Wandering to the Folks

After I ended a long relationship, my best friend from college thought it would be a good idea to fix me up with her boyfriend's childhood buddy because we were both wine connoisseurs. I agreed. 

The location of our first date was a wine cafe. It did not start well. Within five minutes of the date, he was already pointing out that I had a "terrible habit of biting my nails." I was troubled by this critique but ignored it and the other small comments that danced on my nerves.

After lunch, he suggested a walk. I'd had too many glasses of wine so I agreed even though I knew the date was going nowhere. On route, he asked if I would mind stopping at his old friend's house for a minute. I didn't mind especially since he came into town for the specific purpose of our date. 

We approached the house and rang the bell. An older couple answered the door, which totally confused me. It took me a while to realize that they were his ex-girlfriend's parents, who clearly were not over my (apparently highly eligible) date. 

We sat at their outdoor bar (drinking beer mercifully!) for two whole hours discussing how he would one day marry their daughter and how wonderful their relationship had been.

I have never felt more uncomfortable in my life. This dude still wants to know why I never called him again.

In the Waiting Line

When I was 15, I met this guy while standing in line for tamales on Christmas Eve near my house in Texas. My parents habitually bribed me to wait the three hours it took to procure the best tamales in town during the holiday season.  Although this guy had two first names, instead of a first and last name like any reasonable person (a guaranteed sign of trouble in the south), he seemed nice enough, so I gave him my number and we went out later that week. But it soon became apparent that this guy was still terribly torn up about his ex-girlfriend and I think he tried to recreate the closeness of that bond the only way a 16 year-old boy knows how: in turn painfully over-sharing embarrassing details about his life and bragging about his sports prowess. 

This led to a 45-minute discussion about the joys of pole-vaulting, as well as an admission of bulimia, all while using a tiny can of breath spray as he talked. After I turned down his kind offer to see a picture of his ex-girlfriend and go park somewhere, he decided to continue the date at Wal-Mart, where he bought a CD that reminded him of some school dance he went to with his ex. While driving me home, he put in said CD and started crying. After he dropped me home, I realized that I forgot my jacket in his car.  When he turned his car around to bring it to me, he said, "It must be fate," to which I replied, "No, it's just forgetfulness." 

Call Back Blues

You thought the first date went well. So why then are you still waiting to hear back from your potential beau? A new book called Why Didn't He Call You Back: 1,000 Guys Reveal What They Really Thought About You After Your Date by dating coach Rachel Greenwald [first tome: Find a Husband After 35 (Using What I Learnt in Harvard Business School)] out today attempts several answers: you were a bossy boots, you were too full of the blahs, drank too much etc. In short: you were a bad date. The book reminded us of a more literary take from another era altogether on the no-phone back phenomenon by famed wit Dorothy Parker. Her short story A Telephone Call is a stream of consciousness soliloquy by a woman praying (and waiting by the phone) for a dude to ring her back. It's hilarious, painful and pathetic. A cautionary tale if there ever was one.

Not a Smoothie

In a fit of internet dating in college, I agreed to meet up with a fellow. We'd talked online and over the telephone, and seemed to have enough in common that getting together for smoothies was not out of line. His request to meet me in the produce section of a local market was odd, but I tried to chalk it up to just being quirky-cute. I arrived early to scope out and five minuets later, there was a guy hanging out by the starfruit. When I squinted and turned my head to the side, I was able to see how this individual was related to the photograph online, but it was a stretch. I made my approach and introduced myself. He was much more nervous than he was on the phone, and had made me a mix CD full of really romantic stuff. Eek. 

The conversation over smoothies was nice, but I wasn't really feeling it. I'd taken the bus to meet him, and he offered me a ride. At that point, I was still down for hanging out, so I accepted. We started to drive and he mentioned that he had gone by the liquor store to "stock up for when we went to his place that night." I took that as my queue to tell him that he could just drop me off at my house. He agreed, and the rest of the drive went by in silence until we were about five blocks from my residence when he turns to me and breaks the silence, saying, "So... you're Jewish?" I blinked at him, surely with an open mouth, and finally said, "What?" I had never told him what religion I was. He stammered, "Well, you know... uh, dark hair and, your, uh... big nose.... um. Uh. I guess you're not?" I told him that the next corner was fine, hopped out of the car, and walked the remaining blocks back to my place.

