A Pain in the Assassination

Story Submitted by Ciara:

I was in college when I met Tony at a party.  He picked me up in his car at my dorm on the night of our date, pulled away from the curb, and asked me, "Are you going to cooperate with me tonight?"

I asked, "What do you mean?"

He said, "I have an errand to run, and I might not come back alive.  You in?"

I said, "Is there a chance that I'll die, too?"

He said, "A large chance."

"Then I don't think so, Tony."

He pulled over to the side of the road.  "You can get out, then," he said, disappointed, as if he had expected me to come along.

I asked, "What's your errand all about?"

He said, "I have to kill a killer.  You in?"

I took a moment to consider, then said, "I don't think so, Tony."

He pointed to my door.  "The door's right there."

I exited the car, and Tony sped off on his important errand.  I never heard from him again.  My conclusion is that he failed in his task, but I imagine him dying bravely, taking fifty bullets to the sternum, falling out of a helicopter, and being eaten by bears.

You Want a Parade?

Email Submitted by Jonathan:

I've been on this site for four years.  Slept with five guys.  Gotten into countless fights with their girlfriends/wives.  One thing I learned is what a good profile is, and you have one.  I salute you sir!

Are you married?  I have to ask.  I've slept with five guys off this site, three of whom were married and they DIDN'T TELL ME!  Fun for me, sucks for them and their wives (they always found out) but whatever.

It's easy for me to find guys off this site (I slept with 5.  Three were married!) but I don't seek married guys on purpose.  I want you to know that and be straight if you're married or not.

Renee

Paging Sisqo

Story Submitted by Mia:

Claude wrote to me online and said that I could ask him anything.  "I'm an open book: no secrets," he said.  It was a nice sentiment to read, although I'm the type of person to let things run their own course.  No need to rush into any personal questions that don't come up naturally.

We got along just fine by email, and he asked me out for a coffee and a walk.

Things went south not five minutes after sitting down at coffee.  He asked, "So, do you wear thongs?"

I replied, "I don't really want to answer that."

He smiled and said, "That means yes.  Cool.  Wearing one now?"  I didn't reply, as I couldn't find appropriate words fast enough.  He went on, "I mean, seeing as how we're both cool with asking personal questions."

I said, "You were the only one who said that you were cool with it.  I'm not going to answer everything you ask, especially if your questions are inappropriate."

He shifted in his seat and said, "Well, if you don't answer anything then how will I get to know you?"

I replied, "By asking me more about who I am and less about what I'm wearing."

"So you are wearing a thong!" he said, a bit too loudly, "I knew it!"  He leaned closer to me and his eyes went wide like a famished wolf spying on a herd of sheep.  "Describe it?"

I said, "Tell me about the programming you do."

He stood up and said, "You want to take that walk now?  Let's take a walk."

As I said, we had sat down to coffee not five minutes before.  "We just sat down," I said, "Can we stay here for a bit?"

He said, "I'm going to keep asking you about your thong unless we take a walk now."

I stood up and followed him out.  We walked about a block in silence, and he said, "So, what color is your thong?"

I stopped walking, said, "This isn't going to work.  Thanks for the coffee," and left him standing there.  For the record, I was not wearing a thong.

The Witches Just Aren't Trying, Anymore

Email Submitted by Ian:

Have you heard of the witching Hour?  It's the hour of night where witches!  I am can tell you whenthe Witching Hour is.  If you write me back only ;)

Many witches!  Soooooo many waitches!  They come for you during the witching hour!  When is it?  Will you be safes?  Write me back and I will tell!  ;)

Time for witches! Not now because it's not witching hour.  Once it is you need to be somewhere from where they can see you or they will dance with your bdybdy!  Beware the witching hour!  Write me back and I will say when it is.... ;)  ;)

Liz

If You Say So

Email Submitted by Marina:

This is an emergency.  I need fucking.  I'll pay whatever you want for some.  ****NOT A SCAM.

Jeff

School Daze

Story Submitted by Doug:

Willa's first email to me was the question, "Where did you go to college?"  I wrote her back with the answer, thinking that she might have been a former classmate I didn't recognize.  She replied back to that with a standard message, and I almost forgot her introductory message until our first date.

We were at a restaurant when I remembered and asked her, "Why did you ask me where I went to college in your first message?"

She replied, "I had to be sure that you were intelligent.  So many morons have emailed me over that site, and invariably, they all went to some dumb public college.  It's a good weed-out mechanism."

I stared at her and said, "Not everyone who went to a public college is an idiot."

She said, "Name one person who isn't."

I said, "Me."

She shook her head.  "You went to the University of Michigan."

I said, "Right.  Public school that it is."

She narrowed her eyes and thought for close to a minute.  Finally, she nodded slowly and said, "Well, it's pretty much private."

"But it isn't."

"But it is."

"The University of California, SUNY Binghamton, the University of Virginia... all great public schools."

"They're all also pretty much private."

"Where do you draw the line?"

She sighed.  "All the rest of them."

"Even Georgia Tech?"

She shuddered.  "Especially Georgia Tech.  I have an ex who goes there."

"So that makes it full of morons?"

"If they accepted him?  Yeah."

I was silent for a while after that, and she didn't say anything, until she added, "You ask a lot of questions.  Stupid questions."

First and last date.

Another Zombie Victim

Story Submitted by Tina:

Carl (a 38-year-old) and I had been out on four dates.  They went all right, but I was sensing that there wasn't really any chemistry.  I thought that perhaps it was nerves, so I invited him to dinner at my home, thinking that perhaps we'd both feel a bit more comfortable.

He arrived empty-handed and very proud of it.  He said, "Look, no wine and no flowers!" then walked right into my place, snorted, turned to me, and said, "Okay, so I'm still really high from last night."  I sat him down at the dinner table, hoping that he'd shape up.

He must have caught me staring at some strange behavior and he asked, "What?"

I said, "You're just acting weird."

"Ha!  You have no idea how weird I am!"  I was beginning to get some idea.

After dinner we decided to watch a movie, I mentioned a few titles as options and he brightened at Planet Terror (very kitsch zombie movie - an acquired taste).

I asked him "Are you sure?  Do you know what this is about?"  He said yes, and I popped it in.

After around 20 minutes I noticed him cringing and grimacing at the film's violence, blood, and pus.  I asked him if he wanted to watch something else, and he stood up, muttered, "I'm sorry, we're too different," and walked out of the door.

Two days later, he wrote to ask me out again.  I turned him down.

You Are What You Set Alight

Story Submitted by Kristen:

Back in college, I became acquainted with Tim.  He wasn't in any of my classes, but I bumped into him all the time in the quad until he stopped me one day and struck up a conversation.  I thought that he was a nice guy, and he asked me out for a forthcoming Friday night.

I was nervous on the night of the date, as it was my first date in a while.  About 10 minutes before he was supposed to pick me up at the house I was subletting, the doorbell rang.  I swallowed my nerves, went downstairs, and opened the door...

...to find a flaming paper bag, loaded with shit.

I panicked, grabbed some water and a broom and cleaned it up as best I could before he arrived, which he did, right on time.  I didn't mention anything about it, and we went off to dinner.

After dinner, he took me to a cafe near my house, and we spoke for a bit before he said, "Hey, I've got a surprise for you.  Wait here."

He excused himself and left the cafe.  He was gone for about 10 minutes, then returned and asked, "Ready to go?  We have to go now."

Unsure of what to expect, but pleased with how the evening had gone so far, I walked with him as he led me back to my house...

...where another flaming bag of shit burned on the doorstep.

"Gotcha!" he said, then ran away.

To this day, for the life of me, I can't understand why he spent the time and money (he insisted on paying for everything on the date) on a night with me if he was just going to be an asshole.

The Life Recycle

Emails Submitted by Burton:

yur holding a can of pepsi in yur profile picture.  did u recycle it?  if we all die cause of noone recycling then its all yur fault.  fuck u.

Sharon


**************************
Burton Responds:

Dear Sharon:

I didn't recycle that can, mostly because if we all die, it means that you die, so that's a risk I'm willing to take.

Love,
Burton

Will Flat, Slightly-Used Ones Work?

Email Submitted by Ryan:

I'm not interested in a date.  I collect bugs.  Do you have any bugs that you're willing to donate?  Roaches, spiders, ants, centipedes, new, used, etc.  I don't want to buy them.  I get lots of bugs every week but I need more for a project.  The project is called bugs in bags and I put old bugs I find into bags.  These can be tree bugs or any other bugs I find.  They are recycled and eaten after the project.  If you have lots of bugs please write me back.  thank you.

Marie

Sanity Is Not Legal Tender

Story Submitted by Bridget:

Will and I were out to dinner on a first date.  It wasn't clear to me from our pre-date conversations, but he had a chip on his shoulder against the government.  To sum up his views, every president works for a shadow organization of ultra-powerful businessmen, the government was behind 9/11, and currency should not be backed by anything other than gold and silver.

He seemed a bit bitter, and despite a few minor disagreements that I voiced (and that he was quick to shoot down), I simply nodded at everything that he said and played ignorance.

When the time came to pay the check, I pulled out my wallet and he pulled out his.  That was fine.  What wasn't fine was when he pulled out three bills from his wallet, all of which were the size of paper bills, but were actually crayon pictures with dollar amounts scrawled onto them.

He said, "That's a lot on my part, but the service was good."

I asked him, "What are those?"

He said, "Oh, my currency.  Worth more than U.S. toilet paper, that's for sure.  Mine's backed by actual gold and silver."

I picked up the paper strips.  One of them had a picture that looked like himself locked in combat with a bald eagle.  I put it down and said, "I don't think they're going to accept this."

He said, "You'd be surprised how people's minds can be opened."

The waitress came by and we handed her the bills, my American ones and his from made-up-ville.  She looked at his and said, "I'm sorry, we can't accept these."

He replied, "Mine are backed by gold and silver."  He pointed at me and went on, "Hers are backed by nothing."

