And That's How We Got Our Coffee Cup Tree

Story Sent in by Nick:

For a date, Mae invited me to help her plant some flowers in a nearby community garden. We had a good time and then went out for coffee. It was a nice day so we took our drinks to go and we walked around the neighborhood, back in the direction of the garden.

We entered the garden and Mae picked up a spade, dug a hole, and put her coffee cup inside the hole. She then buried it.

I asked her what she was doing and she said that she was planting coffee. I pressed her for more of an explanation and she said that she had read an article that said that if you buried a coffee cup with coffee grinds still within it, it would eventually sprout into a coffee plant.

I laughed out loud at this but she was very serious. I told her that she was effectively littering and possibly hurting other plants in that area. She ignored me and we continued our walk. But I was seriously concerned for her mental state and so I ended the date as genially as possible.

Later that day, just after sunset, I returned to the garden to dig up the coffee cup. I know it was just one cup, but it stuck in my mind and I just wanted to throw it away. Call me OCD. Whatever. It was litter and it was an otherwise nice community garden. I threw the cup away and put the dirt back the way it had been before.

The next day Mae called me and asked, "Did you dig up the coffee cup I planted yesterday?"

"No," I replied.

She said, "Well someone did and now I have to go out and buy a whole other cup of coffee. But I don't understand why it was dug up and nothing else around it was dug up. It's like someone went there to dig up just that cup."

I asked, "How do you know it's not there anymore? Did you actually go and dig up that area again?"

She replied, "I wanted to see if it was sprouting, yet. It's supposed to take no time at all and when it didn't sprout this morning I got suspicious."

I said, "You know that coffee doesn't grow from used coffee cups, right? That article you read was false."

She paused on the line and asked, "What article?"

I was done with her at that point, but I was sure to call and leave a message with the community organization that managed the garden. I gave them Mae's information and let them know that there was a good chance that she'd try to bury more garbage in the plots.

Frozen

Story Sent in by Lisa:

Bob messaged me on a dating site and we chatted for a little while. He asked me if he could bring me to an awesome frozen yogurt place that he liked a lot. He was so excited about it that I had to indulge him. He gave me an address and told me to meet him there. I looked it up and was a bit confused. It seemed like the address was in some industrial area and according to Google Maps, at least, there was no ice cream or frozen yogurt place nearby.

I double-checked with Bob to make sure he had given me the right address and he assured me that he had.

I arrived in a parking lot for what seemed to be a warehouse and Bob showed up shortly thereafter. There was no frozen yogurt place in sight and so my curiosity (and trepidation) were at a height. Bob carried a small plastic grocery bag and he handed it to me.

"Frozen yogurt," he said.

I looked in the bag. It was a couple of plastic cups of grocery-store yogurt. Like Yoplait or something. And they were frozen rock solid. Frozen. Yogurt. Ha ha. Very funny.

Bob then said, "They're your problem, now," and then hurried back to his car and drove off.

Pretty Ugly

Story Sent in by John:

Kelly brought her high school yearbook to our first date. Over dinner she flipped through it, opened it to the page with her senior photo, and asked me, "Was I prettier then or am I prettier now?"

I told her, "You're prettier now."

She liked that answer. She closed the yearbook, said, "Good," and put it away.

About five minutes later she asked me, "Am I prettier now or was I prettier five minutes ago?"

I said, "You're even prettier now."

She gave me a nice smile and I hoped she'd thenceforth shut up with the prettiness questions.

A little bit after that, she asked, "Am I prettier now or was I prettier the last time I asked you how pretty I was?"

I replied, "Honestly, I think you're pretty now, five minutes ago, and even back in high school." I thought that was a pretty good answer.

Apparently, it wasn't. She gave me a horrified look and opened up her yearbook and said, "I was an ugly, pock-marked mess in high school! You mean to tell me that you think this is pretty?" She pointed to her high school photo, which wasn't really at all ugly or pock-marked.

I said, "I think you're pretty. Can we end the discussion?"

She slammed the yearbook closed and said, "Never mind. You think I'm ugly. All there is to it."

I said, "I don't," but I must not have been convincing, or else I was tired of the conversation. But she didn't take that well, either.

