

Disappointed, but truthful, I said, "That's fine. We can be friends."

She said, "I don't think I even want that. I'm having a hard time trusting guys right now."

She spanked me, which was an awfully flirtatious thing for a woman not looking for any male companionship to do.

I offered to let her be for the rest of the night, and for the next couple of hours, I didn't interact with her and did my best to ignore her.

Towards the end of the evening, she and I ended up sitting next to each other in a booth and she started kissing my neck. I turned to her and went to kiss her.

She turned away and yelled, "No!" and slapped my thigh.

"Don't tease me," I told her.

She asked if we could go outside. When we did, she confessed to me that her last boyfriend had tried to kill her. When I asked her how, she wouldn't tell me, but she said it was during sex.

She became weepy and I said, "I'm sorry," and went to embrace her. Not to kiss her or take advantage of her, just to hold her.

She moved into my arms, then yelled, "No!" and jerked away and slapped at me. Everyone around us took notice, and I stepped away from her as she continued to slap at the air, as if waving away a cloud of attacking bats.

I went inside to get her friend, but when we came back out, she was gone.

I didn't hear from Mallory directly again, but her friend did relay me the message, weeks later, that Mallory would "accept my apology." I have no idea what I had to be sorry about.

Someone Skipped Chemistry Class

Story Submitted by Rachel:

I attend a university where the dating scene is essentially nil.  I've made plenty of great friends, but no one I would have considered romantically until I met James a little over a year ago.

James was on the periphery of my friend circle, but we had spoken at a few functions, and we studied the same concentration.  I thought he was attractive, but quiet and a little awkward.

He caught up with me after class one day, and we talked about class, college, life, etc.  He asked me if I wanted to continue the conversation over dinner, and I asked him, "Like a date?"

He replied, "You can call it that, if you want."

I hadn't been on a date yet in college, and James seemed like a nice guy.  Maybe all he needed was just some one-on-one time to loosen up.

A few days later, he took me out to a Mexican place.  We had both dressed up for the occasion, and he looked really good.

"This is on me," was the first thing he said when we sat down.  I thanked him, and noticed him staring at my chest.

I waited a few moments before clearing my throat.  He looked at it a moment more before looking up and saying, "I was admiring your mammaries.  They are... you should be proud of them."

I gave an awkward laugh and thanked him, then picked up the menu to hide my chest from him.

I asked him if he recommended anything in particular, and he apologized for the "mammary" comment.  I told him not to worry about it and I repeated my question about what he would suggest from the menu.

He said, "No, really.  I was just kidding."

"Let's stop talking about it," I said.

"Already, you're going to pick a fight with me.  I was kidding, for God's sake."

Damage control.  I said, "I'm sorry.  Let's just put it behind us."

He ripped the menu from my hands and scanned it over.  He pointed to a few menu items too quickly for me to register what they were, then handed the menu back to me, almost hitting me in the face with it.

I took it back from him and decided to wait for him to make conversation, since he was obviously upset.

We had both closed our menus, placed our orders, and were sitting in extremely awkward silence for several minutes when he asked, "So, is this what a date is, these days?"

I scrambled to ask him a question.  "How'd you do on your last assignment for philosophy?"

He laughed and muttered, "This is what we're reduced to," then said, "I did fine.  And how are you doing in school?"

I sighed.  "James, what do you want to talk about?"

He said, "Endangered species!  The recession!  China!  Anything except school!  It's all anyone ever talks about."

"Fine.  Endangered species."

"No.  That was my topic.  Come up with your own."

I said, "The economy."

"Weren't you listening?  I said 'the recession.'  Try again."

I blurted, "Summer vacation."

"Hopefully going to the Middle East.  You?"

"I don't know yet."

"You should come to the Middle East with me," he said, then made his hand into a representation of a gun, pointed it at me, and made loud gunshot noises while smiling.

I had nothing to say to that, and thankfully, our food arrived a couple of minutes later.

