16 Fed Up People Reveal The Infuriating Reasons They Walked Out During The Middle Of A Date

Most people know the horrors of a bad date, but sometimes they're sooo bad you can even try to make it to the end. From unforgivable actions to cringe-worthy statements, the following people reveal the details of their horrific dates and the final straw that made them up and leave in the middle of it.

Keep On Walking.

“Yup! During the third act of the play we were seeing, the guy I was on a date with looked deeply into my eyes and said: ‘I’ve decided what to name our children!’ I was seventeen and it was a first date. I told the kid that I had to use the restroom and just kept on walking” (Source).

Why She Really Offered To Pay For Dinner.

“Funny story. I was in Thailand and met a nice lady on Tinder. Boy met girl, had nice dinner out, banged girl in a very satisfactory way. She offered to take me out to dinner and pay (which my expat friends said was highly unusual, but whatever). After dinner we were on the way back to my hotel, and she said ‘Can we just stop in somewhere I want to show you something?’ I said sure, 10 minutes later we were in a giant shopping mall and she walked me straight towards a counter of small gold jewelry in a department store. She wanted me to buy her ‘something small,’ and when I was ambivalent she started trying things on. The cheapest thing she tried was around $500. I said ‘Sure baby, I’ll just go to the toilet, be back in a minute. Wait here…'” (Source).

He Deserved It.

“Yes, and he deserved it. I was 18 and he was 23, we met while I was in high school he was in college. He was really intense and on date #3, we were deciding to be exclusive or not. Anyway…

We are sitting at a restaurant saying how we shouldn’t date other people and just then his phone rings. And he answers it. It’s a girl and she’s talking loud enough for me to hear. Apparently she was wondering if he wanted her to move her things in that night or wait till morning.

He had the balls to stay on the phone with her while chasing after me” (Source).

Too Many To Count.

“I can think of more dates I bolted from than I’ll put down here:

-Guy told me this hilarious story about how he and his homies caught a cat on the fourth of July and put a firecracker up the little creature’s behind.

-Guy and friend (double date) kept up a running commentary on how other girls in the vicinity were too fat, ‘skaggy,’ and were rating them on the 1–10 scale, etc.

-Guy said he could tell if a girl gave head or not.

-Guy had ‘white power’ tattoo that I had not noticed before this first date.

-Guy kept bringing the conversation back to what a b—h his ex-girlfriends all were. I had the strong impression he was letting me know what his expectations were.

-Guy speculated whether or not my pubic hair was blond too.

-Guy pulled out chewing tobacco and helped himself to a wad.

These VERY short dates were when I was VERY young and alcohol was involved” (Source).

Why You Should Carry Cash On A First Date.

“We went out to a nice sushi restaurant she suggested. It was about 40$ per person which is expensive for my taste, but I had just sold one of my first patents and felt good about finally having some spending money so I didn’t mind. She seemed interesting, funny and smart but then she said it: ‘I would never pay for myself on a date, that’s the man’s job.’

I asked her, ‘What if you invited me out?’ She just shook her head, ‘Nope.’ I inquired, ‘What if you made more money than me?’ She responded, ‘Then you’re just not a man.’

I asked her if she thought men and women were equals, and she said women were superior in every way but physical strength. I asked how she reconciled equality between the sexes with a “men always pay” mentality, and she gave me this bulls-t run around answer that somehow ended with her proclaiming she didn’t hang out with people unless they were pretty.

I had a crisp 100 and I slowly unfolded it in front of her and the waiter, I told him to keep the change so she wouldn’t gyp him, and put it down on the table and told her nicely, ‘Enjoy your meal, on me.’ Then I left” (Source).

A Scary, Cautionary Tale.

“Before I begin, I want to make clear that apart from this one time, I would never get up and leave without good reason…

Anyone that has been on an internet date can relate to the issues that arise when meeting a stranger for the first time. This goes back years ago, I was 20, and had joined match.com. At that point, I was incredibly shy, never had a boyfriend before. My profile had respectable photos of me, and I made the effort of writing more than a few lines. This man sends me a message, we communicate back and forth (nothing remotely suggestive), and eventually plan to meet up. It transpired that we lived two streets away from each other, so we met at a pub mid-way between us. I don’t drink alcohol, but he offers to buy me an orange juice, we sit and chat. At first he appears charming, confident, chatty, the complete opposite to me at that age. He proceeds to drink a few beers. Then randomly the conversation takes a turn. Him: ‘Drink up, let’s go back to mine.’ Me (nervous): ‘I think that’s far too soon, I don’t know you at all.’ Him: ‘If you don’t come back, don’t expect a second date.’