The waitress stared at him, caught like a deer in headlights.  I said, "Hey Will, maybe if you give her the gold and silver that your bills are worth then she'd consider that legal tender."

Will said, "Sorry.  I don't carry gold and silver on me."

I asked him, "How can you call your currency backed by something if she has no means to exchange it for what you say it's backed by?"

He said, "Not my problem.  Blame the U.S. government."

The waitress put the check back on the table and said, "I'll let you guys work this out."

Will said, "Her problem for being blind.  Ready to go?"  He stood up and hastily put on his jacket.

I asked, "We're just going to leave her half the check?"

He said, "Your bills are worthless."

I said to him, "I'll meet you outside.  I'm going to run to the bathroom."

He left, and I wrote down his name and number for the waitress.  I wasn't about to pay his half, but I wanted some justice to be done.  I slipped it into the check and met him outside, whereafter I made some excuse and went home.

He asked me out again after that, but I declined the offer.  I'm not sure if the restaurant ever followed up with him, but I've since heard that he got into some legal trouble for conspiracy.

I'm Inspired to Hit "Delete"

Email Submitted by Glenda:

I want to INSPIRE.  Read my profile and tell me if it INSPIRES you.  I am the son of my parents and brother to my siblings.  The whole family INSPIRES!  We are all a talented bunch (the talented bunch? lol) and and when you date me you date my whole INSPIRING family!  Music!  Art!  Literature!  We can make it if we try!  And ALL OF LIFE TO BE ENJOYED!  None better!  Do partake of our bounty - lots to share and be shared!  INSPIRATION!

Scott

From Whence These Footprints Atop My Mount?

Story Submitted by Chris:

Donna and I met through common friends.  She and I were both into role-playing (games and live action) which, at least for me, had always been a difficult mutual interest to find in my relationships.  We spoke over the phone for a few days before setting up a date.

While planning for the date, I wanted to keep it nice and simple: a meeting at a coffee shop.  Average, ordinary, and all about each other.

I showed up in nice pants and a shirt.  She arrived in full Renaissance Faire regalia, complete with a tiara, gown, and boots.  I wasn't expecting that, but I guess it was her way of impressing me.  I have to say, I admired her devotion, especially as it apparently outweighed mine.

"Greetings, squire," she said to me, and curtsied.

"Hi, Donna.  Nice to see you again."

"Whyfore do you not arrive in garb?"

"I dressed for a date, not for the Faire.  You look good, though."

She curtsied and said, "On with the libations?"

She attracted the requisite looks from other customers, but neither of us cared much.  We sat down with our coffees and talked, her in her best old English approximation and myself in my best 21st-century-eastern-seaboard dialect.  She didn't break character once.  Not even when a little kid came over to ask her if there was a Faire in town.

"Sadly not, young thane!" she said, "I am but visiting with my comrade this day."

Our conversation died not long after, as I felt as though I wasn't really getting to know her so much as her character.  I asked her about her job, and she said, "I defend the realm against the serpent invasion."  I asked her about her family and she replied, "They dwell in a valley beyond the Misty Mountains."  I inquired about her education, and she said, "Damsels in the outlands must self-educate or not learn at all!"

She didn't ask me much about myself, and so I became tired of her and ended the date less than an hour after it began.

The real show came when we parted ways in the parking lot, though.  I hugged her goodbye and said, "Maybe I could hang out with the real Donna sometime."

She said, "Lady Donna is the real Donna!  Hence and ho!"  She kissed me on either cheek, then stepped onto a nearby car's front bumper, onto its hood, walked on top of the roof, and then lowered herself onto the rear bumper and back down to the ground.  She then repeated the process on another car, and then another as she climbed away and into the phoenix-fire sunset.

Haven't asked her out since.

Think Potential

Story Submitted by Pauline:

Tom messaged me on a dating site and I checked out his profile.  Every photo he had posted of himself was of him with a different pristine muscle car.  The captions read things like, "My baby," and "My pride and joy."  I'm not into cars, myself, but in his message, he wrote, "My love of cars is second only to my devotion to someone special."  In his further defense, he came across as a well-spoken and good guy, so I gave him a chance.

He asked me, in the week leading up to the date, "Which car do you want me to bring?  I'll pick you up in anything you see on my profile."

I wrote back, "Whichever you want."

He wrote back saying that he'd surprise me.  In all honesty, I couldn't care either way.

He showed up in a rusty old Plymouth that didn't have a muffler.  "What do you think of her?" he asked me at my doorstep, "Think potential."

"It's... you can do quite a bit, starting from here," I said, trying to be supportive.

He said, "Wait 'til you see how it rides!"

We climbed into the car, he revved the engine, and he drove it so fast around the block that I was amazed that the vehicle didn't disintegrate.  He looked over at me and must have seen that I was ready to die.  "What's wrong?" he asked, "Not fast enough?"

"Too fast," I said, "Please slow down."

He hit the brakes a little hard, but the car slowed to a stop.  He said, "I know a good place to race it.  Want to go?"

I said, "Not really.  We can start with dinner."

He rolled his eyes and said, "Okay, little Miss. Sewing Kit."

I replied, "Just because I'm not into racing cars doesn't mean that I lead an unexciting life."

He said, "Okay, now the fighting starts.  You know, most of your kind typically wait until they at least have a few free meals off a guy before they break out the inner bitch."

I opened my car door and said, "Get lost, creep."  As I stepped out, he jolted the car forward, nearly making me lose my balance.  He stopped the car, and I walked off.  He then drove away, down the street, the car door from which I had emerged still hanging open for a little bit before he disappeared around a corner.

Slapped into Next Week

Story Submitted by George:

I was on a second date with Mindy.  Our successful first date had been at a bar and grill, followed by a late night full of talking at an ice cream shop.

She and I were walking on a path by a river in town when she turned to me and asked, "Do you have any weird turn-ons?"

I said, "Probably.  You?"

She nodded and said, "I like having my face slapped.  It's hard to find a guy willing to do it, but I had a boyfriend who did.  How do you feel about that?"

I replied, "I don't think I'd be comfortable doing it, at least not hard enough to be considered a slap."

"Why not?" she asked, "I mean, if I want you to do it."

I said, "I'd rather not commit an act of violence against someone."

"But if I wanted you to do it–"

I said, "I don't think so, although I'd slap your ass."

She gasped, and I had a feeling that my lighthearted (and true) statement had crossed an invisible line.  This was confirmed when she grit her teeth and said, "My ass?  Who the fuck do you think you are?"

I said, "I just think I'd be okay with doing that, as opposed to your face.  Maybe we could hypothetically start with that."

"My ass?" she repeated, "You'd slap my ass?  Are you like some kind of pervert freak?"

I said, "I don't think that's uncommon.  I've had two prior girlfriends who liked it.  It's nothing to be timid about."

She stopped walking.  There I went, stumbling over that line again.  She said, "I'm not timid about jack shit, asshole, and the only thing you're going to be slapping tonight is your monkey!"

She stormed away, and I followed her.  "Mindy, there's no reason to get upset.  If I said something dumb, then I apologize."

"You will not be slapping my ass!" she said, tears forming in her eyes, "You will not!"

"Okay!  Okay!  I won't!" I said, desperate to save whatever pieces I could.

It was too late.  She wanted to be alone, and alone is how I left her.  She emailed me a terse apology with no further explanation, and that was the end of that.

E-I-E-I-No

Email Submitted by Kayla:

my gfs milk tastes nasty.  u got better milk in them tits?  no sex no cheatin just want ur milks.

Larry

As Opposed to Those Other, Nicer Circles

Email Submitted by Conrad:

Hello!  I'm damning people to hell today.  Seriously.  I took an online quiz and it told me which circle of hell I'd be sentenced to or if I'd be going to heaven.  It was a hundred true/false questions and was supposedly written by an angel.

It said that I'd be sentenced to heaven but I want to see where it sends other people.  Not my friends, because it would make me sad to spend eternity without them, so I'm using dudes on dating sites.

I entered in all of the answers I thought you'd answer, according to your profile and it sentenced you to the eighth circle, which is not a nice circle at all.  It's where fraudulent people go.  If I were you I'd be less fraudulent.  Join me in paradise!!

Have to go test some other guys.  The ones who get to heaven are ones I;m interested in!

Sarah

Get Bach Here

Story Submitted by Lauren:

Eric offered to bring me to an outdoor Bach concert. I love Bach, and so I looked forward to the evening with the music and with him.

When we arrived at the venue, it turned out that they were actually putting on a performance of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. I didn't mind so much, as I liked Shakespeare, too.

Eric went up to the ticket window, and they told him that the Bach concert was next week. He had misread the calendar. Instead of offering to watch the play with me or to do something else, he demanded to see a manager.

"What are you doing?" I asked him, "Twelfth Night is fine."

A manager arrived and Eric said, "I received a schedule that promised a performance of Bach here tonight. We came all the way down here for Bach and I don't think that's fair."

The manager said, "Sir, our schedules specify Twelfth Night for tonight. I apologize for any confusion."

Eric said, "We're not leaving without Bach. Get Bach here now, or I'll have you shut down."

I intervened, "It's okay. Twelfth Night is fine."

"No it isn't," Eric said, "Twelfth Night is never fine." He turned back to the manager. "How about it? Bach or trouble?"

The manager stared at him, then said, "I'm sorry, sir. We have to get ready for the show. Excuse me."

Eric stormed out of the venue and I followed him. He said, "I'll have this place shuttered by Monday. You watch."

He climbed into his car and drove off, without me. I was already there, so I bought a ticket to a very entertaining performance. The theater is still open and I go there as often as I can.

Cereal Killer

Story Submitted by Daniel:

Avril and I met in high school.  She was pretty, a friend of a friend of mine who lived a couple of towns away.  We made plans to meet in a park on a Saturday.  When we did, she showed up with a box of corn flakes.

I pointed to it and asked, "Went shopping?"

