Be careful out there, the dating scene is a series of crazies, loonies, wackos, psychos and charlatans!
He Prefers Paypal, Please
“I went out on a date with this d-bag. After the date he texted me, that he likes me, but he feels sad, that I did not want to kiss him. I explain that I do not have any romantic feelings for him, but I have had a nice time anyways. Then he asked me to transfer the money for the last two drink he paid for.”
My date (a fashion photographer) drives me to his mother’s house, seats me in the den and puts a pornographic cartoon (Fritz the Cat) in the DVD player. While I’m watching the first few minutes, stunned (porn? porn on a first date? what the hell?), he disappears and has a few belts of hard liquor to strengthen his nerve (first-date jitters). He has one too many, however, comes back falling-down drunk, and starts vomiting. He spends the next 2 hours in the bathroom, throwing up, while I pass him cold, wet towels. He finally crawls into bed, and I take a cab home.
“Several years ago I met a man online who seemed nice. We had some things in common and had decent phone conversations. He asked to meet for brunch and I agreed.
My rule is that I drive on blind dates. It gives you better control of the situation, and I don’t want crazy stalkers knowing my address. I picked him up at his friends mechanic shop. He seemed nice enough, but I noticed instantly he had sent me a picture of an entirely different person. He was missing many teeth and was morbidly obese, but he seemed kind. Kind matters. So we head to brunch and things seem ok, not great, but tolerable. As we talk I start to wonder where, exactly, he lives. He’s talking about the long drive to his home, etc etc. I find out that he has driven 5 hours to see me FIVE and he intends to spend the entire weekend with me. At my house. Where I live. He has a full weekend of outings planned, including sleeping in my bed. Um No. I told him no thank you, but he was so insistent and pushy that I ended up excusing myself to the restroom. I hit the front door and ran like heck.”
Not What He Was Looking For I Guess…
“I’m a 58-year old single woman who occasionally gets hits on Match.com. Rarely does anything interesting pop up, except . . .
This one not-bad-looking guy asks to meet me – he’s 35 years old.
What-the-whuckity-whuck? Is this just an attempt at cougar conquest from a guy born after my HS graduation?
I had to see for myself.
I spent an hour on my makeup to try to look younger, then met him at Starbuck’s. After a brief chat – seen any movies lately? etc. – he smacks his hands on the table and says, “Welp, it was great meeting you. ‘Bye.” He then pushes himself up and walks out.
I sat there for a moment, stunned, then looked at the time on my watch: exactly 16 minutes had elapsed since I sat down.
I had spent more time putting on makeup than actually being on the date”
Who’s More Embarrassing?
“I’m sitting at dinner with a girl who I’m on a date with from Tinder. Let’s call her Mary. So we meet up to have a coffee and then as it’s around 6.30pm-ish we head out to get some dinner. Seafood is the place we pick – and since it’s not yet 7 and we’re around Shoreditch, London – most places are fairly quiet. We are sitting chit chatting and getting to know each other – all the usual things to be expected from a first date. I have a good ‘run’ of 5 minutes where I really get her laughing. We’re one of only 4 people (another couple) in the restaurant and the music they play is relatively low so you can pretty much hear everything everyone is saying. She let’s out a loud giggle as we’re discussing the relative merits of shark versus cod and then descending into making ‘great white’ jokes… When all of a sudden…Squeeeeeeeeeeelch. I stopped talking immediately. The silence reverberated around the restaurant. Mary sat frozen like a deer caught in the headlights. She had accidentally farted. However. The squelch also sounded dangerously like a ‘follow-through’ type fart. At this point I can’t help it. I’m shocked but also in hysterics and start laughing out loud. She is going bright red and I’m doing my best to reel it in. I am wondering if this pretty girl has soiled her pants just slightly. I think I could have perhaps handled the wet fart. We hadn’t actually ordered food yet. Mortified she excused herself to the ladies room almost instantly. Then things got even worse. Mary scuttled to the bathroom rapidly. As she got up, there came a horrendous smell that wafted over to my nose and hit me like a sledgehammer. It was diabolical. Like we’d already had the seafood, desert and then washed it down with a bottle of wine and licorice. The smell was nauseatingly spectacular. At this stage our ‘company’ had noticed something was amiss. And I knew that the ‘smell’ would be upon them soon as well. I went from laughter to lucidity to do what needed to be done. I stood up, left, ‘unmatched her’ from Tinder, deleted her phone number, blocked her on Whatsapp and deleted our chat entirely Then I immediately told all my mates 🙂 Oh what an amazing night. Thank you Mary!”
