I was excited to go out on my third date with a dreamy doctor.We were having a good time when the table two down from us told the table of girls next to us to lower their voices and that they were being offensive. The girls were being obnoxious and almost started a fight.They turned to us, asking if we thought they were loud. We said no, they were “fine,” trying to be polite. We all started to engage in small talk, but before I knew it, the girl next to me was deep in conversation with my date, ignoring everyone else around.“Oh where do you live?... Where do you work? Oh wow, my shoulder hurts, doc! Maybe I could see you!” Pretty soon they were the only ones talking and then they exchanged numbers right in front of me! At some point during the crazy evening, he also informed me that he had on leopard print tighty whities with monkeys on them. Great times. I guess the moral of the story is, just because you’re a dreamy doctor, doesn’t mean you can’t also be a douche.
You have to kiss a frog or fifteen before you get to your prince/ss. That part of the bargain you accept, but when the amphibian turns out to be a deviant of sorts, stiffs you with the bill or herpes...My Very Worst Date is a commiseration of the moments when the sweet possibilities of romance turn into a sour struggle to get the hell out of the situation. We strongly believe that airing our (and other peoples) courtship disasters provides comedy, comfort and cautionary tales to bear in mind the next time you say 'yes' to drinks with a mysterious stranger.
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