Audience Participation
Ever go to a concert where the band has a song that involves audience participation? Usually they run through what they want you to sing, let the crowd practice a few times, and then tell them what their cue is. When the crowd gets into it, it's a great time.
That's what we're gonna do today. I'd love to see everyone who reads this join in, whether you're a regular, this is your first time here, you read but don't comment, or anywhere in between. Got it? Cool.
Here's what you need to do to play. Click that little link at the end of this post that says "hit it," and give me the story of your craziest bad date. I'm sure you've got one, 'cause everybody has been on at least one bad date in their lifetime. The craziest story (INPY you're totally disqualified here) wins a special random prize from yours truly. And yes, you're still eligible even if you live very far away. I'll eat the postage. We'll pick a winner in a few days.
Ready? Go!
15 comments:
He he...ya, I figured.
I offer up this story, humbly (?) knowing that it's not the craziest thing out there by any strech. INPY, I mean you. But it is my craziest thing. So there.
Rule no. 1: Never accept a date set up by your mother. So my mother sets me up with her podiatrist. She describes him as her 'doctor' originally. I ask, 'which doctor'? She perhaps knowingly misinforms me that he's a chiropractor. Tell me there's not a major difference in perception there, with all due respect to the doctors of feet. She has apparently described me in glowing terms to said 'doctor.' He wants to go out. Meh, I think. At least he's a doctor. She also describes him as good looking.
Rule no. 2: Never believe someone else's description of 'good looking.' He shows up for the date, looking like a cross between Neil Sedaka and Neil Diamond. His head is a mass of hair gel -- not a mere dollop. And to show I'm shallow, I notice he's wearing light tan shoes. I'm socialized to believe literally light-colored loafers mean less of a manly man. Yes, I'm a horrible person. Did I mention he's wearing a lavendar top?
Rule no. 3: Never trust a man who is trying to compensate. Here's the tenor of our conversation, and by conversation I mean him talking and my listening for Four. Straight. Hours. His patients (he tells specific stories) are too fat (um, doctor-patient privilege? um, my MOM is one of your patients!?!), his BMW is hot isn't it?, his brother lives in a mansion but he doesn't want one yet, here let me order for you without asking what you want*, wait let's talk more about me... *He ordered a flight of Burgundy. I'm the definition of lightweight. Looking at alcohol makes me tipsy. I tell him I can't handle that. He orders anyway. I realize the second glass is sweet sweet anesthesia for the evening and thank my genes for their weakness.
The evening ends awkwardly. I say thank you, he says he'd really like to meet up again, I smile and laugh with an adolescent boy-crack of a giggle and give an ascending-octave reply of, 'uhm, that would be ni-ice.'
Crazy's relative. This guy wasn't as bad as the guy who checked the bounciness of my mattress and asked if that was 'where all the action is.' But he was my perfect storm.
I once went on a date w/a guy who spent a good deal of the date telling me all about his 'yeast' problems. I think I need not say anymore for you to know just exactly howhorrible that date was.
I think I’ve talked about this experience before, but I kind of suspect it’s worth the retelling.
L and I met up at a coffee shop, and conversation went well enough to merit a date 2 – at an adorable Greek bar/restaurant in Cleveland Park. After we had been there for a half hour or so, I picked up my phone, which was flashing the little “missed call” indicator unique to the old-school StarTac. I asked L if he had called, because the number was a 202 that I didn’t recognize. I showed him the number, and he paled. “Who do you know who works for DoJ?” he wanted to know. I assured that I was a humble law student, with no such connections.
He then said he recognized this number, that it belonged to his ex-girlfriend. I called the number back. “Hey, this is Dagny – you called?”
“Yeah, hi. Um, this is K. Are you with L right now, on a date?”
“I’m with L, and I thought it was a date. What’s going on?”
“I’m in his apartment, and I checked his email, and I saw what was going on. I have a key to his place, you know. We’ve been dating for months.”
“K, well, um. Thanks for… letting me know?”
