Astra Navigo is having a Bad Date blogging contest. Of course, that gets my mind muck stirred up. I couldn't resist. Stop by his page and read all the great stories!
I’m always sure that people have far worse experiences than me – but then again, the experience is rated by the perception of the beholder. Anyhow, it’s hard for me to decide which stories are more interesting than others. So, here is a sampling of bad dates from the top of my head.
Overkill:
Once upon a time back in the days of college, I met a guy who was the cousin of a famous Canadian hockey player. Apparently, he felt this was a great way to introduce himself. He also looked incredibly like the Door’s Jim Morrisson. I was never one to be fond of the whole “baby faceâ€� look, but after I got past the “I’m the cousin of…â€� and “people say I look just like…â€� he seemed actually kind of fun. He was friends with a whole gang of people that I’d been hanging out with, everyone seemed to adore him. I agreed to go out to dinner with him.
The day arrives and…his car is broken, could I pick him up? Instead of taking that as a bad omen, I went ahead and drove into his twisty turning Ringwood, NJ neighborhood and was forced into meeting his mother and grandmother. They ooh-ed and aahh-ed over me like I was going to marry him or something. First date, ladies!
We arrive at a nice restaurant with a bar area. While waiting for a table, he decides to play the jukebox… and plays Foreigner’s “Waiting for Girl Like Youâ€� while staring longingly in my eyes and telling me that this is now “our song.â€� FIRST DATE, dude! He also keeps looking me up and down and then making numerous compliments, too many. I’m getting very, very uncomfortable.
Dinner arrives, things are going okay except for me feeling a bit suffocated…and it begins to snow. It snows harder and harder. Crap, I think… we need to go. I insist that we leave so that I can drop him off and get to my house safely. We live in the “mountainsâ€� of NW New Jersey and the snow does get pretty difficult to drive in. By the time we get to his house, it is an all out blizzard. The fussing ladies of the house believe it is far too dangerous for me to drive, they insist on calling my family and telling them that I will be spending the night there. I am horrified. He insists. They insist. Before I know it, the phone call is being made.
2am, I am sleeping on the sofa that was made up for me to sleep on. I get the distinct feeling I am being watched. Cautiously, I peek through one lid…and there he is, inches from my face. Sitting on a hassock, staring at me, grinning foolishly, watching me sleep!
I was up with the sun, driving on not-well-plowed roads, making my escape. Thank God that I had to be at work early and had a good excuse.
When things seem right, but aren’t:
This guy, Tom, had been one of my dad’s math students. He was a football player on my high school’s team. At this time, he was taking pre-med at college. Silky black hair, great body, confident…and surprisingly interesting. After running into each other one night and enjoying an evening chatting, I agree to give him my phone number. He plays it cool and waits two days to call, then asks me out for Friday night.
Friday night – he’s got it going on. Dressed nicely, smells good, hair is perfect. He takes me out to dinner - a nice place. We talk, we laugh. All is going well. We then go out to a club called “Gigglesâ€� and…he can dance! Okay, so his hands are started to wander a bit, but I wasn’t too upset. I *liked* him. Hours went by and it was time to call it a night.
We begin driving home – holding hands. I’m thinking, “How sweet!â€� We’re talking about this and that, when he suddenly pulls over to the shoulder and says, “Okay, so we had a lot of fun, right? Let’s go to a motel – where is a motel around here?â€�
I’m floored. Speechless. At this point in my life I wasn’t a believer, and I definitely wasn’t frigid… but I didn’t expect such a bland, blatant request. After all, it’s not like it was said in the heat of passion or anything, we weren’t making out riotously. We were just driving. First date. It was almost…clinical. I was like, “Ummmm, no…I don’t think so.â€�
At this point, he quizzed me and argued with me for well over an hour - OVER AN HOUR - about why I would not go to a motel with him. He demanded that I have a good explanation (in his eyes) as to why I wasn't going to just drive to a motel and screw him. I think his logic really was, "I spent a lot of money on that expensive restaurant, these nice clothes, and for Pete's Sake I DANCED." Finally, when I was starting to get really nervous -- he was beginning to seem a little violent -- a cop pulled over and asked if everything was alright and suggested, “Young man, you need to bring the lady to her home.â€�
Horror of horrors, my checkbook had fallen out in his car. I didn’t realize it until two days later. I stopped my account. I never wanted to see him again. YET one week later, he had the nerve to call me…and before even offering to return my checkbook to me, he asked me out again…and was FURIOUS when I refused. He snapped. He had fully expected me to say, "Yes." He told me he’d be at such n’ such a place if I changed my mind – and I did go there, with two male friends, to pick up my check book.
The Sore Knees: I also went to the movies once with a guy who seemed really nervous to be dating me. He casually reached over and put his hand on my knee about half way through the movie. He then began kneading my knee, massaging my knee, forcefully rubbing my knee…for the rest of the movie. I didn’t know what to do. I was young, clueless and stupid. Do I move my knee? Do I spill popcorn so he has to let go?
Lobster: The first time ever, ever, I was taken out for lobster, I had no idea what to do with the darn thing. I watched what other people were doing and tried to use that nut-crackerish implement. It sent my lobster tail soaring through the air until it landly with a squishy thud on a table approximately 8 feet away. Fortunately, my date thought it was rather cute. Too bad he later turned out to be the dud of duds...he stalked me for the next gazillion years.
A Date that Didn't Happen: This poor guy in town kept asking me and my best friend out, but never when we were together. He'd tell every girl dumb things like, "You should be a model. I know someone..." and we would later compare his pickup lines. Anyhow, one particular day he was trying to ask me out yet again and he was scrambling for words. "Why don't you come to my apartment and we can watch MTV (it was new then)... I have peanuts. I have a big bag of peanuts." Hmmm, peanuts? Oh, that is definitely irresistible.
~o~
Okay, I can’t write anything without worrying about my workout log for the day.
Running - 65 minutes in the graveyard. Yoga plans for later. J