Wow! What an arrogant, obnoxious twat. I calmly got up, took money out of my purse and put it on the table (I didn’t want to ‘owe’ him anything). I walked out. Funny thing was, he tried to contact me again, but his attempts were ignored. Even a few years ago, he sent me a message, I didn’t even read it. Despite all those years that had passed, first impressions count, and my memory hadn’t forgotten him. But there’s a twist to the story, which was to make my skin crawl.

Four years ago, I was reading the newspaper, there was an article on him. He had been convicted of raping women and was jailed for life. It came as a shock, because this guy had it all, a lifestyle most would envy. A banker, earning six figures, his own home in a nice area. Yet, he had a dark side, controlling women to think they were beneath him. I honestly didn’t think he was capable of that, but why would I? Despite the naivety of my youth, thank god, I didn’t drink alcohol, and had enough self-respect to instinctively walk away when someone spoke to me like he was in charge.

Be careful of meeting strangers, always tell a friend whom you’re meeting, and don’t get yourself drunk that you’re in a vulnerable position. I read recently that a teacher was murdered last year by their match date” (Source).

No Excuse For That.

“I met the girl on Lava Life. To my pleasant surprise, she was as pretty in real life as her profile was. And her Russian accent was intoxicating. The minute we began talking with each other in the coffee shop of our initial date, I sort of fell for her. She made me nervous, that’s how wonderful she seemed to me.

Nothing overtly romantic happened on that first date. We just got to know each other a little bit. Enough to set us up for a second date, at least. And a third, and a fourth.

She always seemed secretive about something. I was never sure what it was. She’d look off in the distance, and I wondered… Looking back, I suppose there were other signs too. She was very quiet about how she spent her days. And she never invited me back to her place. She told me about her time in Russia, and about how glad she was to be in Canada.

After about six months together, we went to a restaurant. Again, she got that far-off look. I put my fork down. I called her on it. ‘What’s wrong? What’s on your mind?’ And then for some reason I added ‘You look like you’re married with six children or something.’

She turned and looked at me. Her face went absolutely white. ‘Well, I don’t have any kids…’

With that, the communication dam broke. She hurriedly explained that she was married to a medical scientist. She told me about how his work keeps him so busy and that he’s almost never home. She told me how discontent she was…yadda yadda.

All I heard was ‘I lied when I put up my profile, saying I was single. And I am cheating on my husband with you.’ I don’t recall saying anything at all to her. Not ‘I understand’ and I certainly didn’t say ‘that’s okay’ – because it clearly wasn’t. I could not trust her. Instead, I pushed my still-full plate back, asked the server for the bill, paid it, and said goodbye to her” (Source).

The Woman From The Personals…

“Only once. I still feel guilty about it, but I am also soooo glad I did it too. So, during the early 1990s before internet dating there used to be a thing called ‘personals’ in the newspaper. There were ads placed by people who wanted to meet members of the opposite sex (or same sex or animals or whatever) and there was a coded number. You could call the number, enter the code and then leave a message for the person in the ad with the hope that they would call you back. It was a ‘price per minute’ and a single call could call as much as ten dollars. I had never done this before and was pretty mortified at the thought of a line showing up on my phone bill saying “]’Patriot Ledger Newspaper Personals – $10′ but I figured, what the hell, I will give it a try.

So I scanned the personals, circled a few that seemed interesting and then called and left messages. There were no photos exchanged. One day out of the blue I received a call from one of the women. Of course, you can’t remember the ad when the person calls so you just go with it and try to get to the next step. I asked the questions that were covers for the real questions – are you at least a little attractive? Do you like sex? And so on. At that time I was a hardened cyclist, in great shape and ready for action of any kind. I wanted someone who could challenge me – or at least ride around the block. I wanted someone who could climb Blue Hills or was interested in taking a glider tour. I wanted someone who could maybe buy ME a dinner at least once in awhile instead of me paying all the time. All of her answers indicated to me that she was up for all of it and capable of handling it. Yey. She wanted to meet at a bar I had never heard of before. I was pretty excited about the opportunity.