She said, "No.  They're for us."

I smiled, not really understanding.  "We're eating corn flakes?"

She said, "Every time one of us says something corny, he has to eat a handful of corn flakes."

I asked, "What if I like corn flakes?"

She opened the box and held it out to me.  I grabbed a handful and ate them.  She said, "The point is to not eat corn flakes, though.  I don't like corny."

"But do you like cheesy?"  She frowned and handed me the box again, and I took some more corn flakes.  I said, "This is very unusual.  Memorable, even.  Would you say that it's a walk to remember?  Heh."

She rolled her eyes and said, "Okay.  That's enough.  One more handful and then stop it.  You're reminding me of my dad."

"Is he also a handsome and clever guy?"

She groaned and said, "Have more."

I handed the box back to her.  "No thanks, I'm good."

She pushed the box back at me and said, "That's not how it works.  You need to eat them every time you say something corny."

I said, "I don't really want to, anymore."

"That's the point."

I replied, "Isn't bringing a box of corn flakes on a date for such a purpose kind of corny, itself?"

She growled at me, then said, "No!  And stop being corny!"

I said, "I'm not!  I just pointed out a fact."

"It's not a fact!  Shut up!  Stop being corny!"

"I'm not!  What are you talking about?"

She threw the cereal box down on the ground and yelled, "You're being corny!  Stop it!"

"What are you talking about?"

She screamed at the top of her lungs, then stared bloody murder at me and flared her nostrils.  I stepped away from the crazy woman and said, "Okay, I'm going to head out."

"Take your fucking corn flakes!  Hey!  Hey!" she called after me, but there was no way I was turning around for anything, not even for cereal.

Friends and Benefits

Story Submitted by Isaac:

Carla and I had a date scheduled for a Friday night. That day, she called to ask me if she could invite a friend along. I thought it was a weird request for a date and told her so.

She said, "She's a really good friend and I know you'll like her."

I asked her, "Can I invite a friend, too?"

She said, "Sure."

At the date, Carla showed up with her friend, Lisa. I arrived with my friend, Beth. Lisa introduced herself to me, but the introduction of Carla and Beth was awkward, to say the least. Carla gave me an incredulous look and said, "Uh... hi, I guess," to Beth. Carla then took me aside.

She said, "What the fuck is this? You brought another woman to our date?"

I replied, "Beth's a friend. You said I could bring a friend."

"Yeah! A guy!"

I said, "You never said it had to be a guy. I said 'a friend' and you said 'sure.'"

She said, "I'm not going to share you with some ho-bag."

I said, "Beth isn't a ho-bag, and I don't see what the problem is. She's a friend. You brought a friend along. If it was that important that I bring a guy friend, then you should have said so."

She turned to Lisa and said, "Come on, Lisa. We're leaving." I said a quick goodbye to Lisa, and they left Beth and I alone.

Beth and I had a very nice dinner and a good laugh. We still joke about it to this day.

A Piece of Work

Email Submitted by Dawn:

There's a picture on your profile that I want a higher res image of.  Can you send it to me?  I think you know the one.  You are so beautiful I stared at it for an hour today no joke.

Once you send it to me I will print it out big and frame it in my home.  What I don't get it people have images of random history people in their houses in portraits all the time.  Why not have pictres of people we know.  I want a picture of you and you will send it to me I will frame it and look at it.

You're welcome for the compliment.  I would also like to get to know you better.  Perhaps beauty is more than skin deep?

Randal

A Failing Grade in Cross-Country

Story Submitted by Kaitlin:

Roy was a childhood friend of mine with whom I grew up. We went to the same high school but separate colleges, although we stayed in touch on a pretty regular basis.

One day, I returned from class to find him in my room. He said, "Surprise! Your roommate let me in."

I hugged him and asked what he was doing at my school. "You're not just here to see me, I hope," I said, "It's great to see you, but I have a week full of classes."

He said, "I am just here to see you. Take the week off!"

I asked him, "Are you on some sort of break? How did you get a whole week off?"

He said, "You can call it a break. I just wanted to be closer to my girl."

Roy and I were, and always had been, friends. Any discomfort I was already feeling was ticking slowly upward. I asked, "You're dating someone here?"

He slapped his knees and said, "You! I figured why not make it official, after all this time?"

"Make what official? Us? There is no 'us' in that sense. We're just friends."

He said, "Well, maybe a week will change your mind."

I asked, "I don't think so. Where are you going to stay?"

He looked around the room and said, "Here! Duh."

I replied, "I don't know if that's such a good idea. You can spend the night, but after that, you have to find another place."

He shook his head and lowered his tone. "I took the week off to see you. I'm sacrificing good grades so we can be together."

I said, "I'm sorry. I have to be firm on that."

He said, "Well, after tonight, maybe you'll change your tune."

I didn't. Mostly because he tried to climb into bed with me a half-dozen times that night. I kicked him out in the morning, and told him that I would see him that summer, once we were reunited with all of our friends back home.

I didn't see him that summer, as it turned out. He followed some girl at his college back to her home state and stayed there with her the whole time. Whenever I contacted him, he never replied.

Hey, That's Not a Time Period

Email Submitted by Carlo:

What's your favorite time period? Mine's before and after life- the death world, wherever that may be. We should time travel together there sometime.

Sasha

That Won't Come Out in the Wash

Story Submitted by Jason:

Rita and I became hot and heavy pretty quickly. Racy emails and phone calls turned into a very intense first date. We were both very into each other, although it turned out that she was a bit more into me.

As out first date hadn't ventured much out of her bedroom, we went out to dinner for our second date. The entire time, she smiled as of she was positively giddy to be there — or as if she had a secret to tell.

Once we sat down, she said, "I have something to show you," then rolled up her left sleeve to reveal my name, carved into her flesh.

My breath caught in my throat, and I froze up.  It was one of the most terrifying moments I can remember, mostly because I didn't know what to do.

I started, "What the f–" then stopped, thought for a second, and said, "That's a little freaky."

She glanced at it and said, "I went through pain for you, and that's what you have to say?"

I thought again, then said, "Yeah.  That's what I have to say.  Please get help," and I left her there.  I never heard from her again, and I hope that she got the help she needed.

Party of the Lost

Email Submitted by Theo:

Happy fahthers day! Oh what! You don't have kids? I can relate! I want to have kids over to my house for the day and I have chips and cookies and video games all I need is the kids!

You don't have kids you say but you have neices, nephews, and maybe you can all come to my party! I miss not having kids (I had some but they ran) and just a nice party for the day! Handsome man lol.

Gloria

Doctors Everywhere, Take Note

Email Submitted by Hanna:

Your profile says that you're a doctor. That's good news, as I need one who won't charge me an arm and a leg (haha). Do you give free care to your friends? And if so, maybe we can be friends.

My medical bills aren't super-high, but let's just say I can use a friend who's a doctor. Needless to say, I can't pay in money but I can help out with chores, errands, servitude, vagina-filling (hey doctors need sex too right? Must be a stressful job and as a doctor you must know that sex is a huge stress reliever! I use it to relieve my medical stress all the time and it works great for me. Would work great for you too but again this is just an offer). I can't pay in money.

Good deal? I think so especially for you, doctor.

Greg

Wet and Hot, But Not in the Good Way

Story Submitted by Andrea:

Glen and I were out to dinner on our first date. We were at a pub, and he was enjoying a steady supply of beers. He was very into sports, which he had neglected to mention in his profile or messages. He was certainly making up for it during our conversation, though.

"I hope to god you're not a Yankee fan," he said, "Or I'll have to end this date, then kill you."

Charmed. Nice of him to end the date first, though. Wouldn't want that hanging over his head. He emptied another beer, then said, "You're too cute to be a Yankee fan, though. Yankee fans are all ugly buttfucks." He started on another beer, and went on about this or that.

After a couple of minutes, his speaking became labored and he twitched. Then, an awful rumbling noise sounded across the table. It took me a second to realize that it was his gut, and it was clearly enraged. A moment later, he had turned a ghastly pale, said, "Ulp," and puked all over our table.

I shot up, grabbed a handful of napkins from a nearby waiters' station, and threw as many of them onto the quarts of bile that had christened our eating area.

I told him, "We need to get you out of here."

He was able to bark out, "More beer!" then break into laughter.

I asked him once more, "Are you coming with me or am I leaving you here? Come on." I took his arm, but he yanked himself away and banged on the table with his fist. I was done with him, and so I left.

How Planet Racism Starts

Story Submitted by Ted:

Amy and I met via a popular dating site. She was extremely extroverted and had a very distinctive personality. In one of my first messages to her, I asked her where she was from, and she replied, "Ohio's where I grew up, but I'm originally from somewhere else. I don't think I'm allowed to tell you where."

I thought it was just Amy being Amy, and we ended up on a date together at a sidewalk cafe overlooking a river. It was a warm night, and we had a good discussion until somehow or other, we made it back to the topic of origins.

I asked her, "What was it like to grow up in Ohio?"

She replied, "It wasn't so bad," then she leaned in and said, "But truth be told, I'm not really an earthling."

"Come again?"

She said, "I was looking through some old papers, and I found my actual birth certificate. It was printed on red paper and in a language I didn't understand. I brought it to a college professor of mine who specialized in languages, and she said that it was Martian."

"Martian?"

"You know, from Mars? I'm not of planet Earth, technically. I'm an alien."

I laughed at the joke, but she said, "I'm actually dead serious."

I said, "And how did your parents make it to Mars to copulate in the first place?"

She said, "You don't have to believe me. I know the truth. I was born on Mars. I'm a Martian citizen."

"Okay."

"I'm a Martian citizen."

"Okay. So, tell me about the research work you do."

"I'm a Martian citizen, Ted!"

"I believe you. You're also a writer, aren't you? Tell me more about that."

"I'm a Martian. I'm a Martian."

I said nothing more. She tilted her head down and stared at me for a while, letting what sounded like a short laugh out every few moments.

