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.


  1. "I convinced myself that any misgivings I had for him were outweighed by his positive qualities..."

    Sounds exactly like the justification battered women use.

  2. ^ Still, at least she was smart enough to walk away and didn't put up with him for the rest of the night.

  3. I'd have blocked him or at least stopped contact at the mention of a ring so early on. That's not normal enthusiasm.

  4. I can't believe she got in his car after his weird behavior.

  5. Hey, chicks dig scars.
    If a guy mentions stuff like that early on, I get really turned off, but then again, I'm normal.

  6. The thing about a favor is you're not obligated to do it...

  7. One of my first boyfriends mentioned the "always open the door first for the girl, then if she doesn't open the door for you, she's a bitch." I don't necessarily think that's true, but in this day and age, most people have automatic doors that open both the passenger side AND the driver's side at the same time. If he's one of the guys (like me as of only a year ago) who isn't that fortunate, then yeah, it might be nice to expect the passenger to open the door. However, he blew it completely out of proportion. COMPLETELY.


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

Content Policy

A Bad Case of the Dates reserves the right to publish or not publish any submitted content at any time, and by submitting content to A Bad Case of the Dates, you retain original copyright, but are granting us the right to post, edit, and/or republish your content forever and in any media throughout the universe. If Zeta Reticulans come down from their home planet to harvest bad dating stories, you could become an intergalactic megastar. Go you!

A Bad Case of the Dates is not responsible for user comments. We also reserve the right to delete any comments at any time and for any reason. We're hoping to not have to, though.

Aching to reach us? abadcaseofthedates at gmail dot com.