So the night came to meet her. I was wearing my best casual, driving my Mercedes convertible. But as I followed the map, I got more and more alarmed. It turned out the bar was near an abandoned shipyard, a downtrodden area: rat-infested, rusting and decrepit shipyard with its dark streets, rusting railroad cars, abandoned bars, restaurants, storefronts and rubbish-strewn streets.

I found the bar and left my car, now feeling a little less confident than I was before I arrived. When I crossed the parking lot I could smell the stale beer and see the desperation of the faded bar-front as I walked in. The only reason the place was still alive after the closure of the shipyard was that a coterie of determined, hardcore local drinkers kept it open. The place was dark. The floor was sticky. There were very few people that I could see. I took a seat at the dirty bar and ordered a beer from the uninterested bartender. I knew this couldn’t be good. I hoped like Hell she wouldn’t show up and I could just leave. But as I drank my beer I felt a tap on my shoulder. I slowly turned, but was pleasantly surprised to find a cute girl with a leather jacket. She asked if I was there for the date. I said yes. But then she said she was the ‘friend,’ sent over to make sure I wasn’t a creep. I had passed her test.

I grabbed my beer and walked over to the table. Sitting at the table was the most hideous looking woman I had ever seen. My heart sank. She giggled when I shook hands with her. She was at least 300 pounds. There was no way she was riding a bike anywhere. She wasn’t hiking anywhere except to the KFC. And she was wearing a black spandex tutu. I thought it was a joke. There was no way anyone who was serious would have worn an outfit like that. The only thing I could think of was a cartoon circus elephant wearing a pink tutu. And she was a dumb as a post. I cursed myself for not staying on the phone longer. She failed to meet any of my criteria for dating, every single one. She had no job. She was a welfare mom. She spent her evenings playing darts at the bar. She had no education. And on and on and on. I looked desperately around the bar. There was no way to escape. This was before the time of cell phones.

I bought a round of beers for the girl and her friend and one for myself, and then I excused myself to the men’s room. To make the miserable night complete the men’s room was a horror show of filth, stench and squalor. As I stood at the urinal a guy came in and took the urinal at the other end. ‘You aren’t really with that pig, are you?’ he asked me, ‘She’s a regular here. You’re not. Don’t make a mistake, buddy.’ I told him it was a gag, set up by a friend. He nodded. ‘There’s a side door by the kitchen,’ he said and walked out. He didn’t wash his hands. The sinks probably didn’t work. I ducked out the side door, feeling like a total s–t. No matter what, she didn’t deserve to be treated poorly by an a–hole like me. But as I drove away, my wheels spinning in the gravel, all I felt was free, free, free. I laughed in relief as my car made it to the highway and I hit the gas. The relief was palpable. I had dodged a bullet. I never pursued the personals again” (Source).

Nothing Like Her Tinder Picture.

“I left without telling her. We matched on Tinder, and we started chatting. She was listed as 30 years old, and she looked reasonably attractive in the photos. She invited me out for a ‘chat.’ I picked a bar in the area she was at. I didn’t know that area. So when I got there, the bar turned out to be a gay bar. Not ideal. I was standing outside the gay bar waiting for my Tinder date.

I had waited about 20 minutes when I spotted a woman approaching. She was wearing a revealing dress. She looked to be somewhere close to 40 years old. As she got closer I noticed that she had likely underwent extensive cosmetic surgery and botox injections. She didn’t look anything like my Tinder date. She entered the bar. A few minutes later she returned, went up to another guy, and asked him: ‘Are you Peter?’ I then realized that this woman was my Tinder date.

As we are introducing ourselves, I’m panicking inside. She doesn’t look anything like the pictures. But, I keep telling myself that she might be a cool person and decide to stick around and see where it goes. I suggest going to a different bar, so we get in a taxi. In the car, I’m getting a closer look at her appearance, which is unpleasant. Her face looks very unnatural. Her eyes are hollow, sunken, behind layers of botox. I try to shake off my judgement, and focus on discovering her hopefully cool personality.