She said, "No, I'm the ugliest girl you've ever seen. You might as well just come out and say it. You've said everything but."

I said, "Okay. How's your soup?"

She replied, "Perfect for an ugly girl."

After dinner we took a brief walk and she asked, "Are you sure you're okay being seen with someone so ugly? I don't want to embarrass you or anything."

I said, "I think you look fine. If anything about you will embarrass me, it'll be your personality."

She totally flipped out at that. She said that she had a loving, good-natured, wonderful personality and that I'd do well to grow up. Yes, I'll be noting that. And that was our only date.

Be Carefuller What You Wish For

Story Sent in by Sophia:

At dinner on a first date with Jack, he asked me about my acting experience. I had acted in plays in high school, college, and for some local theatre productions. He said that he could guess which shows I had been in. He said, "42nd Street, Joseph, Anything Goes, and Oklahoma. Am I right?"

He was. He said, "I looked you up online before the date. You went to Zion Hill Nursery School, Went to Burroughs Middle School until sixth grade, then went to another school I don't know, then went to Springfield High, then went to Washington University in St. Louis, studied writing... how am I doing, so far?"

I was stunned. I mean, I have no idea how he even knew some of this stuff. Like my nursery school? How would that info even be online anywhere? But he wasn't done:

"You dated a guy named Todd and a guy named Carl in college and maybe beyond. Long term relationships, though I don't know for how long. Your parents divorced in 2010 and you're closer with your mother. Want me to keep going?"

He was right about everything. And it wasn't impressive - it was creepy! I asked him, "Where did you find all this?"

He stood up and said, "Maybe from now on, you'll be carefuller online." He then left the restaurant, sticking me with the bill.

Hottest Halloween on Record

Story Sent in by Dan:

I had been with Frieda for around two months when we decided to do a couples costume for a Halloween party to which we had been invited. She would go as a Pokémon trainer and I would go as a Pokémon. Seemed simple enough to me. I went as the fiery Charmander and met her at the party.

One of the first things she said to me was, "You look nothing like Charmander." That was incorrect. I had the orange skin, a full-head hat that was the spitting image of the beast (my face poked out through the mouth), and even the flaming tail. I was Charmander through and through. I looked like him. Hell, even people we passed by said, "Oh my god, it's Charmander." Rest assured that I looked like Charmander.

Frieda, though, was in a rotten mood and nothing could change her opinion. She said that I "ruined Halloween" and "should just go home." I had no intent of doing either of those things and I urged her to enjoy the night.

For my part, I had fun. There was punch, party games, and lots of fun people in creative costumes. I drank a bit and apparently, so did Frieda. The night culminated with her sidling up to me in what I thought was a late attempt at affection. But when she held a lit lighter up to my hat, I dodged away and demanded an explanation.

She yelled, "You don't look like Charmander and now the only way you will is with actual fire! Hold still!" She chased me with the lighter and I had to run out of the party. Someone yelled, "Run, Charmander, run!" You didn't have to tell me twice. I ran down the street and lost sight of Frieda.

Thinking myself safe, I wandered around a little bit before returning to the party. I was greeted warmly by the party attendees and there was no sign of Frieda. I went back to having a good, if guarded, time.

About a half-hour after I had returned, however, Frieda showed up, darted right at me from across the room, and tried to light me on fire again. She said, "Hold still! Charmander is a fire Pokémon!"

This time, I was able to grab her lighter away from her. She hit at me to get it back but I wasn't having it. As she hit at me she yelled, "You ruined this whole night! I should be able to kill you to get back at you for it! Give me the lighter!"

She stumbled a bit and almost landed on the floor. A few people came over and guided her to a couch. She promptly threw up all over it and that's around when I stopped having fun. I went home on my own and when she reached out to me the next day, and the couple of days thereafter, I didn't respond.

But Was It a Moon Unit?

Story Sent in by Megan:

I thought it was weird when I saw that Dave had the words, “I have an amazing storage unit” in his profile, and on its own line at that. I just chalked it up to him being weird and so we went out on a first date.