Hole in None

Very shortly after my 17th birthday I had my first real date ever: putt-putting with a boy I’d met from another high school. His mother and her boyfriend came to pick us up, but when we got to the mini-golf, they made it clear they weren’t going anywhere. So my first date, ever, was a double-date with my date’s mother and her boyfriend. Apparently, she didn’t trust her son to behave himself alone with a girl. Once we started to play I accidentally hit my date in the knee once with the ball, and once right in the gonads with the club on a mis-aimed backswing. Then we went to an adjacent restaurant for the standard burgers and fries fare. The thing was, the boy I was with didn’t have enough money to pay for his own food, much less mine. And his mother wouldn’t give him any. I wound up paying for the two of us, even though he’d been the one to ask me out. I naively kept dating him that summer, but before September I dumped him. He called my house two weeks later; my mother told him I wasn’t home. He told her he’d accidentally cut off a finger in woodshop class.

Stairway to Hell

When I was a freshman at college, I went on a date with a lovely guy, who happened to be a senior, which was a huge deal to me then. After dinner at the local pizza joint, we stopped at his place to pick up something he'd forgotten before heading to his fraternity party. Somewhere on the way down the three flights of stairs that lead to his apartment, I slipped. It was March in Colorado so there was black ice everywhere but of course I didn't see any on the step.

Now when I say I fell down the stairs, I didn't just trip. I full on tumbled. It was like a scene out of an action movie, but to me it felt like everything was happening in slow motion. I could see him (ahead of me) trying to catch me but it was too late. Before I knew it, I was lying in a clump at the bottom of the stairs. I'm not sure what hurt more, my hip or my pride. I can't really explain the pain because I was numb with embarrassment. I immediately popped up and laughed it off while desperately holding back the tears.

He asked if I wanted to go to the ER but I brushed it off, saying I was O.K. As we walked to the party, which seemed like 100 miles away but was only a three-block distance, I felt my right hip throbbing with pain. By the time we got there, I was in so much pain that I could hardly walk. I excused myself and had a friend walk me home. When I got to my dorm room and peeled off my pants, I found a bump the size of a grapefruit on my hip! My friend took me to the ER, where I found that I did not break anything but would need physical therapy for a month.

I nursed a huge bruise on my leg and couldn't sleep on my right side for months. I don't know what happened to my date since I never saw him again. I am sure he's told the story of the poor girl who fell down the stairs on the first date many times. It still hurts a little bit just thinking about it. 

You Spin Me Right Round

My Very Worst Date happened one summer at Myrtle Beach. My date took me for dinner and then we went with two of our friends, who were also on a date, to the rides at the amusement park. We decided to go on this ride that I had never been on before. I was looking nice in my all-white outfit and my date looked great. So the ride starts, spinning up and spinning down, and after a few seconds I turned to my date.

“I think we better stop this ride I think I am going to be sick,” I said.

“Just hang on you’ll be okay,” he replied.

We kept spinning and I knew I was going to lose it. And by it I mean the dinner we just had. After I hurled on the ride, my white outfit now had colorful spots and my date now matched me. Finally our yells and pleas to stop the ride worked and we got off, but we were all a mess. My girlfriend and I raced to the ladies room to try to clean up and the guys did the same. But when we came out and they were gone. We never saw either of those two guys again and I can’t say I blame them. The moral of the story? Do not mix food with an amusement park ride and white outfits on a first date. 

Love 'Em and Leave 'Em

I met this cute guy at a bar and he hung out with my friends and I for the rest of the night. I ended up drunk and back at his one-bedroom bachelor pad where we did some high school-style making out. The decor at his apartment consisted of t-shirts with silly sayings that were pinned to the walls. After a few more kisses we ended up just falling asleep. When I woke up I called my friend. I was concerned because my friend had a fight with her girlfriend the night before and I spent a few minutes consoling her before asking her to pick me up.

"You're leaving?" he asked.

"Yeah. You know I'm the love 'em and leave 'em type," I joked.

That set him off. He proceeded to start yelling at me, saying that I put my friends first and didn't have a backbone of my own.

"I thought we were getting along great and really have something here," he pleaded. "You really are just the love 'em and leave 'em type!"

As I was gathering my belongings he stormed into his bathroom, slammed the door and told me I could wait on the curb. I happily obliged and waited for my ride outside.

He then tracked me down through MySpace and sent me a note recapping the entire evening and morning, again referring to me as the "love 'em and leave 'em" type.