Do You Have A Kiss For Daddy?
“I was a freshman in High School, and had yet to kiss a girl. She was a senior. She was my first girlfriend. She was trying to convert me to Christianity, and I was trying to get to second base. We had been dating for like a month and the fact that any girl would take interest in me was a thrill in and of itself. Even if it meant being limited to the occasional kiss on the cheek and hand holding.
So we went bowling. Around the 7th frame, she sat on my lap. It was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to me. Then we started kissing. This, up to that moment in time, was officially trumping the whole lap thing. Then, our tongues collided in that awkward teen first kiss kind of way. It was, in hindsight, really tame making out, but to me, in that moment, was the most amazing thing ever in the history of the known universe.
2 minutes later, she said something that was seared into my brain, never to leave, that will haunt me to my dying day.
“You kiss like my father.”
For the record, it wasn’t because I kissed in a paternal way. Being a freshman boy, with no coping skills or ability to really comprehend what she just said, I sort of panicked and pretended like nothing happened. I should have called the police or something. Instead I went to prom with her a week later, and then broke up with her and then didn’t date anyone for another year. Not my best show.”
Wait, You’re Not Brad Pitt?!?
“I met a guy from a dating website. We’d exchanged a few messages, had a laugh, so arranged to meet for a drink.
When we met, it became apparent his photos were extremely flattering. I recognized him, but just. Online we’d had some great conversations. In the flesh he had absolutely no personality. We struggled to make conversation. It was extremely awkward. Eventually he started talking about his ex, and that was the only time the conversation flowed. There was absolutely no chemistry and talking about your ex? Yeesh. The amazing thing was that he clearly didn’t find it at all uncomfortable as he text and asked for another date. Er, no thank you.”
“I had a relationship of convenience with Colleen, an unspeakably cute Irish girl. That shifted a bit as she asked for a favor. Her sister was staying with her for a bit, and could I take her out for the evening? Colleen explained that she’d really changed a lot since I’d seen her a few years ago, and that I wouldn’t be disappointed, and that if I were, she’d make it up to me. OK, I’m in. Dinner, drinks, a walk around the park, lots of very entertaining conversation, some pretty serious flirting. Eventually, she slipped into my lap, kissed me, and said “Let’s go back to the apartment.” As she was kissing me for the first time, there was an explosion of drywall and wood as the front door shattered. A short, stocky, very angry woman stood in the debris, breathing hard. She saw us, pointed at Sheila and screamed something unintelligible, then broke a bar stool and using a leg from it, ran at us, knocking Shelia off me, and alternating beating the two of us with it, yelling “That’s MY p—! Keep the f— away from her!” I’m trying to stand up, get the stool leg away from her, protect Sheila and navigate with my pants around my ankles all at the same time. Just about the time I’d grabbed her, and was wrestling for control of the stick, four police officers burst through the door with guns drawn. There was no happy ending. Sheila was back in town because she was on parole from an embezzlement charge. She’d met Grace, the short angry woman, in prison, and they’d become an item. Grace was on parole for second degree manslaughter, pled down from murder. Grace had been trying to get back with Sheila, Sheila wasn’t feeling the love. Grace had followed us all night, and beat up the doorman to find out which apartment we were headed for. The doorman called the police, explaining their seemingly rapid arrival. I was released, but both Grace and Sheila went away with the officers, heading back to prison for various parole violations”
Big Bird Meets Napolean
I am 6 feet tall. I was asked out by a guy who claimed to be 5’9″. Considering it’s not TOO much of a height gap, I told him I was 5’9″ meters as well. When we finally met for our date, it had turned out he exaggerated his height a bit. He was actually 5’6″. Somewhere in there, we thought we would be the same height, but we definitely weren’t. I didn’t mind, though it was obvious he did. Apparently, he doesn’t like to have to “look up” at his dates. Oh well. It takes one serious, determined man to handle all this woman!
A Flight Attendant In Spain And It All Goes Wrong
“A British stewardess in Torremolinos,Spain.
Within 5 min she informed me she had been selected over 600 applicants and that she was related to the Royal family.This was before “6 stages of” and it took her 10 stages to get to the Queen.
We first went to the opening of a club owned by Sheila Tennant, who was related to the Royal family. There was a crew from the BBC to cover the event and they interviewed my date and ignored me.