He asked me if I wanted to see his storage unit that he rented out from a local storage place. He claimed that he had really decked it out and that it looked nicer than most people’s homes. I turned him down and so he took me to a bar instead.

When we arrived at the bar he said, “And we’re right across the street from my storage unit! What a coincidence! Want to see it?”

I turned him down yet again. When we went inside the bar, he asked the bartender if they had discounts for people who rented storage units across the street, and then Dave asked if the bartender could mix a drink called the “storage unit.” That was a big no on both counts.

Dave then sucked down his drink and asked me if I wanted to go see his storage unit. I told him yet again that I didn’t. He then said that he’d meet me there after I was done with my drink and then he ran out and stuck me with the tab. I paid and gave the bartender Dave’s information so that he would hopefully be banned from there forever after. When I left, I was sure to avoid going anywhere near the storage place across the street.

The Scoop Nazi

Story Sent in by Evan:

I took Micaela on a date to a deli that I thought she'd like. When it was our turn to order at the counter, I ordered a bialy with cream cheese, onions, and smoked salmon. At Micaela's turn, she asked for a scoop of cream cheese. That's it.

"What do you want it on?" the deli guy asked.

Micaela stuck out her hand, palm up, at him. It was as if she wanted him to just glop the cream cheese right on her hand.

The guy shook his head. "Can't. Public health reasons. I can just put it on a plate for you."

Micaela sighed the biggest sigh and said, "Fine." She turned to me and said, "I hate plates."

We sat down. Me with my bialy and her with her... spread. She cut at her scoop of cream cheese with a knife and fork. I asked her how it was and she said, "Terrible. It's on a plate. My hands are clean. I don't know what the problem was."

I suggested, "Maybe just transfer it from the plate to your hand?"

She said, "Too late. It has that porcelain aftertaste," and made a disgusted face.

That didn't stop her from finishing the cream cheese, though. Or from licking the plate clean. She then stood up and said, "I'm gonna get some more. Want anything?"

I didn't. She went up to the counter, talked to the guy, and came back empty-handed. She sulked, "He said he wouldn't give it to me on my hand. I just paid for a scoop what I could've gotten at a grocery store for a whole container."

I mused, "When you eat it out of a container, wouldn't it have a plastic aftertaste?"

She gave me a look like I was a total moron and said, "No. Why would it?"

I offered her some of my bialy but she turned me down. I asked her if she wanted to go to a nearby ice cream place afterward and she deadpan responded, "Not unless they'll serve me a scoop in my bare hand."

I'm sorry. I HAD to see this happen. I took her to the ice cream shop and I asked them if they'd drop the scoop of ice cream right from the scoop into Micaela's hand. They said they wouldn't, echoing the deli guy's health department statement. Micaela turned to me and said, "See?"

She watched me eat my ice cream while she just sat there with an empty cup. We then went our separate ways.

Nobody Outruns the Leaf People

Story Sent in by Charlotte:

I planned out a fun autumn day trip for my first date with John. We'd go to a farm just out of town to frolic in the pumpkin patch, eat apple cider donuts, and generally have a good autumnal time.

From the beginning of the date, it was apparent that something was off. John was twitchy as if he constantly needed to be moving or pacing or whatever. Was he on drugs? I don't know. But as soon as we arrived at the place, he took off at a fast walk, leaving me behind. At first I thought he really had to use the bathroom and so I waited for him for a while. But when he didn't come back I went looking for him.

I found him among some parents who were yelling at him. John had apparently hid in a leaf pile and jumped out at kids. He claimed to them that the farm had employed him to be a "living scarecrow." He then took off at a jog, leaped over a wooden fence, and ran into a cornfield, where I lost sight of him.

I gave him up for lost and returned to enjoy the farm by myself. I was on my second or third cup of cider when he reappeared next to me and took my arm. He explained, "We have to leave. I've angered the leaf people."

I was confused and I asked, "Did you jump out at kids again?"

He said, "Worse. Much, much worse. Are you coming? You need to disguise yourself as leaves to survive." Without waiting for me he bolted for the parking lot. I can only assume that he drove away, because I didn't see him again.