He watched me eat without eating, himself, and said, "I'm having a nice time," then started eating his own meal.

We didn't say much more, and he paid for dinner, as he had promised.

I was anxious to make it back to my room, a little because I had work to do, and a lot because I didn't want to spend any more time with James.  He asked me where I lived.  I lied and told him the name of the furthest dormitory.  I actually lived in the other direction from it, but hoped that he would say goodnight then and there.

He became very excited and said, "I live that way.  Why don't I walk you back?"

I said, "I wanted to do some shopping, first."

"I'll come with you."

"I think we should call it a night."

He laughed, rolled his eyes, and walked off.  I jogged down an open-ended alleyway nearby, and didn't stop walking, even after hearing him call, "Hey, wait!" behind me.

He wrote me an e-mail at three in the morning, and I found it in my inbox the next day:

Dear Rachel:

I'm so very unimpressed with your maturity level that I have decided to call off our second date.  I thought that we could be two adults, but it seems as though you're still stuck in grade school.

Warm regards,
James


One of us certainly acted like a grade-schooler.

Flowers, Chocolates, Nuclear Weapons

E-mail Submitted by Trina:

hey you know i don't have misseltoe but we can still find a good place to kiss and make each other so glad into the night.

i want to worship at your feet and in exchange you'll give me worship also.  i'm like an altar of love, my fires burn all around me so high thaT THE trees around us set on fire, too.  we'll flame up the world with our love and when everyone's screaming for us to put it out THAT IS WHEN WE DON'T PUT IT OUT, only we KEEP GOING.

that's my kind of love and i think you're the kind of girl for me to share it with.  our loves will burn together, forever, because the fire never goes out.... only everybody else....

Jake

Holy Moly

Story Submitted by Zachary:

I have a mole near my nose.  It's never bothered me, and my life hasn't been too troubled by it.

Someone who was troubled by it, however, was Amanda.  Our courtship started out normally.  She had a good profile on a dating site, I wrote to her, and we went out to a bar for our date.

She tossed back three martinis and pointed at my face.  "You should remove your mole."

I brushed my mole slightly with my fingertips and said, "I think I'm good."

"It might be cancer."

"It isn't.  I've had it checked."

She went direct: "Then get rid of it because it's ugly.  I really hate moles."

"I really hate your attitude.  Now drop it."

She sat back and downed the rest of her martini.  She said, "I was trying to help you."

"You're tipsy."

She looked like she was about to cry and said, "You're going to die, and I'm trying to help."

I tried my best to salvage the date after that, but she was too upset to carry on much of a conversation.  Maybe what I said was harsh, given that she wasn't in a clear state of mind.  Still, anyone who drinks enough to say what she said is someone with whom I wouldn't have been happy.

Romance Isn't Dead. It's Just Sleeping.

E-mail Submitted by Larry:

Dear you:

I've decided that it's time to turn over a new leaf.  I'm 38, I've been looking for love for years, and have discovered the truth - that it doesn't exist.  Marriage is nothing but a business partnership: one person wants one thing, another wants something else, and it's just a mutually beneficial relationship.  Sex, money, domination, whatever you want, you can find in a marriage.

Your profile says that you work in the legal field.  I propose that we call a spade a spade.  You might be wealthy, and I'm attracted to wealthy guys.  I'm a model.  If you're attracted to attractive women, then perhaps we can work something out.

I'm tired of pretending that companionship is anything more than a business proposition.  We both want something, why not reach out and take it?

I don't do sex more then three times a week, and I want to see you at least once a day.  No kids.  I think that's reasonable.  What do you offer?

Krista

The Infernal Dance of the Onion Ring Thief

Story Submitted by Connie:

Ryan wrote me online while I was in the midst of a long dating drought.  I had been focused on working out some personal issues when he contacted me with a witty first message.  A line that it included was, "I can be a handful, but in a good way."  One thing led to another, and we were off on our first date.