Next I took her to my condo and my female roomates were there. Normally at that hour they were driving their convertible in town. They disliked her on sight.
It was a valuable educational experience. I learned exactly what is meant by “Too much work”.”
A Success Story (Despite Hitler!)
“It was my first date ever. I was 21 years old, socially awkward and traumatized by my lack of success at been a desirable college girl. I had been chatting for hours a day during months with this classmate (the good all times with the Messenger chat and its dancing naked pig) and I had recently given up trying to get his attention. I had enroll in summer classes just to see him again and I gave him all the details, adding that we could go for ‘coffee’ if we ran into each other (smooth!). He enrolled, but he though greek mythology and wherever-the-other-course-was I enrolled in were stupid, so he chose other courses in completely opposite days. -Well, that solves it, he is definitely not into me- I wrote to him I was about to stop wasting my time on our chats and went to bed crying. I remembered he said something at the end about going to the movies. Next day, we catched a bus to the movie theater. If it was a ‘date’ or he had a plan, I had no idea, and I was too depressed to care anymore. If it was a date would have been just out of desperation anyway. We arrive and there’s only two movie choices: Cheaper By The Dozen 2 or Downfall. So, What to choose? One was a boring, stupid movie about having kids…(I think, I actually have never seen it) and the other was a critic-acclaimed film about Hitler going crazy in his bunker. We rushed into another awkwardness moment and there we were watching Downfall. We’ve been together for 10 years after that, and we count that day as the beginning of our ‘been-together’ time. We were the couple making out while cinema-Hitler blew his brains out (but not because of it, despite of it!) Some people just don’t date well, but not me. I’m 31 years old, I have been in just one ‘date’ and it was an incredibly successful one.”
Tom Cruise Doesn’t Treat His Mother Like That
“Many moons ago, before I was a happily married lass, a pair of friends set me up on a date with a buddy of theirs. He was an actor / musician, I had his album (burnt via my mates, so don’t get excited: this is NOT a ‘celebrity in disguise’ story — this is a ‘celebrity wannabe in absolutely no attempt to disguise it’ story). We’d met briefly at a party and I’d been suitably intrigued. I was around 18, he was early 30s, and I must confess his music was very good. I wasn’t so silly as to think he was the next big thing, but you’d have to be a massive jerk not to acknowledge that he clearly had immense talent. I had a history of dating older fellas, but I was also very no-nonsense and sceptical of ego and self-absorbtion. So. The date is suggested, I agree and suggest we see a play happening nearby, but I was keen to stick to my usual blind(ish) date rule: always be the driver. It stops you getting drunk, you have control over the way the night rolls, and most importantly you usually pick them up from their house — and brother can you learn a lot from a man’s house! In this instance it was a relatively small flat (okay, he’d only recently moved to the city), the furniture was mostly disposable (again, he’d recently moved), but the strangest thing was that the TV was on when I arrived. ‘Take a seat,’ he said, gesturing to the unfolded card table in the corner. ‘I’m just setting up the video to record an ad I was recently in.’ (NB this was the year 2000, when one still had a VHS). Okay, thinks I, that’s reasonable: he’s new to the city, keen to add to his showreel, I totally appreciate that he needs to record his advert to get work. Fifteen minutes pass. We’re watching AWFUL TV together while he sits on the edge of his bean bag waiting for his ad to come on. In this time, I’ve delighted in noticing that his bed is just a mattress on the floor (it’s okay, he’s just moved, he’s just moved…), his primary instrument for cooking is a George Foreman Grill (‘They’re surprisingly good!’ ‘Uh huh…’), and the card table is looking a little bit wobbly. The phone rings.
Him: ‘Hang on, I have to take this.’