L tried to claim that he and K had been broken up for a while, and that he just never bothered to get his key back. As I sat there, too bemused to move, his explanation dragged on for at least a half hour. He must have thought I was okay with the situation, because he then said, “By the way – if we wind up going back to my place, I just thought you should know that I’m on medication for bipolar disorder.”
The metro and I were reacquainted in a few short minutes.
I kind of hope it worked out for those two crazy kids. They were kind of perfect for each other.
I have a whole blog dedicated to the three worst dates of my life. My "favorite" is the one that ended with the guy kicking me out of his car and leaving me on the side of the road (http://unbelievablybaddates.blogspot.com/2004/06/last-bad-date.html).
I guess it's my favorite because of the awesome punchline.
My second favorite is the one where the guy calls me at 3am and, indirectly, accuses me of stealing his wallet. (http://unbelievablybaddates.blogspot.com/2004/12/second-bad-date.html)
Are you suprised to learn that I met both of these winners on the internet?
The third bad date ended with mild physical violence. Oh yeah, I'm that bad.
Oh, I contest. I love contests. My list is kind of long, so I put it up on my blog (karma-is-kicking-me). I've been meaning to put it up for a while. Happy reading.
OK...here is a story neatly typed up.
I’ve had some odd first dates. I’ve had the crier, the one with park police and then capitol police involved, the one with him throwing up after a panic attack (due to first date sex), the one where the guy tried to pick up another couple, and even one where I felt physically threatened because he didn’t first take no for an answer.
But this is the one where I came close to tears…
He answers my ad. We chat back and forth. He seems like a nice, yet strangely odd guy. I figure he’s just nervous. We talk on the phone to set-up a date. He discusses that he feels comfortable around me. He asks if I want to come to a work happy hour with him as the first date. (Sign, Redhead, sign…) I say that is probably not the best way to get to know one another. After we set-up the date, he emails me and tries to get me into a discussion about S&M. Now, I try to be open-minded but kind of try to shut down that conversation. (Sign, Redhead, sign…) I keep the date, though.
We meet at a place across from where I work. He orders a diet coke and salad. (Sign, Redhead, sign…) I say, fuck it, and order an appetizer-size pizza. When it comes, he mentions the food I ordered looks greasy and heavy.
Trying to get off the subject, I ask about his hobbies. He starts to talk about his anxiety issues and whether I know about biofeedback being a psychologist. (I should just keep the psychologist part to myself from now on.) He goes on and on about how biofeedback has saved his life.
Then, he starts talking about how he used to be. (What, this is the improved version?) He mentions that in the past he’s dated any ol thing that will have him because he was so insecure. Now, in our original phone conversation, he mentioned one ex-wife and one kid. At dinner he’s discussing that he’s living with his ex-fiancée due to financial reasons…and that she is trying to get him back into bed with her. He’s also now mentioning the second ex-wife with the second kid. Then, for a gentle nudge toward the cliff, he says he’s not looking for anything serious.
The next part is the one that actually floored me. He asks me about having kids with my ex-husband. I said I like kids. He asks have I ever tried with my ex-husband. I say yes. (Why, why can’t I just learn to lie about some things?) He asks “do you have a fertility problem?” (WTF. First of all, you’re not looking for anything serious, remember? Second, way to go for the soft underbelly.) I say I don’t know and start to well up. I really am caught off-guard and want to leave, but somehow I think THAT will be rude.
For the kill, he asks what I’m looking for in a guy. I said “didn’t you read the ad?” He asks me to repeat it. I do. He asks how he is not those things. I say “you seem like you have a lot on your plate right now.” He replies “well, you have stuff you need to deal with from your divorce.” He asks if he can have a second date, and then starts argues with me over why he won’t get a second date.
We’ve parked in the same parking garage and he tries to walk me to my car. I just randomly point to some part in the garage as to where it is and say “bye.” As he’s walking to white utility van, I pray to god that the windows aren’t all blacked out, as that might smack of being too much like a serial killer van.
I tried posting this before, but it doesn't appear to have worked...