I discover no such thing. She talks about partying, clubbing, drinking, and her gay friend. She suggests going to a nightclub to dance. I accept. As she rambles on about trivial topics, I’m growing increasingly uneasy about the situation. I realize that this is a woman, likely around 40, who clings on to youth for all its worth. The cosmetic surgery, botox, partying, and childlike attitude are all part of her refusal to accept that she is no longer in her 20s. I decide that I want to leave.

As we get in the line for the nightclub, I plan to enter the club, ‘lose’ her on the dance floor, and leave. But, there is an entrance fee. I don’t want to pay the entrance fee. I want to leave now. I tell her I need to get cash, and that she can wait for me in the line. I go to get cash. When I turn the corner, I leg it. Instead of politely telling her that I’m not interested (which I should’ve done), I panicked and ran away.

I have now deleted Tinder” (Source).

In A Relationship… With Her Phone.

“She was more interested in her cellphone than in me. We sat at a restaurant, she kept talking to someone and laughing for awhile until I stood up like looking for the toilet, I smiled, and left.

She must have realized that I had left an hour later, I guess.

When we met by chance weeks later, she was cold like ice. I asked about her relationship. With her phone… I guess she got the point.

We ended up married anyway. Now with our smartphones, we happily ignore each other” (Source).

When You Actually Don’t Want To Leave, But Have To.

“Growing up, there was a girl across the street from me, a year older. She was tall, smart, and really interesting. By high school, I had a crush on her, but since we’d literally grown up with each other from about the age of four, it just felt really awkward. Anyway, she’d gone off to college and was back for the summer, and I’d just graduated from high school and had recently broken up with my girlfriend and one day we were both washing our cars at the same time, and decided it would be more fun to ‘team up’ which lead to some water play and heavy flirting and I asked her out.

She said yes, and I was to pick her up for a burger and a trip to the local drive in movie. I was practically dancing in circles inside my head. Later I realized that I had completely forgotten that I’d agreed to take an on-call shift for a friend on the local ambulance service where I was a volunteer EMT. But I figured it’s Thursday, not a weekend, there’s probably not going to be anything going on, it’ll be fine. So, pager in tow, I pick the young lady up. She’s exhibiting all the signs of enthusiasm I could have hoped for. We grab a burger at one of the local hang-outs, car hop winks knowingly as she drops off our meal. We chat and eat and drive the main drag a few times before it’s dark enough to be show time, then make our way to the drive in.

We’ve gotten, um, cozier as the evening progressed, and she’s sitting next to me as I pull in. Thank god for bench seats. I ask if she wants drinks and popcorn, she declines. I hold her hand, she smiles. The movie starts. It wasn’t a great movie. I’m not even sure what it was. But we were laughing and talking about it, and I look and her and she’s looking at me, and I stop and lean in to kiss her…

And the f–king beeper goes off. I’d forgotten all about it, and it was on the sunvisor where it was right at head height, and that sucker was LOUD. She screamed and jumped, and smashed her forehead into my nose. I tried to shut it off, but somehow heaved it out the window, so I’m scrambling under the car next to us trying to quiet it. She’s laughing, I’m swearing, people are yelling at me. Eventually, I shut it off. And get back in the car, and explain.

I dropped her off. Drove to the fire station. Everyone is pissed. I’m late. Way out of line of the ‘five minute response time’ I’m supposed to deliver. ‘There could be someone dying out there!’ There wasn’t, really. A philosophy prof from U Texas had driven to the middle of nowhere in the desert west of town and eaten hemlock, trying to kill himself in despair over a failed relationship and in homage to Socrates. He didn’t realize that it was just enough to make him feel like dying, not actually kill him, and he had second thoughts. It wound up being just a routine transport to the major medical center an hour away.

I never got a second date. At least I didn’t get a nosebleed from the head-butt” (Source).

Beauty Comes And Goes, But Stupid Is Forever.

“Disgustedly, yes… I and a friend had met two gorgeous girls on Sunset Blvd the previous evening. They were seriously stunning girls – easily 9’s in Hollywood (and that’s saying a lot). We only talked briefly but agreed to meet them at the Mondrian hotel for cocktails the following day. At lunchtime we met in the lobby and ordered drinks. One girl looked at the departing waiter’s back and said, ‘The standards of this place have gone to s–t!’ I didn’t know what she meant so I ignored it as my buddy and I tried to figure out which girl liked which guy. Because of their looks, it was a win/win for us.

