How Touching

Story Sent in by Nina:

Carl was a well-toned guy I met at my gym. I had just started working out regularly when he approached me and began a conversation. He seemed experienced in toning and weight training, and I found a lot of what he said interesting, although a lot of it didn't directly apply to me.

A few days later, I saw him again, we talked, and he asked me out to dinner.

At dinner, he would not shut up about how strong he was, the competitions in which he had placed, the medals he had won, and how awesome it was to be strong and powerful. "Most weaklings I see at work have no idea that I could probably snap them in half. It's good to know that I can do that, if I have to."

"When would you have to?" I asked him.

"I'd snap my boss in half, first," he said, "She'd crack like old wood, then I'd sprinkle her bone dust like confetti all over the office."


After dinner, we took a short walk around the block. He had gone from describing his own physique to critiquing mine. "Your arms are a bit flabby," he'd say, "You should work out more." He also said, "If you tightened up your stomach, people wouldn't think of you as a weakling anymore."

Finally, I grew tired of this insightful banter and I told him that I had to head home. He replied, "Show me your muscles, real quick."

I did, hoping that it would draw the evening to a close. "Ha!" he said, "Those aren't muscles! These are muscles!" He flexed for me. "Go ahead. Feel them."

I said, "Those are some nice muscles."

"Feel them if you want to."

"I don't want to."

"I want you to. Feel them."

"No thanks."

He flexed into a different posture and asked, "What the fuck is your problem? Why don't you want to feel what real muscles feel like?"

I replied, "I have real muscles. I don't need to go feeling yours."

He said, "But mine are larger and firmer than yours. Feel them."

"No thank you."

He flexed into a different position and stepped closer to me. "Feel them or go home."

I didn't reply, but instead turned and strode back to my vehicle. He jogged after me, ran in front, and turned toward me to block my way.

"Just feel them. That's all you have to do," he said, and reached for my hand, presumably to put it on his bicep, tricep, or perhaps another such muscle.

I jerked my arm away and continued on to my car. "You're being an idiot!" he called after me, "Most women would love to touch something like this!"

The next time I saw him at the gym, he came up to me and said, "Hey, sorry that things didn't work out. Did you have a good night? I did. Called up some friends, they brought some girls, and they felt my muscles all night long."

I asked, "All night long? Guess they never found the little one between your legs, huh?"

He replied, "Oh, they found it. Anyway, have a good workout."

We haven't spoken since.


  1. All those muscles and crushing strength, yet the ego was still fragile and brittle as hell.

  2. This is much funnier if you picture him talking in a bad Austrian accent.
    "Feel them now and believe me later"

  3. "Then I'd sprinkle her bone dust like confetti all over the office." hahahaha

  4. I think the moral of the story is not to bother trying to get that last dig in. I mean, the guy is obviously insane. Just shake your head, grin at the crazy, and let him go right by you. I would have simply replied; "Oh, that's... nice?" when he boasted about the girls afterward.

  5. kizyr, you're right!
    So much funnier!

    I picture this guy as being like those guys at the raves who walk around with their shirts off hoping some girl will jump them, while all the while other guys are chatting to those girls they probably want.

    Talking > muscles where most girls are concerned.


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.