Finally, she said, "That does it. You fail. And I need to feed," then stood, drank all of her water down, and left. She had eaten most of the salad that was in front of her, and so my only guess is that it was a Martian thing.

In Need of Repairs

Story Submitted by Murray:

Dinah, who I had spoken to for weeks on a dating site, called to ask me if I could meet her at a local motel later that day.  It sounded like an unusual place to meet, but I figured that once there, we could go off to dinner or what-have-you.

When I arrived in the dingy lobby, she introduced herself, then led me out to a rear parking lot.  She said, "My brother's having trouble with his jeep.  Maybe you can help."

I've worked on home heating and cooling systems for a long time, but I've never really worked on vehicles before.  Dinah's brother's jeep had its hood open, a small pile of parts on a towel next to it, and her brother himself was covered in grease from head to toe.  He shook my hand and said, "Ready to work?"

I wasn't, as I was dressed for a date with Dinah.  I told him, "I don't know what Dinah told you, but I'm not too great with jeeps.  Sorry."

He said, "I can use an extra pair of hands, and Dinah's about to head out."

I said, "I know.  I'm her date."

"Date?" he asked, then he turned to Dinah.  "What's he talking about?  You said you called your mechanic friend from college to help me out.  This isn't him?" he pointed to me.

She said, "Well, Murray works on HVAC systems.  I thought it would help."

I said to her, "They're completely different, and we didn't meet in college."

She said to me, "You're such an asshole."

I asked, "What?"

Her brother said, "And what did he mean, he's your 'date'?"

She said to her brother, "Fine.  I'll stay here and help you."

He raised his voice.  "I want to know what he meant by 'date.'  You playing around on me?"

Ah.  Turned out, Dinah's "brother" wasn't her brother after all.  He was her boyfriend.  What Dinah had hoped would happen by inviting me over, other than a major conflict, I didn't know. 

Her "brother" and herself yelled back and forth at each other, and I excused myself as quickly as possible and drove away.

Apologies, Comrade Stalin

E-mail Submitted by Danny:

No joke - I just graduated law school and I can probably get you prosecuted for at least six things on your profile, as it stands right now.  Libel, slander, harassment, sexual harassment, invasion of privacy, and fraud.

You're on this site looking for a woman, right?  So you resort to fraud to ensnare one.  You mention a few of the thigns you want in a woman: harassment/sexual harassment.  You even say, "I'm tired of the disrespect I found in past relationships" - hello libel/slander, anyone???  Also, every time you ask someone a personal detail, that's invasion of privacy!

Not just your profile - many of them are like this, but I felt you should know that you're liable to be prosecuted if you leave it up this way.  Change it up!  Or be prosecuted.  Your choice!

Angie

Why I Have a New Watering Hole

Story Submitted by Mila:

I was working in a sports bar in college when I met Stan.  He was very nice and didn't seem to drink much.  He confessed that he liked me and one night, he asked me if I wanted to hang out with him and his friends over cards and barbecue.  I was starting to like him, so I told him that I'd meet him at his friend's house after my shift ended.

As promised, I went to his friend's house.  Surprisingly, Stan wasn't there.  I didn't ask about him, though, as I didn't want to seem desperate because I was starting to like him.

A couple of hours later, someone got a phone call and said that Stan needed a ride.  One of his friends and I volunteered to go.  I wanted to see him, and I was also the only sober one, so I drove.

We met him on the other side of town in a Burger King parking lot.  He sprinted to my car, jumped in the back seat, and yelled, "Go, go, go!"

He reeked of alcohol.  He turned to his friend and said, "Oh, man, you should have seen this bitch, she was so fucking fat!  I was fucking her and I accidentally put it in her ass and she puked then passed out so I fucking bolted! Holy shit, man! Holy shit!"

He then turned to me and asked, "Who are you?"  I didn't reply.  He leaned in closer to me, said, "Oh, shit," and didn't speak for the rest of the car ride.  He never came into the bar after that, and I never saw him again.

Panic at the Swing Dance

Story Submitted by Denise:

Bill and I met at a college swing dance and we were an even pairing in terms of dancing skill set.  We both had a great time, and he asked me out to a dance at a local hall the following week.

The week went by, and the night of the dance came.  We pulled out all the stops.  He was a great partner, and I was amazed at how quickly I was falling for him.  The dimly-lit room was full of other couples and he introduced me to several of his friends who were regular dancers.

We took a short break and were sitting when he looked around the room and stared at a dancing couple across the dance floor: a short, brown-haired girl and a bearded guy.  I asked, "Friends of yours?"

Bill stood, thundered across the dance floor, ripped the couple apart, and punched the guy's head twice.  A few people screamed, and Bill tore out of there.  The bearded guy ran after him.  The music kept going, but no one was dancing anymore.  They all watched after Bill and the bearded guy.

I remained sitting there for another song or two, trying to collect my thoughts.  Most people had gone back to dancing at that point, and I thought about approaching the brown-haired girl, but then thought better of it.  Without anything else to do, I left.

Bill never called me, although I did encounter him months later at another college dance.  We exchanged pleasantries and I asked him, "What was that all about, the night of that dance?"

He said, "Yeah," and then excused himself.  I never found out, although I can guess.

Tales From the Discount Boystore

E-mail Submitted by Daisy:

You would make a choice lifemate.  I believe that you can teach me eveything you know and it sure seems like you know a lot.  I've been to the girlstore before and bought me some real cows but you seem different

They say "oh i'm thin" biut by the third date theyre fat.  They have pics of themselves not being hairy and then hey whats this theres hair all over you. "My fmaily's all good people" but then why is dad/brother chasing me out of your house with a rake?  i did nothing to him.  Bullshit.

i'm real good to my ladies and the ones who leave satisfied are so happy.  i just haven't found my the one you know?  who knows, maybe she's you.  I hope so i'm tired of waiting for ones ass. LOL

Kyle

Why They're Sold in Separate Aisles

Story Submitted by James:

Ellen and I were out to dinner and were in the middle of a conversation over our food when she stopped talking and sniffed her right armpit, then her left one.

"Phew," she said, "Excuse me a sec," and she stood up with her purse and went to the bathroom.  I thought it was weird, but as I hadn't smelled her myself, I couldn't tell if her actions were warranted.

She returned smelling like she had poured a bottle of air freshener all over herself.  "I'm back, and much better," she said.  The new scent was overpowering, like concentrated ammonia, but floral-scented.  I found it hard to breathe, and my eyes watered.  She noticed pretty quickly and asked, "What's wrong?"

I said, "Something smells like a thousand rose gardens, all crammed into a single scent."

She smiled and said, "You like it?  Cheaper than perfume."  She pulled out a red mini-can of air freshener from her purse, and sprayed some on her neck and blouse.

"No!  God, please!" I shouted, maybe a bit too loudly.

"What's wrong?  You don't like it, now?"

I had to breathe through my mouth, but even that was terrible, as the air was thick and misty with the aroma.  I excused myself to go outside for a few moments.

When I came back, her food was bagged up and she was putting money on the table.  I asked her, "What's wrong?"

She stood up and said, "I don't need dramatics.  Have a nice life," and left me, there and then.

I was glad that she left, as she would be taking the smell with her.  Still, the air was full of it, and I paid as quickly as I could for my part of the meal and left.

Accidents Happen

Story Submitted by Peggy:

I arrived early at the restaurant where Ari was to meet me for our date.  He called me and I picked up.

"Hey, Peg.  I'm going to be an extra minute or two.  You there yet?"

I replied, "Yes.  I'll meet you here."

He said, "Cool, I just–AAAAAAAAAGH!" then the sound of a horrifying slam.

"Ari!" I shouted into the phone, "Are you okay?"

After a moment, he said, "I was just in an accident," then hung up.

I was stunned, and I wrote him a text: "Please let me know you're okay as soon as you can."  I then left for home.  What else could I do?

He called an hour later.  I asked him, "What happened?"

He said, "Sorry, I was just driving and I–YAAAAAAAAAGH!" then another slam.  He yelled, "Fuck!  Another accident!  I'll call you back."  He hung up on me again.  This time, I was pretty sure that he was playing me, and I didn't contact him, nor did I hear from him ever again.

Then I Shelved the "Controlled Substances" Section

E-mail Submitted by Mark:

Its time for a date with me.  I work at a bookstore as a chelver.  I chelve all day and all night with no break or rest.  I'm the best clehver there ever was.  I want to uvt with a bachelors in compsci and now i chelve books as a chelver.

I realized that things weren't so hot when I chelved books in the compsci section of the bookstore yesterdsay.  I thought wtf am I doing not doing compsci?  So I'm back on the comp and thought I'd message you first  How are youu doing?  Maybe i'll start my own dating website haha.  Maybe I'll ask you to be on it haha.  A dating website of just us two haha.

haha.  Do you have a favorite book?  I can get it for you.  and to keep not like at a library where ou have other peopls fingers and coughs and seemen all over the book.  I want to start my own biusness that much is clear.  I'm motivated.  So what motivates you?  -wingwang -motive

Claire

How the Mighty Have Not Fallen

Story Submitted by Gilbert:

For our first meeting, Janice and I had a pleasant chat over coffee, then went for a stroll.  As we walked, Janice stumbled on the sidewalk, did a comical flailing thing, and then smashed onto the ground.

I dove to her side and asked, "Are you okay?"

She was, although her pants were torn, and she had a light scrape.  But that wasn't the worst part.

"You pushed me!" she accused.

"No, I didn't," I said, stunned by her accusation, "You tripped and fell."

"You pushed me, you fucking pushed me," she yelled, scrambling to her feet.

I said, "If I had pushed you, you would have felt me pushing you.  You just fell."

She shouted, "See how you like it!" then shoved my chest.  I didn't fall down, although I stepped back a little bit.  She shoved me again, then karate chopped my chest several times.  She screamed, "Why won't you fall?"