The Attic Claims Another

Story Sent in by G.:

Out at coffee with Dakota, we reminisced over our childhoods and got on the subject of stuff that scared us while we were growing up. She told me that the attic of her childhood home was haunted. She said that it had occult imagery and weird paintings of grotesque acts and demons and so on.

I asked her if perhaps she was related to someone who had a death metal band. She then said that it was no laughing matter. She said that her father once went up to investigate and when he didn't return, her mother went up to check on him. Dakota then said with a straight face that she never saw either of them again.

I laughed at her. She kept it going, though. She said, "I'm serious. The police have a missing persons report open on both of them. I was 10 at the time. You can look it up. Google 'Ted and Kelly Severino missing' and you'll see the whole thing."

Dakota then excused herself to use the bathroom. I Googled the names she gave me and I found no information about her "missing" parents.

After a long while, Dakota still hadn't returned from the bathroom. I went and waited by the door and saw other people going in and out. It seemed that Dakota had left. I texted her, "You could've said bye at least," and she texted me back an image of a gross-looking demon thing.

Falling Shirt

Story Sent in by Erin:

Drew's favorite topic was himself and he didn't let me forget it. He took me out to a hotel bar and talked all about how amazing his life was as a telecom service tech. He then told me that he almost invented the iPhone but didn't because he didn't want to be remembered for something so stupid. He then offered to jailbreak my phone using only the power of his mind. I politely refused him.

We had downed a couple of drinks each when he picked up his vodka tonic and said, "You know what's amazing? Liquid. Watch." He then poured most of his drink down the inside of his dress shirt.

I had to laugh. "What are you doing?"

He said, "Behold the power of liquid! In the wrong context it would look like I peed myself but since you know the truth, you now bear witness to the power of liquid."

I laughed at him a bit more then he said, "It would be nice if you did it, too. So I'm not the only one sitting here with a drink down my shirt."

I turned him down and then he said, "Maybe we can go to the bathroom here and have some fun. I know the bathrooms here well. No one ever goes in them."

Again I turned him down. He opened his wallet, put a few bills on the bar, and said, "Call me when you're fun," and then left.

I guess I'll never be fun.

Don't Fret

Story Sent in by Doug:

Aimee had profile photos of herself playing the guitar. Through conversation with her, I learned that she had been playing since she was very young and she practiced every day. I told her that I'd love to hear her play sometime and she told me that she'd play for me on our first date.

We met up in a public park. I immediately noticed that she didn't have a guitar with her but I figured that if she had brought one, it was probably in her nearby car or whatever. After we exchanged pleasantries she asked me, "Did you bring the guitar?"

I don't own a guitar. Therefore I had never agreed to bring one. I told her, "I don't own a guitar. Do you have yours handy?"

She said, "You didn't bring it? Seriously?"

"How can I bring what I don't own?"

She laughed and shook her head like I was a total idiot. She said, "Then I guess I'm not playing for you."

I remarked, "Okay. Maybe next time."

She said, "You don't understand: I'm not playing for you ever. Not for you, not for anybody!" and then she burst into tears. People who walked by must have thought that they were witnessing the break-up of a years-long romance, not the sudden mood swings of an irrational woman and the poor guy who happened to have not brought a guitar to the proceedings. I tried to console her but eventually gave up and went home.

Back to Back

Story Sent in by Dahlia:

David had on his profile that he was a certified massage therapist. We sent some emails back and forth and then met in person in front of a restaurant.

The first thing he said when he met me was, "Your back looks all out of shape. I should massage you."

I'm not sure how he could tell anything about my back (which was fine, by the way). I was in a blouse and dress and nothing about me suggested that anything was wrong with my back.

I said, "My back feels fine but thanks for the offer."

He said, "I know a busted back when I see one. Let me massage you. For just five minutes."

I had only just met him, and although we had spoken for a bit online beforehand, I wasn't about to let him touch my back. I said, "No, thanks. Let's have dinner."

He said, "Bad backs lead to every kind of health problem imaginable. Heart attacks, strokes, incapacitation. Do you want all that? In just five minutes I can cure you."

Again I said, "Let's just have dinner," and I made for the front door.

He then said, "You'll thank me," and then pressed his hands against my back.

