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Worst First Date: A Catastrophic Event

August 17, 2012

very bad dateBad Dates. I’ve had ‘em.

So let’s narrow this down to my absolute worst date. The date that was so catastrophic that it sticks in my mind one and half decades later, and will likely linger there for one and a half decades longer. In fact, with my luck, I will probably be old and wrinkled, suffering from twelve kinds of dementia and this date will be the only memory I have that is not fuzzy around the edges.

I was 17. In a voluntary summer school art class because I was weird like that. Every day I would spend my lunch hour at The Second Cup sipping on blueberry tea. Every day, the same chubby, socially awkward guy would blush when I ordered my tea, stammer his way through the typical pleasantries of dealing with a regular customer and then hover near where I sat, sweeping, dusting or wiping the same tables over and over. He reminded me of a bird nervously waiting for a crumb to drop – ready to flee or swoop in, depending.

On my last day of summer school, I ordered my typical blueberry tea. My spirits were high because I’d mastered the one goal I had set for the summer; I learned how to paint the perfect, realistic cloud. The Second Cup kid gave me my beverage on the house to help celebrate my win. Then, as I was about to leave, he blurted out, “Will you go out on a date with me?” His face turned a brilliant shade of red and sweat beads sprouted along his hairline and upper lip. Now, I will tell you that the last thing I wanted to do was go out on a date with this guy. Okay, that’s not true. The second last thing I wanted to do was date him. The absolute last thing I wanted was to see how red his face would get when I said no. So I said yes.

My date picked me up and we went to The Olive Garden. I’ve never been a fan of The Olive Garden, despite their bread sticks, which are so addicting I can only assume they are laced with crack. But I was hungry and he was excited so whatever.

About three bites into our meal this weird, sweaty dude shoved his plate away and proclaimed himself full.

Help MeFull? After three bites?

He asked the waitress to take the plate away, which she did after he assured her the food tasted fine. He then proceeded to watch me eat my pasta. Conversation was sparse. I asked him plenty of questions but he must have suffered from severe shyness (or disinterest) because all he contributed was one, two or three word answers. All the while, he just watched me eat with an unnerving intensity – fork to mouth, fork to plate. After about five bites, I gave up and asked the waitress to take my plate away as well.

So dinner is a bust, what now?

I asked if he liked playing pool or bowling. He said he didn’t. He asked if I wanted to see a movie. An image of him watching me eat popcorn instead of the screen popped into my head. Um, no. I suggested joining a beach party with my friends. He seemed hesitant until I assured him my friends would be very stoned by now so they would be quite friendly with him. At this, he seemed genuinely excited.

We parked in the lot at the beach and went on foot to the semi-secluded area where my friends would party every weekend in the summer. Unfortunately they had cleared out by the time we arrived. The police occasionally raided these parties because the beach was public and under-aged drinking was/is frowned upon. I’m glad we arrived after the police and not before because my date had perspired up a storm during the short hike from the car. I couldn’t imagine him joining in the fun as everyone scattered and ran around and over boulders and bushes to get away from the cops. The police of course, would only half-heartedly chase us, cuffing and depositing home to angry parents only the ones whose altered state prevented them from getting off their asses. I don’t think the police enjoyed playing chauffer with drunken teenagers. Despite their lack of ambition, though, they would certainly have taken my date’s chubby butt home in the back of their cruiser.

Anyway, we walked back to Second  Cup Guy’s parked car, at which point sweat dripped in buckets from his face and large, dark rings soaked the underarms of his dress shirt.

“Well,” I said, it’s getting late. Maybe we should just call it a night.”

And that is when he realised he locked his keys in the car. I could see them behind the window as clearly as I could see my purse, which contained all of my money and I.D., sitting in the passenger seat.

Le sigh.

We spent the next hour walking back to my house so he could call his family and get one of them to bring him a set of spare keys. I did not even bother trying to make conversation during the walk because the poor guy poured sweat and wheezed so hard, I worried about his short and long term health. Every once in a while he would interrupt his huffing and puffing to whine about how his dad was going to kill him.