Sake To Me

I hit it off with a great guy who I met at a bar when I was cocktail waitressing. He took me to a local sushi joint and I guess I became quiet because of nerves or something. Frustrated, he picked up a conversation with the two women on my other side. I thought, 'I have got to loosen up here,' but instead proceeded to get drunk on sake. After dinner we went to his house and he asked me if I would like some Champagne and next thing I know I wake up on his couch around 4:00 am. "Hello?" I asked. He comes out of his room and tells me that I passed out so he left me on the couch. Embarrassed, I decide to make it up to him and bring him a bouquet of balloons later that day. I made it to his place, but heard about three or four of the balloons pop thanks to the cottage cheese ceiling in the hallway. He was not home so I wrapped the attached ribbons to the door handle with the card. Before I could tie them in a knot, I lost a few more. We never recaptured the magic of the first night we met. Of course, I kept running into him after that, which is almost unheard of in Los Angeles.

The Love Doctor

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.

 

Heavy Subject

I joined JDate hoping to have fun and live a little after my recent recovery from an eating disorder. Since I’m a culinary school grad, the guy I was chatting with suggested we go for a picnic and bring dishes to share. When I met him, he broke out an array of foods from a large lunch bag. As we got to know each other, I  told him about my exercise addiction and eating disorder recovery. He then went on about another JDate he had with a girl who he described as being unbelievably articulate, which he said turned him on. I asked why I was on this date instead of being with her. He said she was on the “heavy side” and that it represented “excess,” “laziness” and someone who is “out of control." I couldn’t believe he was telling me this after he knew I had a rough battle putting on weight after being plagued by the obsession about being thin. To top it off, he asked if I wanted to join him for a run sometime. It’s like he was offering a beer to a recovering alcoholic.

Something's Fishy

Thor, a guy I met when I was out with a friend one night, was 45 minutes late picking me up. He drives us to a Japanese restaurant and lets me know that he has never tried sushi.  He asks the waitress why sake doesn’t taste like wine and if Geisha stomp on rice to make it. “I think I’m going to get this California Roll,” he says. “Now, what about this avocado fish? What’s that like.” I explained that avocado was actually a fruit. Dinner arrives and he eats with his hands because “this chop stick thing blows my mind.” He talks about his take on religion, the book he has just read that is a “cross between Dungeons and Dragons and the Bible,” how his mother is going to love me and then about how attractive and tall our children will be. He reaches up to get his Budweiser from the table. His elbow hits the underside of the table flipping it over. Sushi, soy sauce, beer and red wine take flight in the direction of my white pants.

Finally, the bill comes. He opens it, closes it … and hands it to me. Then says, “So, ah, what are you throwing in?” Stupidly, I reach in my clutch and put down the entire contents of my wallet (forgetting to save cab fare so I don’t have to accept a ride home). He drops me off at home and asks if I am busy over the weekend. “Yes Thor, I am busy,” I say. He asks, “What about next week?” I said I was busy and then going out of town and then simply just not interested. “This evening did not go very well,” I explained. He said that he had a great time. Then he asks, “What about your friend? Do you think I could call her?”

Coffee, Tea or Me

My very worst date was when i drove down to Seal Beach to meet a guy for coffee. As soon as I stepped out of my car, he rushed over to me, and asked me if i liked the area and then if I thought I could live there. Caught off guard, I responded, "Uh, I just met you." He then asked me if I would go to his house and shower with him. Just for the record, i didn't.

Matchmaker, Matchmaker Make Me a Match

Before internet dating became the norm, I signed up with a matchmaking service, which featured 3-ring binders full of members' one-page profiles that included pictures. I picked out a decent-looking guy in his early 40's with interests and attributes I liked and we arranged to go on a date. So in walks this guy, who had to be in his 60's, with a horribly bad toupee and he makes a beeline for me. At this point, I wanted to die but I decided to be polite and not walk out so, instead, we sat down for dinner. Big mistake. I don't even remember what we talked about during dinner because all I could hear was the whistling coming from his ill-fitting upper dental plate every time he spoke. Since I didn't walk out on him or take him to task for lying on his profile, which I now suspect other women had justifiably done, he took this to mean that I liked him and hounded me with phone calls that I managed to avoid for weeks until one late night at work. I quickly pretended that my phone was malfunctioning and that I couldn't hear who was on the other end of the line. He kept saying, "I know you can hear me," upper plate whistling all the while through the speakerphone. At least, he never called again!