I laughed at her, she clenched her fists, and I anticipated a punch or three, but instead, she stomped away.  I called after her, but she didn't stop, and so ended our wonderful encounter.

What Despair Sounds Like

E-mail Submitted by Charles:

You're a handsome guy.  What are you doing on this site?  I must conclude that it has something to do with your personality, but according to the way you represent yourself, you're flawless.  I must therefore conclude that you're lying.  Don't contact me.

Grace

Coming in at Number One, It's...

E-mail Submitted by Gina:

Poor you poor you all alone on this site
Poor you poor you all alone to-night
Poor you poor you hey you just might
Come over and sleep with me.

Something in my pants is thick
Something there will do the trick
Hey there I think it's my dick
Come over and sleep with me

Your hands on my thighs and pecs
Enjoy the pleasing effects
Of a night that's filled with sex
Come over and sleep with me

Dwight

A Bang-Up Job

Story Submitted by Marlon:

Tiffany had a well-written profile up on a dating site.  Of particular interest was a part that read, "I had a gun pointed at me and lived to tell the tale."

I wrote her a message, including a statement along the lines of, "What a horrific experience that must have been.  What were the circumstances?"  I asked because I guessed that she wouldn't have put it up if she didn't feel like sharing.

Turns out, she didn't feel like sharing.  At least, not just yet.  She replied, "I don't want to talk about it.  It was a horrible experience, though."

Why write it in your profile if you don't want people drawing attention to it?  Anyway, she seemed more than willing to talk about everything else, and so I asked her out.

My first indication that things weren't all in order came soon after we sat down to dinner.  She asked, "I brought money, but you're paying for this, right?"

I stammered a, "Y-um, yeah."

She smiled and replied, "Good.  At least I didn't suffer needlessly.  You know, with the gun pointed at me and everything."

"Yeah, tell me about that."

She said, "Maybe some other time.  It still affects me a lot, though."  She opened up her menu and asked me what I recommended.  I mentioned three dishes I had previously tried from that place, and she said, "Ooh!  Maybe I can get all three of them?"  She looked up at me.

"Uh, if you want.  I think I'll only pay for one of them, though."

She frowned at me and asked, "Did I mention that I had a gun pointed at me?  I've probably lost years of my life from the fear alone."

I said, "And this somehow gives you special life privileges?"

She didn't answer that, but said, "After this, I was thinking we could hit up the Pavilion."  The Pavilion was a local mall, a place I didn't imagine as a suitable setting for a date.  She went on, "It won't take long, if you don't like the idea.  I just thought, seeing as I had a gun pointed at me, that we could make the time."

I said, "Sure.  Whatever."

She only ordered one entree, and after dinner, sure enough, we ended up at the mall.  As soon as we walked in to a Talbot's she looked around and said, "I wonder if anyone in here has ever had a gun pointed at them before."

After she looked around for a few minutes, I told her, "Tiffany, I'm going to head out, but it was nice meeting you."  I pointed at her, making a quick hand gesture not unlike that of a finger-gun.

She looked at it, gasped and said, "That's un-fucking-necessary.  Put your hand down!"

I made the same gesture with my other hand, then yelled, "Bang!  Bang!  Bang!  Bang!  Bang!" and pretended to shoot her.

She yelled something, shoved past me, and stormed into the mall.  Oops.  Guess she was kind of sensitive about that sort of thing.  Seeing as she had a gun pointed at her and all.

A Scarring Experience

Story Submitted by Brenna:

While exploring online dating, I contacted Trevor, a gentlemen whose profile looked promising.

From Trevor's information, he seemed like a stable 38-year-old. A double kidney and pancreas transplant survivor, he was living with “a new lease on life,” so I felt that he would possess a heightened level of emotional maturity.

While Trevor matched many qualities I sought, red flags waved when he ended his emails with, "You're perfect for me, and from the look of things, I'm ring shopping," and, "You're the one; I've found you."  I dismissed these comments as simple enthusiasm.

After a week of email exchanges, I convinced myself that any misgivings I had for him were outweighed by his positive qualities, and I finally agreed to Trevor's eager suggestions of meeting. We planned to have our first date over drinks.

When we met, his excitement for me was palpable. He hugged and swayed me in his arms longer than was comfortable, but I still chalked it up to first date jitters. However, I realized my original misgivings held weight as the minutes ticked by.

Casually chatting over beers, I found him staring at my body and licking his lips repeatedly.  He said, "Seriously, you're the one. I can stop dating now."

I replied, "Thanks, but you're still getting to know me; I have pros and cons."

Trevor said, "Well, I am a double transplant survivor!" He pulled up his shirt and pulled down his jeans, which revealed the top edge of his pubic hair. There was his transplant scar. He shouted, "Naval to penis, baby, yeah!" While I think any person who has gone through such an ordeal should feel no shame, I nonetheless think that there is a time and place for such displays. This was neither.

Not long after, he escorted me to his car to drive me to another bar. He opened the passenger-side door, so I thanked him and got in. As I grabbed my seat belt, he walked to the driver's side and pounded on the window.  I looked to see Trevor through the driver's door, his face crimson and trembling.

He said, "Can we say rude? Do you mind opening the door for me?" I unbuckled myself and reached over to open his door.

Once inside, he fumed, "Talk about clueless. I open the door for you and you can't return a fucking favor? Christ." He silently drove us to the next bar. My biggest fan had become my newest enemy.

Not long after we arrived at the new bar, it was clear that he planned to be upset with me for the remainder of the night, and so I ended the date.

Not What Zeus Had in Mind

Story Submitted by Roxie:

This happened right after the Clash of the Titans remake was released. Clark and I were on our first date, and he took me out to see that film and then have dinner afterward.

The movie was okay, and Clark liked it a lot more than I did. He especially seemed to like the kraken, the giant, aquatic beast of many tentacles that Perseus fought in the film.

After it was over and we were walking down the sidewalk to dinner, Clark shouted, "Release the kraken!" and farted loud enough to be heard across the street. Someone even cheered for him. He gave me a look and said, "Sorry. The kraken had to be released."

I said, "It's okay. You done?"

He shouted, "Release the kraken!" once more, and another large fart burst out of his pants.

"Oh, for God's sake," I said, and hurried along in front of him.

He caught up and said, "Sorry. The kraken just has to be released."

I said, "That's enough, now." He apologized again and we made it to dinner without further incident.

At dinner, we had just ordered drinks when he said, "Release the kraken!" and farted again. He giggled.

I said, "If you don't stop, then I'm leaving."

He said, "Don't go. We just ordered drinks, and this is on me."

I said, "Thank you, but I don't care. It's disgusting. I—"

"Release the kraken!" he yelled, and this last one was loud enough to make other patrons turn their heads. He sank down in his seat and murmured, "Sorry, everybody."

I stood up and said, "Have a good night, Clark."

He said, "I just can't stop releasing the kraken! Release the kraken!"

Another fart, followed by laughter. I was out of there.

Why Don't You Have a Profile Up Anymore?

E-mail Submitted by Gerry:

I've been checking out your profile for months, part of me frightened to death that your profile will disappear, the other part frightened of what you'd say if I messaged you. I've finally worked up the courage!

I think our kids (a boy and girl, one for each of us) will love the idea that we met online. Our parents are soooo cooool! they'll say. We'll tell them the story over and over until they're dead and when it's time to start a new family, we will also start our destinies anew as animals that can't be caught until sundown, but then we'll be far away in our nest on a long abandoned prairie with a sunset bathing our feathers, never truly dying, but alive with the life of the world!

I can answer any questions you might have about this beautiful sequence. I can't wait to hear from you.

Carla

Somebody Call Lacuna, Inc.

Story Submitted by Chuck:

When I went to pick up Martha for our first date, I brought her a small bouquet of flowers, as she had said that she liked lilies and daffodils.

I arrived at her place, she opened her door, and gave me a big hug.  She took the bouquet and said, "Thanks for all the flowers this week."

I asked, "What flowers?"

She beckoned to me, and I followed her in.  On her dining room table were bunches and bunches of flowers in vases of water, all of which were lovely, but none of which had I sent her.  I said, "Maybe it's a secret admirer.  Not me, though."

She gave me a look, then turned to the flowers, apparently thinking.  Then comprehension seemed to wash over her face.  She said, "Oh, yes.  I know who sent them."  She turned to me and went on, "Yeah, so I forgot.  There's this other guy you don't know.  He and I–well, I think that I'm going to pursue things with him, instead.  Sorry."

She walked me to the door, and I was almost too confused to speak.  Almost.  I said, "Are you kidding me?  You expect me to believe that you forgot about this other guy until just now?"

She said, "You can believe whatever.  Thanks for coming by!" then gave me a gentle push out of her house and closed the door.  I stood on the stoop long enough for her to open the door again, say, "Sorry, you can take these," hand me my bouquet back, and shut it once more.

I felt as if I had been blindsided by an elephant, but went home and gave the flowers to an attractive coworker at work the next day, so at least something good came of it.

I Did Read About You. On the Police Blotter.

E-mail Submitted by Tanya:

Henry is my name.  You might have heard of my exploits - first Henry to message you on a dating site?  No?  Okay!  But maybe I am!

I hold three world records for sitting still, and have climbed up pebbles!  Gross note: might have masturbated to mom's high school picture when I was a teenager, but I didn't know it was her at the time.  Truce?

So I assume that you've had sex with every guy in every picture with you on your profile.  Maybe you haven't, but news flash: that's what guys think when they look at your profile photos.  Maybe you should think about changing them up, k?

You're welcome for that tip.  You can pay me back.  Let me know when you wanna meet.  I have lots of options.

Henry

Race to Florida

E-mail Submitted by Boris:

boryboris:

saw ur race car last week and i thought "hey that guy looks familiar"!  i was real impresed with ur moves!.

they say that racers are real good lovers but i dont what the fuck sicko dont even think about it go to florida and dont contact me ever again!.