We finally arrived at my house only to find a party in full swing. At this point in my story, I should mention that I used to live with my cousins, all three of whom were the quintessential jocks you find in any cheesy high school movie. They were aggressive, mean, and would terrorize almost everyone who did not look and act like them. My heart pounded as soon as I saw all the cars lined up in our driveway and along the street.

My poor, innocent, completely doomed date and I entered the house. My cousins and their friends immediately zeroed in him. I explained what happened while trying to usher him through the crowd.

“Holy shit, did you guys run here from the beach?” laughed one cousin.

“This is what happens when you date fat losers,” said another cousin. “We’re going to have a talk, D.C.”

“You can use our phone but stay the fuck away from the fridge,” said the third.

Their friends joined in on these comments and a couple of them started to push him around a bit. I lost it, of course, and after putting the assholes in their place they stopped manhandling my date (I could be quite the bitch when the situation called for it).

Second Cup Guy called his dad, who agreed to meet him at his car but not one of my cousins or their friends would give him a ride back to the beach. They did not want his sweaty body damaging their upholstery, they said. I offered to walk my date back to his car but he declined. So I walked him to the end of my driveway and apologized for my cousins’ behaviour. Despite the disaster that was our date, he still tried to kiss me, at which point we heard a large rap from the bay window. We turned to see my cousins and their friends shouting and holding up their fists. The door opened and my date moved faster than I had thought possible for him, disappearing into the night.

Needless to say, I never heard from the guy again, which would have been a fortunate thing had I not wanted my purse back.

dead cupid

So folks, now that I have bared my soul and relived a snippet of my unfortunate past, why don’t you do the same?  Give me a shorter version (because I tend to run off at the mouth) of your worst date in the comments section. Leave your email and you might even win a copy of my novella, The Rusty Nail. Then, why not check out all the other worst first dates floating around the internet courtesy of Rebel Ink’s anniversary blog hop. There are a tonne of prizes and equally painful stories…

Kate Roth                                            Melissa Keir                                        Lila Munro

JL Oiler                                                  Lori Gordon                                        Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

Eleanor Tatum                                   Elicia Seawell                                      Wendy Smith

Suzzana C Ryan                                 Remmy Duchene                             Eden Glenn

Al Lohn                                                 BL Morticia                                          DC McMillen

Donna Steele                                     Anne Holly                                          Sabrina McAfee

Sarah Bella                                          Eden Connor                                      Cassandre Dayne

Dakotah Black                                    DH Black                                              Mollie Fiegel

Blair McDowell                                  Kiki Howell

DB Moon                                             Holley Trent                                       Nancy LaPonzina

Janelle Lee

33 Comments leave one →
  1. juliabarrett permalink
    August 17, 2012 4:46 pm

    Oh honey, your lovely and hilarious bad date seems so oddly sweet. I’m just glad he wasn’t a serial killer, a sweaty, red-faced serial killer. 🙂

    • August 18, 2012 10:19 pm

      Sweet right up until the purse theft. 🙂

      • juliabarrett permalink
        August 19, 2012 12:44 am

        You’re right about that!

  2. August 17, 2012 6:02 pm

    Great story!

    I haven’t had a truly disastrous date like that. I guess the worst one I can remember is when I went out with a guy who turned out to be a total chauvinist pig – you know, has to be better than girls at everything – and I whupped his ass at mini golf. I even got a hole in one by (accidentally) bouncing the ball off a palm tree.

    So for the rest of the evening he was torn between trying to butter me up so he could get some, and being pissed off that I’d beat him at mini golf. Needless to say, that was our last date as well as our first. 🙂

  3. August 17, 2012 8:33 pm

    I agree with Julia that your failed date sounds oddly sweet, D.C.! I think I would be the most irritated over losing my purse. Guess he couldn’t stand the humiliation of facing you after that, eh?

