Store Contest

Story Sent in by Mary:

Jeffrey gave me an address at which to meet him for date number one. It was a gas station and convenience store. When I arrived, I called him, thinking that I had the place wrong. He said, "Nope, that's right. They have a table and chairs just inside the front door. Meet you there!" He hung up.

I went inside and indeed, next to the ice cream cooler and potato chip rack, there was a torn bridge table and two folding chairs that had definitely seen better days. A few customers were strolling up and down the aisles. I wondered why he had wanted to meet there, and I paced the aisles, myself.

He came in with a stuffed canvas bag and a clipboard. "Hey," he said, giving me a one-armed hug, "Let's sit down." He walked toward the table and chairs.

I asked him, "Where are we going to dinner?"

He replied, "That depends on you. Have a seat."

Both seats were stained, one with dark splotches, one with lighter ones, but neither looked like the sort of seat I really wanted to use. He put his bag on the table, sat down on the dark-stained chair, and motioned to the other one.

"Can we just go to dinner?" I asked.

He said, "You know, I feel a lot more comfortable sitting here, just to start. I'm sorry, I kind of want to do this."

"Do what?"

"Have a seat and I'll tell you."

"Tell me, and I might have a seat. Is this a date or isn't it?"

He stood up and stepped closer to me with the clipboard. He showed it to me. It had a hand-written list of local restaurants. He pointed up and down the list and said, "Where someone likes to eat says a lot about their personality. So tell me, Mary: where do you want to go for dinner?"

I pointed to an Italian place I knew of, less then a couple of miles away. He said, "I wanted to see if you were fun-loving, which is why I'd prefer dinner here, at this table. We can get anything you want in the store. What do you say?"

I replied, "I don't really want to eat at a gas station, tonight."

He nodded, then sat back down and said, "How about this: I eat here, you go to your little restaurant, and then we reconvene and compare notes? Food, price, ambiance, et cetera."

"You don't want to do dinner together?" I asked.

"If it's here."

I left him there.

The next day, he sent me an email that said, "If I wanted to mail you something, what's the address to which I could personally deliver it? I don't trust the postal service with something of such gravity."

I didn't respond, even though it might have meant that I was missing out on something as important as a free bag of chips or a gas station hot dog.


(Greetings, ABCotD readers. Still on a road trip across America. Posts will still appear every day, although the daily timing might be a bit wonky for a few weeks. Then again, depending on my Internet access, you may not notice a blip at all. If I'm traveling through your area and anyone wants to grab a coffee, then give me a shout at abadcaseofthedates at gmail dot com. Today, I'll be along I-70 (eastbound) through Utah, and tomorrow I'll be in the Denver area. - Jared)


  1. Awww, the little dinner wh0re didn't want to sit on the folding chair? Perhaps a diamond-encrusted throne would be more to your liking, yer Majesty!!

    P.S. - Jared, stop trying to extort us for free coffee. :-p

    1. You're lucky that's the only thing I'm extorting from you people.

  2. If being a dinner whore means having some basic standards and a sense of self worth you can call me that any day

  3. Would you also meet some random online person at a random address, without ANY prior investigation of what the address is? The Google works great, so I hear. Most people would want to know exactly where they are going, and as much as they can reasonably glean about their date BEFORE just jumping in their car. But no, she was blinded by her insatiable appetite for potentially free Aye-talian food. Dinner WhOre!!

    1. Steve are you Jeffrey? You might just want to write a rebuttal.

      Also your "dinner wh0re" accusation is unfounded. Expecting to go an actual place dedicated to serving food after meeting at a gas station doesn't seem too unreasonable. Meanwhile expecting your date to want to eat at a gas station seems pretty ridiculous. Plus there is no evidence that OP was unwilling to pay for her own expenses.

    2. That's why I said *potentially* free meal - a gal can hope. I'm sure if they went to the Olive Garden, as she hoped, and he made her go dutch, we'd STILL have a story on here about "Oh Em Geez, he made me pay for dinner, worst date EVAR!!"

    3. Ah, forgive me Steve, unlike yourself, I was under the assumption that not all women are "diner wh0res".

    4. Kevin, don't feed the trolls.

    5. You sound pretty bitter, Steve.

  4. She could have known it was a gas station in advance, and thought they were just meeting there before going somewhere else. Also, how do you know she wasn't planning to pay for her share of the meal? You must be a rocking fun date if you assume every woman is just out for free meals.

    1. Okay, I just re-read it and she didn't know it was a gas station in advance. But the rest of my comment still stands.

  5. I doubt she was trying to just scam a dinner out of her date. She probably just wanted to eat real food instead of a gas station hot dog that's been sitting on rollers for hours and a bag of chips.

  6. I can imagine eating in a gas station being weird and uncomfortable. It wouldn't have the right atmosphere for a date with people wandering around shopping. I can understand not wanting to eat there.
    She didn't know it was a gas station before arriving but she called him and he clearly told her his intentions of eating there, why not raise objections there and then or just go home after realising your date wants you to have dinner in a gas station.

  7. I hope Jeffrey is sterile.

  8. when it comes to first dates, i pay and/or go dutch (so by no means am i the alternately scorned and revered dinner whxre), but i don't think i'd stick around long at all at a fine dining gas station for dinner.. even if it looked like this and sold beer: http://www.aredesignawards.com/rda_db_images/2005701.jpg.


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.