Emily


************************
(Boris says: "I don't have a race car, unless you count the little one I made in woodshop in high school, going back 10 years.  I'm glad she was impressed with it, in any case."

Nice to Meat You

Story Submitted by Anne:

Dennis and I were at lunch on a first date when out of the blue he asked, "Have you ever eaten intestines?"

I glanced down at my pasta, then back up at him.  "Not that I recall.  Have you?"

He held up a finger, stood up, and said, "I'll be right back."  He excused himself from the table and left the restaurant.

He called me about 10 minutes later to say that he'd be back shortly.  I asked him where he was, but he wouldn't say.  We hung up and I finished my pasta without him.

He returned not long after with a tied white plastic bag and a big smile.  He sat down and handed it to me.  "Open it," he said.

I did, and inside was... meat.  Wrapped in plastic wrap.

"What's this?" I asked him, the possibility of a second date growing smaller by the second.

"Intestines, like we were discussing," he said, as if this was a commonplace situation for him, then he shouted, "Meat!" at me.

I asked, "I see.  And why did you bring these to me?"

He stared at me for a moment, then yelled, "Meat!" once more, followed up by a slow nodding of the head.

"I see.  Thanks.  Can we get the check?"

We did, and when we made it outside, I handed him the bag and said, "Here, you can have this back."

He looked down at it and frowned at me.  "But... meat," he said.

"Yes, Dennis.  Meat.  Would you mind taking it?  I don't see myself eating it.  Sorry."

He shrugged, said, "More for me," and took it, then bowed low and said, "Nice meeting you," then walked away.  Looking back on it, I still feel as though I walked onto the set of The Twilight Zone.

Can't Trust Those Surfer Guys

Story Submitted by Heath:

Audrey, who I met online, was a huge fan of the beach.  All of her profile photos were of her on a sandy background.  Over the course of our conversations, she asked me if I liked to surf.  Aside from using boogie boards once or twice, I had no experience surfing, and told her so.  She either didn't read or else didn't acknowledge that fact.

When I asked her out, she asked if we could hit, of course, the shore.  I liked the idea, and after a day or two, we met up at the beach.

She was already there when I arrived, standing next to a big green and pink surfboard, chatting up two guys.  She ran over to me, introduced herself, and asked, "Did you bring your board?"

I said, "I don't have a board."

"I could swear you said you had a board."

"Perhaps you mistook my 'I don't have a board' with 'I have a board.'"

She said, "It's okay.  You can borrow my spare."  She had brought an extra board in her vehicle, a white and green one.

I grabbed it and thanked her, but reminded her, "I've never used a surfboard before."

"It's okay," she said, then ran for the water with hers.

There were plenty of other surfers out that day, and I gave it my all, my all being about what you can expect from a first-time surfer.  I tried surfing near her and talking to her, but she was focused on her own technique.

I asked her for tips several times, but her idea of help was her saying, "Watch me," then me watching her perform a maneuver that was well beyond my skill level.  I tried, but this was all new to me.  I focused on the basics and tried to have a good time.

As evening rolled around, I reflected on a day full of failed surfing attempts, although a day at the beach was never a bad day, and I had enjoyed the setting, even though Audrey herself seemed less than interested in me and more than interested in talking to the guys she had spoken to when I first encountered her.

When we made it back to shore, some folks had made a bonfire and were sitting around with guitars and drums.  I sat next to Audrey, handed her some snacks and a thick towel I had brought, and tried to enjoy myself and engage her in conversation.  It didn't help that all she wanted to talk about was surfing, and also that a surfer guy sat on the other side of her, flirting up a storm.

A bottle of vodka was passed around, and at some point Audrey and the guy started making out.  I stood up, asked her for my towel back, she gave it to me, asked me to call her, and went right back to business.

If I had actually cared about her, it would have bothered me, but hell, I had a nice day at the beach, so that's what I'll remember.

Why Is This Dead Girl on the Sidewalk?

Story Submitted by Kevin:

Back in college, I asked Denise out and before the date, inquired as to whether she preferred a particular cuisine for our first dinner date.  She said that she liked Italian.  When I met her at the Italian place I had picked, she said, "This place isn't going to work.  It's Italian."

I said, "Yes, like you asked."

She said, "I never said Italian.  I said Chinese."

"I'm pretty sure you said Italian."  She then held her breath.  I asked, "What are you doing?"  She kept holding her breath and I asked, "Why are you–Denise, what the hell?"

She said, "Are we doing Chinese?"

I said, "Yes!  Yes!  Fine!"  She gasped for air.  I asked, "Were you going to hold your breath until I said that Chinese was fine?"

She nodded and said, "It's how I get my way."

I laughed and asked, "Are you six or something?"  She held her breath again.  I began, "Denise, come on, you–" but then I stopped myself.  I walked away from that nutjob, and never saw her again.

Doesn't Being on Geraldo Undermine Your Claim?

E-mail Submitted by Cindy:

THIS IS TRUTH: I am a real superhero.  I have powers that can bend steel with heat and burn bridges down!  It's important for me to keep my powerrs under control and so

THIS IS TRUTH: Women are scared of my powers but why don't be I onlhy hurt evildoers and your not an evildoer ARE YOU

THIS IS TRUTH: I was on hard copy current affair and geraldo with my powers.  I made him float!

AM I LIES: No!  But you should let me show you TRUTH in person.

Drake

A Third Wheel at My Own Date

Story Submitted by Gerardo:

Christine was just out of a breakup and so she did a good amount of venting at me when we started talking online.  She and her ex were still on speaking terms, but it sounded like every little thing he did annoyed her.  I suggested that she needed some space away from him.  She agreed, and after several conversations, she brought him up less and less.

After a week, she said that she hadn't contacted him at all, and I told her that I was proud of her.  We arranged a date at a restaurant for that weekend.

When I arrived there, I found her already seated in a booth, next to some guy with long hair and a goatee.  She stood up, pointed to the guy, and said to me, "This is David, my ex."

I froze up, but shook his hand when he extended it.  She sat down, but I didn't.  I asked her, "What's this about?"

She said, "David just wants to make sure that you're a good guy, and that you'll treat me as well as he did."

"Sit," David said.

I remained standing.  "I don't think this is a good idea."

"Why not?" she asked, "David knows me better than anyone."  David put an arm around her and squeezed her, almost as if they were still a couple.

I said, "I don't think I'm up for this.  Sorry," and I left.

Christine followed me outside.  She asked, "What's your problem?  He's just worried about me."

I shook my head and said, "You're obviously still crazy about each other, and I'm just getting in the way."

She said, "But I'm not crazy about him!  I hate him!  I do!"  She started to cry, and I hugged her, right there, on the street.

After a few moments, I said, "You should probably resolve everything with him before looking to date again."

She said, "I guess," then drew away from me, said, "Thank you," and went back inside.

Never heard from her again, but I hope that she worked things out.

And This Would Lower My Stress?

E-mail Submitted by Barbara:

I want 2 put my hands all over u..... cause i'm a masseur!  I masseur people's backs and fronts!  I work with a team of masseurs and masseuses (people who massage other people).  I want to massage u u seem busy and stress.

At work sometimes the guy masseurs want 2 massage me but i'm not gay! lol!  The masseuses all want to massage me 2 but we work together and sex at work is not cool I keep it professional at all times.  The answer: One time I had sex with a masseuse at work and a masseur walked in and watched us finish!  He was like "I WANT 2 JOIN IN" but we were allready together and i'm not no not gay.

Massages don't always lead to sex but its nice when they do.  Like a massage in and out!  No more stress and u seem stress.... what 2 do...... lol.

Dan

You Could Be My Mom. Please Don't Be.

E-mail Submitted by Ron:

(Ron says: "This woman's profile listed her as a 60-year-old.  I'm 25.")

****************************

Helllllllo!  I may be a bit older but I'm young at heart! (age is a state of mind, really).  I have plenty of exp. and can teach you lots!

I look young for my age (age is a state of mind, remember!) and am frequently mistaken for a 30!  I work out a lot and can keep up with any workout you dish ;).  Don't worry about my coochee.. she's still nice and wet!  Try it!

When can we meet?  Public place plz.

Sara

Snake in the Grass

Story Submitted by Marc:

Allison and I had been on several dates.  I was falling for her, but she was a little hard to read.  I figured that I had nothing to lose by bringing her out stargazing on one of the warmest nights of the year, and making my intentions clear.

I drove her a little out of town to a field I knew, spread out a blanket and some snacks, and we lay down.  I took her hand and kissed it, and she slid closer to me.  It was a cloudless night, full of stars, and everything was just perfect.

Then, she jumped.  "Shit," she whispered, "Did you feel that?"

I sat up.  "No.  What is it?"

"I felt something move underneath me."

"Let's move the blanket."

We stood up and gathered up the blanket.  I turned on my flashlight, which was probably a mistake, and shone it down on the ground.

Two garter snakes, which had been under the blanket, slithered quickly into a hole in the ground.  They startled me, for sure.  Allison yelped and tore off, into the field.

"Allison!" I called after her, "It's okay!  Come back!"

She didn't.  I crumpled the blanket and food into a ball and jogged after her, in the direction I thought she went.  I called for her for a while, shining my flashlight everywhere, but she didn't answer, and after several minutes, I had no idea where she was.

"I'll wait for you by the car!" I yelled into the darkness.  I figured that she'd have to come back there, eventually.  Of course, my cell phone had little to no reception out there, although I did get through once and left a message.

I returned to the car and put the lights on.  She didn't show up, and finally, I grew tired of waiting and went out to look for her again.  I called and called, but there was no response.  I must have searched up and down every inch of that field for at least two hours.

Finally, deciding that she'd likely be back at the car by then, I went back to it.  She wasn't there.  I climbed inside to wait, and must have fallen asleep, as the next thing I knew, it was morning, and the windows were all fogged up.

She wasn't in the car.  I jumped out, called for her, and she answered me.  I looked around, and there she was, in a nearby tree, about 15 feet up.