The second girl leaned in and with a laugh said, ‘His black a– won’t be shopping on Rodeo Drive anytime soon… they don’t take food stamps.’ Worse, I think she deliberately pitched her voice so the waiter could hear. The waiter happened to be African American but I had assumed the earlier comment wasn’t about that. I mean who thinks that way anymore? Now both these comments were undeniably racist and ignorant.

They both laughed. The drinks then just arrived and the waiter served them smartly and nicely. Despite their ignorance, he clearly took pride in his work. I’m not sure how he served us and remained silent, but somehow he did. I got simultaneously angry and disgusted. These two stunning girls were suddenly the ugliest people I’d ever met. My buddy and I looked at each other and in that one glance we knew each other’s thoughts. We just gave each other a slight nod and stood up as one. I took out cash plus a generous tip and paid the waiter, thanking him for his service.

Us: ‘Our afternoon is over.’

Them: ‘What the f–k are you talking about?’

Us: ‘Beauty comes and goes, but stupid is forever.’

Them: ‘You guys are f–king kidding!’

We walked out with them screaming ‘No one walks out on us!’ Whatever… we never looked back, but the waiter clapped my hand and bro hugged me before I left” (Source).

At Least Her Night Ended OK.

“First (and last) date with a guy that I met through a work thing. He shows up late. No biggie, he did call to say he’d be late, but we’re in a small town and restaurants here tend to close between 10 and 11, and because he’s late we don’t get there until after 9.30. Inside the restaurant he complains for about ten minutes about the early closing hours. Annoying, but he’s from the city so I figure I’ll cut him some slack.

He eats the whole starter and then tells the waiter that the pâté had too much fennel and the toast wasn’t crunchy enough. I’m beginning to see why some people say foodies should be hunted with a crossbow. We eat our main courses. Halfway through, I order another cocktail. I definitely need alcohol to get through this evening. Just as the waiter brings it to me, my leg jerks and I jog him. Peach daiquiri all down the front of my white dress. Waiter and I are apologising profusely to each other. He offers to pay to get the dress dry cleaned. I tell him not to worry, it’s machine-wash, and anyway it was an accident, and if it was anyone’s fault it was mine. I have a neurological condition and sometimes get muscle spasms, and it was just bad luck that it happened when he was next to me and carrying a drink.

My date will not accept this. He goes off on one, telling the waiter how incompetent he is. Waiter continues apologising. I tell my date that I’m not really up for dessert and should probably call it a night and go home. He gives me the side-eye, clearly focused on my dripping dress. I tell him that I think I’ll catch a cab home. He tells me it’s very sweet of me to be so understanding about getting his upholstery dirty and wet. He pays (okay, I give him a little bit of credit for that) and leaves. I don’t give a s–t about his upholstery, but hey, it got him to leave.

I always keep cash for emergencies. I leave some on the table for the waiter, with a note on the receipt that says, ‘Sorry my date was a d–k.’ I call a cab and wait outside, since they clearly want to close up – we’re the last people there, and have been for the last 45 minutes. I wait outside for at least half an hour. Cab doesn’t show. Waiter comes out and is surprised to see me there. He apologises again and thanks me for the tip. We make small talk and laugh about my utter twat of a date. We go home to his place and spend the night together” (Source).

Just Be Yourself.

“Many years ago, I had a woman walk out on a date with me, and just know, I don’t blame her at all; she absolutely did the right thing. I ended up learning a lifelong lesson about being yourself and not trying to be who you think someone is looking for. Here’s what happened:

She was beautiful—one of the prettiest 20-somethings in a town of about 350,000 people, so she was up there. She’d appeared in magazines as a, ‘pretty girl’ model for cars, boats, and did trade show modeling as well. So when she hunted me down at where I worked to ask me out after we met at a party, I was excited… and a bit intimidated. Because I was a little nervous about dating her, I decided to ask someone who knew her what she liked in a guy. She said she liked quiet, strong types. So being dumber than normal for my 21 years, I decided I would stop being me and become what I’d been told she wanted. Keep in mind I was extremely inexperienced in dating at the time.