We were meeting up pretty late in the evening.  To start, he showed up in a white jumpsuit, with a large black zipper up the front.  I briefly wondered if it was a work outfit, but he had told me that he did work with linguistics.  I'm normally not superficial, but it's hard not to notice such a thing.

"Let's go dancing!" he suggested.

I asked, "Can we do dinner, first?"

"Let's go dancing!" he repeated.

I told myself that I'd do less than an hour of dancing before insisting that we do dinner.

His dance moves were... well... erratic.  And they involved a lot of squats and bends.  He attracted a lot of looks, as a squatting guy in a white jumpsuit no doubt usually would.

I tried to have a good time and just dance a bit, but I was becoming hungrier, and I didn't think that it was very considerate of him to disregard that.  I asked him after a half-hour if we could grab something to eat.

He nodded and we left the dancing place to visit a pub nearby.  We both ordered sandwiches that came with either fries or onion rings.  I ordered onion rings, he ordered fries.

When our food was served, he didn't eat any of his fries, but he helped himself to plenty of my onion rings.

"After dinner, let's dance!" he suggested again.

I said, "Can we do something else?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know.  Maybe coffee, maybe a movie, maybe some live music somewhere?"

He ate one of the last of my onion rings and said, "I'm just really in a mood to dance."

"Stop eating my onion rings."

"They're really good."

I moved my plate away from him and ate the last two before he could grab them.  He looked at my plate for a good while before breaking his own stare and saying, "Come on.  Let's go dancing."

I said, "If we go dancing again, then I only want to do it for a little bit.  I want to go do something else after."

He agreed to that, and we went back to the dance place.  He even received some applause when he walked in, as some people at the bar recognized him from before.  It was hard not to.

We danced for a bit and I reminded him of our deal.  He said, "Okay.  You can go do something else.  I'm going to stay here."

I left him there.  He wrote me an e-mail to tell me that I missed some great dancing.  I wrote him back to tell him that I didn't want to see him again.

Blog of Love

Story Submitted by George:

Clara had a blog that I visited every now and again.  I noted that she was local and single, but it never occurred to me to reach out to her until she wrote a post about a abusive ex-boyfriend that she had.  I commented something long and heartfelt, about how she deserved someone who treated her better, etc.

She wrote me an e-mail in response, essentially asking me out.  I thought it a bit quick, especially as I had spent a while reading her blog and getting to know her that way, and she only knew me as a lurker who posted one or two comments, ever.  Maybe it was the fact that I was a local fan.  In any event, that's how we came to meet.

I was excited to meet her, and for the first half-hour of our time together in the coffee shop, things went great.

Something that was a little odd about her, though, was that whenever she wasn't talking, she would hum.  It was annoying enough for me to ask her about it.

She said, "Oh, it's just a coping mechanism," and left it at that.

I knew that she had been through a lot, so I didn't push her any further on the topic.  The only thing was that she hummed even louder.

A little bit later, she received a phone call that she said she had to take.  She went outside and I surveyed the shop.  It was moderately busy, and there was an even chance that someone I knew personally might have also been there.  It was a local hangout.

When she came in, she asked, "Am I boring you that much?  I saw you scoping out the scene."

I explained that I wasn't checking other people out, but she said, "Come on.  We're leaving."

We had planned on a walk after coffee, but something was definitely bugging her.  As we left the place, I asked her if everything was okay, and she said, "Yeah, fine."

We went for our walk as dusk settled in.  She didn't say anything to me, but began walking faster, and I had to speed up to keep pace.  She walked even faster, so that she was two steps, then three, ahead of me.

I jogged to keep up, and then she ran away, at a speed I was unwilling to match.  I watched as she ran down the sidewalk, around a corner, and out of sight.

Of course, over the next few weeks, I checked out her blog to see if she mentioned anything that would explain her behavior, but her subsequent posts said nothing about our "date."

I've since stopped reading her blog, now that I know what kind of a person she is.