I don't think I can top Jamy being dropped off miles from her house or Redhead's strange dude's inappropriate line of questioning, but I'll share my reigning favorite. It's actually one of the reasons I started blogging. (And, lmnt, I'm pretty sure I'll be back to that next week. I'll still get ya that beer, though. ;-))
Ice Cream Guy
For good measure, I'm also throwing in a link to a post about a date in which I behaved badly. The poor guy...
Abstinence Boy
I'll gladly buy Jamy and Belle a beer or bourbon (or two) for those stories. Wow. It's nice to know I'm not alone, but wow.
LMNtal - I'll even buy you one for seeming like a decent guy. ;)
I hereby fold my bad date because I've been raised by much worse dates... I feel like a whiner now :) I bow to you guys...
I showed up for a blind date with a guy who was SIGNIFICANTLY shorter than I am (I'm only 5'6", so it's really not that hard to be taller than I am.) He was wearing one of those awful mafioso button-down shirts, but not buttoned up enough, so his chest hair was sprouting out. He also smelled like an old man.
Thankfully, we had broken the cardinal rule of first dates and decided to see a movie, so I could watch without having to interact much, and, post-date, I decided to high-tail it out of there. He walked me to my car in the parking garage and when he asked me for a second date, I told him I was going out of town for a few weeks to be with my grandma while she had heart surgery (not a lie) and so it was just really bad timing. In what must have been an attempt to save face, he then told me that he was worried his roommate was going to kill herself, so he probably would be busy too and had to leave immediately. I had no idea what to say.
I know this is nowhere near as bad as some of the others, but it's the first one that sprung to mind.
Let's see, which story shall I share?
The guy who got arrested on our first date?
The guy who wore Vulcan ears to our first date?
The guy who brought his grandmother - in a wheelchair, with an oxygen tank - to our first date?
i feel like mine pales in comparison. but I shall tell it anyway...
I met this really hot guy at a halloween party. We hit it off, he called me the next week, we made plans for friday. He said he wanted to make me dinner. I thought this was a little weird for a first date, but he's a teacher, so I figured he just wanted to save the money, and I can respect that.
he comes to pick me up at my house. I bring wine. In the car on the way to his house (~30 min away) he asks about my job. It's kinda technical since I'm an engineer, but I put it in real world terms for him, talking about the hydrogen economy and stuff. "Wow. That sounds really boring." was his response. We're ten minutes in, people. And I'm stuck in his car.
we got to his place, he showed me around, he finished making dinner. he offered me NOTHING. no water. no wine. (which I'd brought!) no appetizer. and he wouldn't allow me to help. I hung out in the kitchen, left when I was moved out of his way for the third time, looked at his sparsely decorated apartment, waited, waited, waited. SOBER. I spent quite some time looking at a map of michigan, his home state. seriously.
he was almost done with dinner, he said, so I offered to set the table. nope. I offered to open the wine. "not yet but thanks." he said. I said I wanted to look at the recipe, but he was "using it."
as it turns out, the pasta and sauce (and chicken) was pretty yummy but could have used more basil. I FINALLY got some wine, FINALLY, and I learned that the recipe was "you won't be single for long vodka cream pasta," which explains why he wouldn't let me see it.
when he took me home he came in for exactly ten minutes, told me he thought my two kitties were ferocious, and said "I'll call you" even though he never did. Like I would have answered, but whatever.
not quite as scary/illegal/weird as yours, but perhaps some of the most uncomfy hours of my dating life...le sigh.
I'm a little late with this, but I gotta share. I travel to San Fran alot, by myself. Against my better judgment I decided to accept the offer of a date with a family friend who lives out there. Scarily, my grandmother actually set this up. We meet, he picks me up from my hotel in a Vespa. Not a bad date until we are on the way back to my hotel.
All the sudden he turns quickly and we CRASH to the ground in the middle of a intersection. I get up my ankle is pretty messed up and the guy is OK except a pretty painful arm (which turned out to be broken).
He is freaking out because he has never had an accident before. I have totaled at least one car so my experience comes into play, and I end up consoling him until we gather ourselves enough to make it back to the hotel. I then had to swear not to tell my grandma that this happened. IT was the most memorable date of my life and I still have the scar to prove it.
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