Me: ‘Oh, that’s fine…the play doesn’t start until 8…’
Him: ‘…Hello? Oh you saw it?’ (I realize it’s his Mum, who lives in a regional town that has different channels to the city) ‘…so you didn’t record it? You…you…didn’t…seriously, Mum, you had one job. ONE F—ING JOB! All you had to do was record the F—ING ADVERT! And you couldn’t even do that could you? You are seriously f—ing useless. Why did you even call me? Why?? What’s the point of you calling me right now?’ …and so on. So I am 18, listening to a 30-year-old man abuse his mother for failing to record his awful advert for his rubbish, non-existent acting career. Awkward. Finally, we accept that the advert has been lost. I realize we are close to missing the play, so I suggest we head off. We go to a bar: he spends the whole time complaining about the ‘mother’ situation. We drive to the theatre: surprise surprise, the doors are shut and we miss out. He suggests we go to a Chinese restaurant where he used to get a massive bag of fried rice for $2 when he was a student. I want this night to end (and fast) so I agree. We eat the worst, most plastic Chinese food I’ve had in my life, while he talks about himself and I nod awkwardly. Finally, I feel I’ve suffered long enough and I say ‘so…shall I drive you home?’. As we drive home, he says: ‘You know I’m not going to sleep with you right?’ BE STILL MY BEATING V——! You mean YOU, abuser of mother’s, 30–year-old self-absorbed time-wasting lover of George Foreman Grill’s, do not wish to sleep with ME, 18-year-old silent judger of your awfulness?? Oh how my poor, poor heart breaks. And yet…at his door…he tried to kiss me.
Worst. Date. Ever.”
Only One Person To Blame
“One date that immediately comes to mind is that time I date-rape-drugged myself. I met a girl through Tinder, and our first date was at my place. Even though I’d seen her pictures online, I had never seen her in real life. A rule of thumb of Tinder or any other online dating site/app is to avoid meeting people at yours/their home unless you trust them and you’re 100% sure that you’re attracted to him/her.
I ignored that rule, and set up a Netflix and chill kinda date. Stupid. She shows up at my place and right off the bat I know I’m not physically attracted to her. She isn’t bad looking. Just not my cup of chai latte. On top of that, she has a bottle of vodka with her, which she immediately starts taking shots from. All things considered, that’s understandable. Things starts to get interesting when she declares her affinity for taking prescription meds. In fact, she has some with her, and of course it’s Flunitrazepam aka Rohypnol aka the date rape drug. To this day I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea for us to take Rohypnol, but we did. I’ve taken a range of drugs before, and never had any problems with them. I have a fairly high tolerance for drugs, and always feel that I’m in some degree of control. If you’re like me or you’re curious about taking drugs, I’d strongly advise you to never try Rohypnol. From about 30 min after taking it, around 9-10pm, until about 10am the next morning, my memory is blank. I remember nothing. I wake up and my place is a mess. There is broken glass all over the floor. An ashtray seems to have been flung across the room because there are cigarette butts and ash everywhere. My head feels very heavy, and I’m still wearing most of my clothes. I look to my left to find the girl, half naked, passed out on my bed. I don’t know if we had sex, but considering the mess of the scene, it’s very possible that we did. It’s incredibly scary to not have any recollection of what went down during those 12 hours or so. I really have no idea why I agreed to date rape drug myself. Especially with someone I don’t know. With someone who brings vodka and Rohypnol to a first date. Real life Rohypnol experiences are not like The Hangover. You probably won’t marry some stripper. And you probably won’t steal Mike Tyson’s tiger. You’ll just end up having a s—-y date.”
Not Very Open Minded
“I took a girl out to eat, and as a diabetic, I administered insulin with an insulin pump. She asked what it was and after I explained it to her, she looked puzzled. A few minutes later, she said “I’ll be right back. I have to use the restroom”. “Ok, sure” I said. She never returned. I texted her something, and she texted me something back, but I forgot what we texted, but I do remember whatever she texted was something negative about having seen the pump. I sat there depressed, ate both our meals, and ordered about 6 beers, then went home.”
“An actuary asks me out to see The Importance of Being Earnest at the local playhouse. At intermission, we’re out in the lobby, and he goes to the men’s room. He comes back with his hands dripping wet (no towels in the men’s room), sneaks up behind me, and wipes them quite vigorously on the back of my velvet dress. He does this to make one of the pretty female ushers laugh. When I get angry, he gets FURIOUS, because I have no sense of humor. We end up fighting in the lobby, and he throws a violent tantrum — because I wouldn’t let him wipe his wet hands on my evening dress.”
Scammers Gonna Scam
“This didn’t happen to me but someone I knew.
They met at the Cheesecake Factory. She ordered a salad (they were splitting the check and that restaurant was expensive) and he commented that she shouldn’t be afraid to eat in front of him because she “didn’t get her figure from eating no salads!” (My friend has PCOS which can make it extremely easy to gain weight and just as hard to lose it.) Then, after eating, he excused himself to the bathroom and proceeded to leave, skipping out on paying for his food. The next day, my friend discovered he’d had a device that read her bank card information by just being near her purse. He had cleared out her checking and saving account ($5000!).
She never saw him again. Police could find him either.”