    I married the only guy I ever dated, so I’m at a loss here. Sure, we’ve had some lousy dates, but that doesn’t seem to have made much difference in the nearly 14 years we’ve known each other. 😉

    • August 18, 2012 11:01 pm

      You’ve probably had some awesome dates, too, so they even out. 🙂

  4. August 17, 2012 9:17 pm

    Oh, I have some bad date stories but one of the ones that I’ve thought of recently due to a conversation about Italian food is about a guy that attended my high school. We didn’t know each other in high school but it gave us something to talk about. Well, we meet for lunch as our first date. I had to work that evening and he really wanted to go out. He picked me up and drove me to a little local Italian food chain (that doesn’t really have amazing food but breadsticks the breadsticks are pretty awesome). The waitress turned out being someone we recognized from high school also but couldn’t remember her name. She was also about 8 months pregnant. Every time she walked by, he would start cracking jokes about how she had gotten fat, or her butt had gotten so wide. It went on and on. I tried to explain that the girl was pregnant and to give it a rest. He wouldn’t. At one point, she tripped and spilled a tray of drinks on herself and the floor. The dude started cracking up and wouldn’t shut up. I then asked him to take me home. There was never another date.

    My husband (before he met me) once was going on a double date with a buddy and the buddy’s girlfriend said she’d “like to go somewhere nice, like the Olive Garden.” My husband asked, “Which one?” She was not amused.

  5. August 18, 2012 12:36 am

    My parents made me date my stalker because “it’s the polite thing to do after he drove all the way from Kentucky.” This guy had been stalking me for nearly a year (it was a lot less threatening back then to be stalked by someone who lived far away…there was no internet), calling my friends, calling my boss, calling my college, etc. We went on one horribly awkward trip to a movie in broad daylight, then he dropped me off at the house. I RAN from the car, mostly before it had come to a complete stop. Only after he sat in the driveway for another three hours did my dad start to think something might be wrong with him. My mom was not at all nonplussed by his sitting there, since she kept cajoling me into inviting him into the house. I tried explaining that inviting them in renders you powerless, but she didn’t believe me.

    • August 19, 2012 3:58 pm

      It boggles my mind how some people are flattered or feel that others should be flattered by over the top, overbearing, mentally unbalanced behaviour. I feel for you, Lorca.

  6. August 18, 2012 1:06 am

    And your story is what makes me glad at having been an awkward teen with no dates, LOL

  7. August 18, 2012 4:09 am

    I engaged in online dating for several years, and eventually met my wife that way. However, before I got there, I had many disastrous dates. I got to the point where I’d say, “either I’ll have a good time or I’ll have a story to tell.”

    The top story was the date with a very insecure woman–which I did not realize until we met face to face. We sat down for drinks and she immediately asked, “so, what do you think? Do you think this has a chance?”

    My reply: “Umm, I’d like to see how the evening goes before I make any decisions.”

    “Are you sure?”

    “Look, I can either be trying to have a good time or I can be in the back of my mind evaluating and judging everything that happens. I’d rather try to have a good time and save the judgements until tomorrow.”

    This seems to calm her down enough that we actually have a pleasant enough time to move from drinks to dinner. Except then she asks: “I know you said you didn’t want to make any decisions until tomorrow, but what do you think about us?”

    I’m thinking, “we wouldn’t have gone to dinner if I thought there was a problem” but this second question has thrown a yellow flag. So what I say is, “I really want to wait until tomorrow.” She argues with me a bit, but lets it drop.

    So then during dessert she says, “Look, I know you said you didn’t want to make any decisions about a future until tomorrow, but what do you thing our chances are?”

    Backed into a corner, I say, “I’m sorry, but I don’t see a future together.”

    She starts crying. Then she says she can’t be strong and bolts from the table. I pay the bill despite a discussion about splitting the check before we went to dinner, lean back and have a cup of hot tea, and then go home.

    The next day, there’s a message on my voicemail asking for another date. I don’t return her call.

    • August 19, 2012 4:00 pm

      I think she should give Lorca’s stalker a call. The two could get married and have a dozen mentally unbalanced children.

  8. August 18, 2012 6:06 am

    I don’t think my worst first date is safe for the internet. But thanks for the laugh!