I helped her down and asked her, "Didn't you hear me when I called for you?  I was searching the field for hours, and I left the car lights on."

She said, "I know.  It was a little obsessive and weird, so I climbed up in the tree and prayed that you wouldn't find me."

I laughed.  She had to have been joking.  She wasn't.  She went on, "It's a little possessive and weird that you wouldn't stop looking for me."

I said, "I was worried about you.  Should I have not cared and just driven away?"

She said, "No, but just going back to the car to wait was all you had to do.  I was more afraid of you than of the snakes."

We drove back to civilization in relative silence.  I dropped her off at her house and received a text from her not too long after: "You didn't have to leave a voicemail.  Obsessive much?"

The whole situation turned me off to ever wanting to see her again, which, I guess, is exactly what she wanted.

I'm Sure He'll Find What He Seeks

Story Submitted by Ashlyn:

Chad and I met on a dating site, and it wasn't long before he invited me out for coffee.  He was a little younger than I was, but he seemed nice, and I wanted to give him a chance.

We met up outside in the evening and were a few blocks away from the cafe.  As we walked, we passed some brick civic building with an iron bar fence on either side of its driveway. 

Chad jumped behind the fence and said, "Look!  I'm in jail!"

I gave a short laugh and continued walking.  He hung back and said, "Hey, aren't you going to help me?"

I turned around and, playing along, said, "Why would I?  You obviously deserve to be there."

He stepped away from the bars and said, "Or maybe you're the one in prison.  For being a bitch!"

Still playing along, I said, "You're imprisoned here, with me, so I guess that makes you a bitch, too."

He said, "You can be my bitch.  Bitch."  He then beckoned to me from his side of the fence.  It was off the street, and I wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea, so I shook my head and said, "No.  You come over here."

He gave me a smirk, then unzipped his pants and said, "But I've got to make you my bitch."

I gasped and stepped away.  "I don't think we're really ready for that.  Prison or not."

"But we're in prison!  And you're my bitch!  You're my bitch!"

My, I thought, what a strange series of words to say to someone on a first date.  I dropped the game and said, "Chad, come on back over.  Let's keep going.  Zip it up."

He grabbed the iron bars like a desperate prisoner and howled, "I need my bitch!  Where's my bitch?  Where's my prison bitch?"

"Chad," I yelled, "Cut it out and get over here."

He zipped up his pants, moped over, and dragged his feet all the way to the cafe.  He offered to buy me coffee to make up for his behavior, and I let him do it, even though I was sure that there wouldn't be a second date.

We spoke quietly for several minutes, then, in the middle of our conversation, he stood up, straightened out his clothes, and said, "I just wanted you as my prison bitch," then took a drink from his coffee, put his cup back on the table, and left.

I remained behind, finished my drink, threw our cups out, and went home to bed, in a vain attempt to forget that the prior evening had happened in the first place.

Does That Include You?

E-mail Submitted by John:

John:

Thanks for the good time on Friday night.  I had a lot of fun with you and I'd love to see you again.

One thing has been bothering me since then though.  You said that you wanted to rise through the ranks at work to become department head.  This makes me think that you'll be a dreary potential husband and a stern disciplinarian with any future kids.  I don't think that you're a good match for me.

But wait!  You also siad that you like doing "family things," whatever those are.  I know you listed some but I don't remember any of them.  The fact that I can't remember them makes me think that you suck, and you suck large.  Once you stop sucking, find a girl who won't mind so much!

Also, those statues you were talking about?  They suck too.  Everything sucks.

Amelia

For the Birds

Story Submitted by Risa:

Nick and I were out on a walk on our first date, when we passed by a pet store.  He led me inside and made a beeline right for the parrots.

He stood in front of the cage of a big macaw and he said, "Fuck" over and over.

"What are you doing?" I asked him.

He glanced at me but kept repeating "Fuck" at the bird.  The macaw turned away from him, and Nick repositioned himself in front of it, not breaking his string of expletives for a second.

I let him have at it for a bit, and strolled over to the aquariums.  After 10 minutes, though, I was tired of the store and I walked back over to find him repeating the same word at the macaw, as he had likely been since I last saw him.

"Ready to go?" I asked.  He shot me a look, but didn't let up.  I said, "I'm getting bored."

He raised the volume a bit but didn't break away.  I said, "I'll meet you outside."

I waited for about 10 more minutes, went back into the store, found him doing the same thing, then left him there.  Never heard from him again, so I have no idea if he was successful.  He might even still be there, as far as I know.

Don't Take Me Out to the Ballgame

E-mail Submitted by Ciara:

What great lips you have.  The better to eat me with... haha j/k.  Seriously if they were serving beer, hot dogs, or your lips at a ballgame I'd pick your lips and eat them until I burst my guts all over the stands and down to the diamond.  Then I'd fix myself and eat some more..

If they offered you something at a ballgame (beer, hot dogs) or NUTS (not my nuts lol regular nuts..... unless you would eat my nuts??) which would you pick?  my nuts?

Thank You,
Marty

I Smell Franchise

E-mail Submitted by Karl:

Don't take this the wrong way but you come off like a douche.  Your pictures make it look like your have a 3rd-grade-education at best, and your profile sentences are all about you, making you appear self-centered and vain.

I'm Marie, and I'm a consultant of sorts for people's online profiles.  I've helped over 6 people fix up their images online all with great success.  Here's an example from your profile and my suggested fix:

Your profile: "I've worked with inner city kids, teaching them reading and also as a baseball coach."

BORING and DOUCHEY.  It should read: "I'm very interested in getting to know YOU."  (don't forget that you're on here to meet others, not yourself!)

One more quick one (I usually charge$$$): "If you have a favorite type of cuisine, I can point you to a great place in the city."

BORING and DOUCHEY!  AgAIN, ALL ABOUT YOU.  SHOULD BE ABOUT YOUR MATE.  CORRECTTION: "We can go wherever you want for dinner - your choice!"

See the difference!  So many more responses my way - guaranteed!  Write back to sound less like a DOUCHE and more like a MATE CATCHER.

Marie
Marie Consulting

The Man from Ant

Story Submitted by William:

I went over to Linda's house to watch a movie.  We had been friends for a while and had only recently discussed the idea of becoming something more.  When I arrived, bearing flowers and a bottle of wine, she seemed happy to see me, but not because I had brought her gifts.

"Good, you're here," she said, "You can help me take care of the ants."

"Ants?"

Oh yes.  The ants.  She had a small country's worth of ants in her kitchen, and she wasn't happy.  She said, "It's my roommate.  He leaves food out all the time, like he takes a bite out of a slice of bread, then leaves it on the counter.  He gets upset if I bag it up or put it in the fridge or throw it away, so now we have ants.  Help me get rid of them."

I asked, "Do you have any traps?"

She said, "One, but I'd prefer to not use it.  I don't want them dead, I just want them gone."

I said, "That will be difficult.  Maybe we could try tempting somewhere else, but that'll take a while, as long as you have a source of food for them in here."

She said, "What about scooping them up and putting them outside?"

"Go for it."

"No.  You."

I don't have a problem with ants, but I didn't much feel like transporting hundreds of them, by hand, into a backyard.  That's not what I had signed up for that night.

She said, "Just for a little bit, then we can watch that movie.  I just want to make a dent, if nothing else."

We grabbed pieces of paper and scooped them up as best as we could.  Thing was, for every bunch we relocated, more and more came to take their place.  After 15 minutes, it didn't look like we had made any progress at all.

Linda laughed in hysteria.  "They just keep coming!  They're just everywhere!"

I offered, "Why don't we run out and grab some traps?"

She said, "Then we'll be scooping up piles of dead ants.  Is that what you really want?"

I said, "If they're dead, then they can't keep crawling back."

"You might be a murderer," she said, "And I don't want to kill them.  They're parents, children, and babies.  This is natural for them.  I just want them out of here."

We scooped up more of them for the better part of an hour, and it finally looked as though we had made some progress.  She turned to me and said, "Thanks.  I'm going to go take a shower now, so I guess that's a night."

I said, "I'll wait for you to shower.  We can still watch the movie."

She shook her head.  "But you touched the ants, too.  I'm not going to want to hang out if I'm clean and you're all ant-saturated."

I asked, "Then I'll take a shower after you."

She frowned and dropped her shoulders, obviously not being keen on that idea.  "Fine," she said.

We both showered, and I put on the movie.  She moved as far away as she could away from me on the couch, and we watched it in awkward silence.  When I did move a bit closer, she switched seats to another sofa.

Once the movie was over, I took it, said goodnight, and I haven't hung out with her alone again from that day to this.

The Internet Is Really, Really Great

Story Submitted by Georgia:

Rick worked in my office building.  He and I became good friends and he asked me out for drinks after a workday.  "Meet me at the bar," he told me, "I'll have a few last-minute things to finish up here."

I did as he asked, and I went straight to the bar after work.  I expected him to be about 10 to 15 minutes late at most.  When a half-hour came and went, I called his office number.  No response.  He was always a good guy to me, so I was pretty sure that I hadn't been stood up, at least not on purpose.

I left the bar and returned to the office.  It was quiet and mostly dark, but I poked around until I found his cubicle.  I found him there, facing away from me, watching porn on his computer, and masturbating.

I froze up.  He hadn't heard me coming.  A hundred potential actions flashed through my head, but I opted to leave as quietly as I could.

Once I was out of there, I sent him a text to say that I had to head home and couldn't wait any longer.  He wrote back to say, "I'm almost done.  Wait just five more minutes."

Ugh.  I really didn't want to see him after that, so I told him that we'd raincheck it.  It's been over a year since, and we haven't met up yet.  It wasn't so much the act itself so much as it was that he made me wait just so that he could... do his business.  I thought it was rude, if nothing else.