We went out on a date and for a while it went well, but then I decided to go into stupid mode and started trying to be Clint Eastwood. She quickly noticed and asked if everything was okay. I looked off into the distance with a steely gaze and said, ‘Yeah, why wouldn’t it be.’ I still cringe when I think back on it. Things continued to go downhill and after dinner, we had plans to go to a baseball game, which was her choice. She kept trying to talk to me and I kept answering her in short, quiet responses as if she was one of the bad guys in, ‘The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.’ She was clearly frustrated. I was clearly an idiot. I didn’t see what was happening.

After about two hours of my pitiful Clint impression, she excused herself to go talk to a friend she saw and came back a few minutes later and said that she’d decided to go hang with him for the rest of the night instead— ‘Was that OK?’ I was shocked—suddenly I realized just how badly my strategy had failed. To make matters worse, I was getting over a really bad breakup at the time. It had devastated me, and being left mid-date wasn’t going to help my ego any. I guess I was lost and grasping for insight at the time. I got mad and told her to leave right away.

I held it against her for a while, but once I grew up, realized she’d done the right thing. If I could talk with her now, I’d explain the whole thing and tell her how sorry I was for putting her through that, and just be who I actually am” (Source).

Awkward…

“A long time ago, back when I was dating men, I went out with this guy. He took me to a movie. His hands were all over me. I kept pushing them away, but at that point, I really didn’t have enough gumption to just get up and leave the theater. Also, his bike was at my place (we had walked to the theater which was close to my apartment.) So when we got out of the movie and he asked me to go and get dinner or whatever he asked, I said no. He could tell I was angry but had no idea why. Cause, you know, clueless. He asked if he could get his bike. I said of course. We had a very awkward 3 block walk back to my apartment. Ugh. Makes me feel icky just to think about it now” (Source).

Enjoy The Tea :).

“I have never left a date midway, but I had a girl do it to me once. It was a first date and me and a girl had agreed to meet for coffee/tea. I lived in San Jose and she was going to Stanford, so we decided to meet halfway in Mountain View. If memory serves we were supposed to meet around 5pm. We got off to a rough start as I arrived on time, but she was late. She texted me from the car that traffic sucked. Well, yeah, 101 on a weekday at 4pm would obviously suck and I kind of assumed a Stanford student would be bright enough to know that. But, no worries, I offered (over text) to buy her a beverage so it was here when she arrived and she didn’t reply.

Finally, around 6.15pm, she did arrive. We went inside and got her a tea, and then headed outside to chat a bit. Right away she just seemed kind of irritated- maybe I looked cuter in my picture or the traffic annoyed her (or both) but from the first minute she didn’t seem to want to be there. But, my rule is that she took the time to come out, so I’ll stick around and be polite and see what happens. Everyone has a bad day, after all. So, we keep chatting, but she’s borderline combative about things. Even silly things. I recall she said that zombie movies were not horror movies, and I said I thought that zombie films were a sub-genre of horror movies. She got annoyed with that.

Finally, we actually agree on something, that Mel Brooks movies are often over-rated. She begins to talk about one of his films she did like, though, and as she describes it ‘Nazis,’ ‘musical,’ it’s clear she’s talking about ‘The Producers.’ So, I do interject (politely) and say ‘Oh, are you talking about the Producers?’ To which she responds, very sourly, ‘YEAH, I WAS GETTING THERE.’ Now, at this point, I’ve had about 30 minutes worth of responses like this. It’s just not fun and I lost composure briefly and held up my hands in a ‘cat clawing’ motion and made an angry cat noise.

Needless to say, she seized the day and took the opportunity to stand up abruptly and shouts out ‘THAT’S IT- I’M DONE.’ She picks up her tea, storms off, and while her back is to me does the ‘I’m going to wave behind me without turning around’ and yells out ‘BUH BYE.’

I was not disappointed, because clearly this was going poorly, but, man… I had never met anyone so uptight and hard to have a simple pleasant conversation with. I just sat there and finished my coffee and enjoyed the weather and sent her one final text, ‘I will wear this date – and your exit – as a badge of honor. I don’t know how you function being that uptight. But god damn that was fantastic. Enjoy the tea! :)'” (Source).