I spun around and screamed, "Get off me!" He bolted for his car, jumped in, and drove off.

He emailed me shortly afterward to tell me that he couldn't see himself dating someone who was so cavalier about her physical health. I replied that I couldn't see myself dating someone who assaults women. Needless to say, that concluded our relationship.

All's Smell That Ends Smell

Story Sent in by Taylor:

In Mina's defense, she had a great sense of humor. She laughed at nearly everything I said. I wasn't sure if she was just humoring me, but the laughs seemed genuine. I thought things were going very well. We met for coffee, took a walk, sat down on a park bench, and as it was shortly dinnertime, I thought I'd ask her to dinner.

Then, during one of her laughing spells, she farted.

Her laughter stopped. She turned pink. I smiled at her and reassured her, "It's okay. I take it as a compliment."

She laughed at that, so hard that she farted again. She said, "Oh my god! I can't stop!" she laughed and farted yet again.

It was funny, more or less. But so many farts in rapid succession, even outside with a slight breeze, smelled godawful. She must have eaten an entire barnyard for breakfast and for lunch. I stood up and took a step or two away. Then I asked her to dinner.

At dinner, she farted a few more times while she laughed. She said, "I feel like now that I've done it once, I have no shame, anymore." It was okay with me, although the smell was still pretty terrible. That and the fact that she farted loudly enough to catch the attention of neighboring tables... well, that was a bit of a turn-off.

Even after dinner when we took a brief walk and I didn't say much, she still let a few loose, not even accompanied by any laughter. I brought the date to a close and we parted.

Aside from the farts it was a decent date. Which is to say it could've been better. She wrote me the next day to tell me that she felt self-conscious because she did all the farting and I didn't fart at all. She asked me if on our next date I could fart in front of her so she could hear what it sounded like when I farted. I didn't know how to respond to that, so I didn't. Ever.

Would You Say You Beelined Away? Nyuk Nyuk Nyuk.

Story Sent in by Claire:

Seamus took me out for a quick coffee with the promise that he had something "really adventurous" planned for a post-coffee activity. He hurried us through drinks and then led me a few blocks away to a row of nice suburban houses. One of them had some tall shrubs and within those shrubs was a...

"Beehive?" I asked.

In response, Seamus picked up a rock and threw it at the beehive. We both tore away as fast as possible.

He said, "Good thing you caught up. Those things sting."

I screamed a string of expletives that all basically boiled down to, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

He replied, "I promised you excitement and adventure. How many first dates make you take your life in your hands?"

I said, "None! Because first dates shouldn't do that!"

He said, "You've had some lame first dates, then," and then jogged back up towards the hive, picked up another rock, and ran away from the angry bees. He flew past me, yelled, "C'mon!" over his shoulder, but I was done with this jackass. I hurried back to my car and drove away.

Explosive Entertainment

Story Sent in by Jimmy:

First date with Andrea. We were just walking together by some shops at night. There was a small package in the doorway of one store. It was just something that was probably mailed there and had arrived after hours.

But Andrea freaked out. She stared at it and pointed and said, “It’s a bomb. I know it.” She then pulled out her phone and dialed what I guess was 911 and she told the operator about the “suspicious package.” After giving her information, Andrea hung up and then hurried away as if she herself was terrified of being blown up.

When I caught up with her I asked her how she was so sure that it was a “bomb” and not just mail. She replied, “I did tours overseas. I know a bomb when I see one.”

Andrea had never before told me that she had been in the military. Seems like the sort of thing that would’ve come up prior. Added to the fact that based on everything she had told me about herself (college, jobs, etc.), I had no idea where she could’ve fit “tours overseas” into her life. I pressed her on it but she was too vague about answers for me to really buy it.

The rest of the date was comparatively normal. We even kissed goodnight and both agreed that we’d go out a second time.

The second time out we went to an adult arcade and she spent most of the time pointing at the arcade games, pool tables, and gift shop, claiming that they were all “well-concealed bombs.” I asked her if she wanted to go somewhere else and she said she did and we went back to my car and she said, “your car has a bomb in it,” and she went back inside.

After considering what to do, I just left.