  9. August 18, 2012 11:35 pm

    My worst first date doesn’t even approach that. The worst I can say is I dated a guy who, when he found out I liked to read and write, looked at me like I was insane, and announced he didn’t understand that. We suffered through the rest of dinner without much to say and I certainly never called him again!

    • August 19, 2012 4:03 pm

      Yeah, I really don’t get reading and writing, myself. Like, wouldn’t the world get on a lot easier if we could just cut out that avenue of communication and self expression? While we’re at it, let’s shun footwear and Penicillin.

  10. August 19, 2012 4:19 am

    My worst date was also my first date. At 15, I’d convinced my parents to allow me to meet a guy at an annual music festival we always went to as a family. It was just a big open field with a stage at one end. You could park wherever, and sit by your car, or wherever, camp, have a bonfire, pretty much anything went.

    So, we get there, and my fella shows up, wanting to take a walk along the vendors’ booths visit some friends on the other side. Nope. My wonderful parents insist that we stay there with them, sit in lawn chairs beside them, not even behind! They did finally relent long enough to let us walk to a food booth within sight, and straight back.

    After a few hours, he excused himself. As soon as he was gone, the rules went back to normal, and I could wonder around the grounds as I pleased. I hated my parents for a full month over that one, LOL.

  11. Loni permalink
    August 19, 2012 5:44 am

    I don’t have a worst date because I didn’t realize I was on a date half the time. I just thought my guy friend was acting weird and wondered why none of our other friends had come along. That happened a lot, especially with two guys. And really it’s their own fault for not telling me we were on a date. If they had I wouldn’t have been so confused about why they kept leaning towards me and trying to hold my hand.

    • August 19, 2012 4:07 pm

      Oh, I’ve had those! A seemingly normal teenage boy turns into a fidgeting, stumbling disaster for apparently no reason and then at the end of the night, you suddenly get it when he tries to kiss you. By then you are so on edge over his odd behaviour that you just want to hide under the covers and reevaluate your friend and life choices.

  12. August 20, 2012 2:05 am

    Oh, I am so glad I am done with the dating scene. That was awkward and hilarious.

  13. Lady Quixote permalink
    August 21, 2012 3:20 am

    I was in my 40s, divorced, and most of my friends were married or otherwise part of a couple, so I decided to try the online matchmaking thing. After sharing a few interesting emails with one guy, I agreed to meet at the Barnes and Noble for coffee, since we both liked to read and it was a nice, safe public place.

    First of all, the guy looked nothing like his picture. His beard and hair probably hadn’t been cut, or washed, in years, and his clothes weren’t good enough for Goodwill. Still, I wanted to be polite and at least stick around for coffee, after all the friendly emails we had exchanged.

    But THEN he starts telling me that he practices Witchcraft, and he had cast some kind of magic spell so that I would fall madly in love with him.


  14. Lady Quixote permalink
    August 21, 2012 3:36 am

    …and then there was the guy that a friend introduced me to, saying that he had begged her to introduce me because he found me so irresistably attractive. Only after a somewhat strange dinner out, followed by increasingly weird voice mail messages from this guy the next day, did I finally piece together what was really going on… the guy had come to town to try to get his girlfriend to go back to him, only she wouldn’t do it, because she was happily dating a new guy. In asking around about this guy his ex was now dating, someone told him that I had briefly dated the guy who was now involved with his ex. So he contrived to meet me, in order to pump me for details about the guy his ex was involved with!

    I ended up having to call his ex-girlfriend to warn her that in his last phone message to me, he told me he was going up to her house to “take care of the situation,” and then her new boyfriend would be free, if I still was interested in the guy… !! She immediately went to the police and got an order of protection. Meanwhile, I changed my cell phone number and thanked my lucky stars that the creeper had no idea where I lived.

    • August 21, 2012 12:57 pm

      What, you mean you weren’t interested in executing a well planned sabotage of an innocent couples relationship to help out some mentally ill dude? That’s weird. 😉


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