By "Date" I Thought You Meant the Fruit

Story Submitted by Steve:

Jennifer and I planned to meet up on a Friday, but when Friday rolled around, she called me to postpone. "I have an appointment that I forgot about," she said. I didn't think it good form on her part, but what could I do? I wished her well at her appointment and asked her to call me when she wanted to meet up.

She called me the next day, Saturday morning, to ask if I wanted to meet up up for a quick lunch. I told her that I had lunch plans (which was true) but that I could meet up with her for dinner.

She replied, "I see, so this is you getting revenge on me for yesterday, is that it?"

"No. Hard as it may be to believe, I actually have plans with more people than just you. Do you want to meet up for dinner or not?"

She agreed to dinner, and imagine my surprise when she called less than an hour before to inform me, "Can't make it. Something came up."

I asked her, "Is this your way of telling me that you're not interested?"

"No!"

"Then how should I take it?"

She said, "It's been literally years since my last date. I keep canceling because you get me so nervous, what with wanting to meet up all the time."

I asked, "Isn't that what people who want to see each other do? You know, see each other?"

She said, "Not me."

"Okay, then have a nice life."

"That's it? You're just going to hang up?"

"If this is as far as our relationship will go, then I don't see a point in delaying the inevitable."

"Inevitable? My god, you're a jerk." She hung up on me, then called me right back. I let it go to voicemail. I listened to it, and she had called me all manner of things. While I listened to it, she called me again, and I let it go to voicemail once more.

In the new message, she apologized and asked me to give her one more chance. While I listened to that one, she called yet again.

On that third and final message, she insulted me a bit more before signing off. She was just too confusing for me.

You Lacking My Address is Relieving Enough

E-mail Submitted by Edna:

You may be pregnant but I'm not the father. If those words relieve you then perhaps you'll consider a relationship with me. I am full of relieving words.

I built 20 birdhouses last year and this year only 10 are left. The birds that lived with them must have gone away. If you are afraid of birds then this should relieve you.

I live in a valley-afraid of heights? That should make you relieved! I have water and I live-love alone. You should stay with me for a while. I can fight for you but I won't die for you. Can you can do that yourself!

Oliver

I Can't Imagine Why They Split

Story Submitted by James:

Margaret and I were out on a walk.  It was our first time meeting in person after a couple of weeks of emails and phone calls.  She had asked me about how my week had been and I told her, "It was fine.  Except for Wednesday.  On Wednesday–"

"Enough, already.  Can't we walk in peace and quiet?" she said.

I replied, "Sure.  It's just that you had asked about my week and I was answering you."

"Yes.  Tell me about your week.  I'm sorry."

"Okay.  On Wednesday, there was a near-catastrophe.  One of my coworkers–"

She said, "Okay, I'm sorry, can you stop, now?  I'm not sure why I thought I could take it, but I guess I can't."

I asked, "You can't take conversation?"

"Not yours.  Let me take over."

She then regaled with tales about herself and her life, starting with elementary school and bringing me up to speed on how she made it to where she ended up.  Of note was the fact that her boyfriend of seven years had dumped her for a guy, and then the guy's sister.

Once she was done talking, I asked, "Are you happy with the way things turned out for you?"

She said, "That's a stupid question.  Ask me another one."

I asked, "Where do you see your life going?"

She groaned and stomped away from me, as if I had been pestering her for hours and wouldn't leave her alone.  I called after her, "What do you want me to ask you?"

She said, "You're not at all sorry for me about my boyfriend breaking up with me and dating some guy and then his sister?  That's not strange to you?"

I said, "It is, but I didn't see a need to question you about it.  I'm sorry that it happened, if that helps."

She shook her head.  "You obviously don't mean it.  This isn't going to work.  Let's just say goodbye."

"Okay."

Her mouth dropped open.  She asked, "You'd just let me go?  Just like that?  Maybe we really aren't meant to be together."

"Works for me."

"You're an asshole."

"Yeah."

So it went.  I think she was just looking to pick a fight that day, and I happened to be the one she picked.  Maybe I was a bit dismissive of her, but I think it was justified.

You Sound Board-Certified

E-mail Submitted by Kelly:

remove things.  It's the only way I said to all of them and now I say to you.  If I suggest that you have something removed it's for your own heatlh benefits and life pleasure.

You have a mole near your mouth.  Looks like shitcakedirt and needs to be removed.  I can remove it for you or hire a dear friend who has assisted me in many removals.  He won't charge you much and you and mouth will look smooth and silky and men will say wow what a nice face and lips and mouth!

prob around $395.  Maybe 495 but worth it!

Joe

Call the Farmer. One's Loose.

E-mail Submitted by Howard:

Dear sir:

There was a girl guys said they loved and Ann was her name-o
A-N-N  A-N-N  A-N-N
And Ann was her name-o!

But this girl had dated some guys who treated her like shit-o
*-N-N  *-N-N  *-N-N
And Ann was her name-o!

And these guys dated other girls and that was their mistake-o
*-*-N  *-*-N  *-*-N
And Ann was her name-o!

And now Ann e-mails everyone to tell all folks their names-o:
James Walters
Peter Gaucher
Eric Nichols
Robert Ketner

*-*-*  *-*-*  *-*-*

AND ANN WAS HER NAME-O!  AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Ann

It's Stuffy in Here

Story Submitted by Letitia:

Henry and I met online, and we had a brief coffee date just to meet each other.  He seemed like a nice, sane guy, and was very charming.  For our second date, he asked me out to dinner and drinks, and I looked forward to it.  We had arranged that he would pick me up at my place.

When he arrived, he asked me if he could use my bathroom.  I pointed him in its direction, and he was in there for a little while before emerging.

When he came out, he asked, "Ready to go?"

I don't know what it was, but I suddenly had a bad feeling.  I told him, "In a second.  I'll meet you outside," and he left the house for his car.

I went into the bathroom to find that not only the toilet, but the sink and bathtub were positively stuffed with crumpled toilet paper.  The toilet itself was heaped to overflowing, and there was an awful smell coming from it.  No joke, there had to have been at least three full rolls of toilet paper involved.

I pulled out my phone and texted him, "Come back here, please."

He texted back, "Why?"

Rather than text him again, I stormed outside to find him sitting in his car.  He rolled down his window, and I said, "What did you do to my bathroom?"

He gave me a wide-eyed look, then put his car into drive and floored it down the street.  "Hey!" I yelled, "Hey!" after him, but he didn't stop or come back.

I texted him, "I'm sending you the cleanup bill, asshole."  It was a dumb thing to send, and I spent the evening cleaning up my bathroom rather than having a nice time out.  Still, given what he showed me about himself, I was probably better off.

Postal

Story Submitted by Clarence:

Mary and I were due to meet up for our date right after our respective workdays.  I had pulled a few strings to ensure that I would be out on time (as my bosses had a habit of keeping me up to an hour late some days), and we set a time and place.

At around 4:30, Mary called me and said, "I have to make it to the post office before it closes.  When will you be done at work?"

I told her, "Around five, but if you need to go to the post office first, then do that.  I can meet you elsewhere or a bit later, if that helps your schedule."

To that, she said, "Eww.  You don't make my schedule for me."

"I didn't.  I was trying to be accommodating."

She said, "Whatever," then hung up.

A minute later, she called back and said, "I'll meet you at 4:45 in the lobby of your building.  Don't be late."

I replied, "I can't promise that I'll be out before five, but I'll do what I can."

She said, "4:45.  Or I won't be able to make the post office," then hung up.

I don't like being ordered around, but perhaps there was a logical reason behind Mary's stress.  I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.  That day, however, was a busy day in my office (I'm an architect) and despite my best efforts, I couldn't make it downstairs until around 4:55.

When I arrived in the lobby, Mary was there, and she wasn't happy.  As I approached her, she glanced at her watch.

"It's almost five.  I'm going to miss the post office.  Thank you."

I said, "There's one not far from here.  We can make it if we hurry."

"We shouldn't have to hurry!  I laid out explicit plans!"

I said, "Your plans should have included listening to me when I said that I'd try my best to be out at 4:45.  We can stand here and talk or we can try to make it to the post office."

She said, "Again, trying to make my schedule for me.  I'm not really... I don't think this is going to work.  I don't respond well to orders, especially from some hotshot architect.  Maybe the coffee ladies in your office get off on it, but I have to get to the post office."

She hurried off, and I followed her for a few steps before realizing that she was a bitch.  So our evening was over before it even began.  Whatever she had to mail, I hope it was important.

Hike it Up

Story Submitted by Lindsay:

Jason and I had been acquaintances for a while, and he asked me out on a date – a hike in a local park.  There was some light-to-moderate rock climbing involved.

It was pleasant enough at first, but after a couple of climbs, my pants, I suppose, had begun to ride a bit low, and he said, "I see London, I see France..."

I hiked them up, and hiked on.  Not long after, he again chanted, "I see London, I see France..."

I tried to laugh it off.  "Sorry, these ride a bit low."

"I don't mind," he said a bit too excitedly, "They look cute."

I rolled my eyes and continued on.  When we took a break for lunch, he asked, "So, you think I can see them?"

I asked, "See what?"

He said, "Well, I mean, you know, it's like, um, your, well, I've already kind of seen them, so, um, well..."

Of course, I knew what he was talking about the instant he asked me the first question.  What a dick.  I instinctively pulled up my pants a bit and said, "I don't think so."

"Tell you what," he said, "If your pants slip again, then you have to show them to me.  Deal?"

I said, "Deal, but if that happens, then you have to hike the rest of the way naked."

He stared at me and said, "I don't think that's fair."

I said, "Well, I don't think I'll be showing you anything, then," and smiled.

Then he narrowed his eyes at me and did a weird sort of tremble.  It looked like he was getting really mad, and I thought it best to call off the rest of the hike.  I said, "Hey, let's maybe head back."

He said, "Yeah.  I think that's a good idea."

I told him, "You lead the way," and he did, all the way back down.  We climbed into our respective cars, and there wasn't even a goodbye.  He peeled away, and I never heard from him again.