Blood and Whine

I asked a girl I was casually dating to attend a charity wine tasting event and, as could be expected, we both caught a pretty good buzz. At dinner afterwards, I ordered a Cabernet, while she had a straight gin martini. Followed quickly by another. And another. She then says she’s not feeling well and heads to the restroom to purge, but returns feeling much better, and wants to head to the bar across the street for one more drink. Unfortunately, another dude she was dating happened to be there. He looks at her, ignoring my presence, and asks her if she was coming over that night. Annoyed, I started to leave and she ends up following me. As we were walking along on our way home, she keeps talking about this other guy.

I suggested that we sit down to discuss what just occurred. However, instead of sitting on the bench, she went head first into it and looked up at me with blood pouring out of her nose. People began stopping and asking her if she is OK, while looking at me like I just punched her in the face. I duck into a bar and grab a ton of napkins. I am now cleaning blood of both our shoes, while she tries to get Niagara Falls to stop. She starts slurring about the other guy again, at which point I blurted out an obscenity, and turned around and went home.

Get Shirty

I met a first date for a drink at a bar close to my house. He seemed OK - not quite knocking my socks off but not bad either. I had walked to the bar and when the date was over, he asked to walk me home. I declined but he insisted. At my place, he announced that he needed to use the bathroom. I was too polite to tell him to take his butt back to the bar so I let him in and waited by the open front door for him. He came out of the bathroom wearing his shirt. No pants, no underwear, nothing. He was also at full salute. "Hey, what do you think?" he asked with his arms spread wide to show himself off. I laughed but that didn't deflate him. "What?" he cajoled like a little boy. "Come on...just a little? How about oral? A hand job?" Despite this, I remained polite. I stood by the open front door, saying no and asking him to put his pants back on. Finally, I told him he was making me really uncomfortable and that I would go get my neighbor if he didn't leave. He did and later called to ask for a second date! 

A River Runs Through It

Sometimes we are subjected to the worst date ever, and sometimes we are the cause of the worst date ever. My first job out of college was pretty lame, but the thing that kept me going back each day was this cute, blond Canadian girl. Our relationship started from conversations at the copy machine to lunches and daily conversations in each other’s cubicles. I finally invited her on a rafting trip I was going on with some friends, which I thought would be the perfect first date. For lunch that day, I went down to the work cafeteria and bought myself the Friday Special: the Super Burrito.  As usual, it tasted great and filled me up. At the end of the day we headed out for the three-hour drive and life was perfect, until about a half hour from the campsite. 

At that point my stomach started doing things I had only seen in movies. Twisting left, twisting right and bubbling like a witches pot. I quickly pulled over to the side of the road ran out of the car and into the bushes. After a few more stops with similar results we made it to the campsite. But by this time I was hanging on by a thread and my symptoms had moved from throwing up to extreme abdominal pain. She was worried for me, but was slightly annoyed when she had to figure out how to put up the tent, while I lay on the ground writhing in pain.

Right about midnight things went from bad to worse. I woke up to an experience similar to throwing up, however from a different part of the body. Being that we didn’t have proper facilities, I had to wash myself in the river, naked and dispose of that set of clothing. Too embarrassed to go back into the tent, I stumbled to the top of the hill by the Porta Potties and slept on the ground, all the while fearing that a mountain lion was going to drag my emaciated body away for an early morning breakfast.

As I was in no condition to drive, she was to be the pilot for the three-hour ride back. Of course the drive may have been shorter if we weren’t stopping at a gas station every 20 miles so that I could remember that Super Burrito I had eaten the day before. I know you are thinking that in the end it probably all worked out and that we looked back on the incident and laughed about it. Unfortunately there is no recovering from bad burritos or bad dates.

In the Bedroom

I waited a couple of months to sleep with this great guy I was dating. Usually I like to get physical earlier to make sure there is sexual chemistry, but I could see this becoming something serious so I thought I would try to wait awhile and not rush things. We finally went back to his apartment after a fun Japanese dinner and I was ready to get down to business. He toured me through his spotless two-bedroom place, saving the bedroom for last. As soon as we entered I gasped. There were seven of the most childish stuffed animals I have ever seen on his bed. They were all lined up in a row just staring at me. I was horrified and mumbled something about having to play tennis early in the morning and left. I never returned his calls and didn’t feel bad about it.

Silence is Not Always Golden

My first couple of dates with an engineering professor I met on Match.com was okay. He was pretty passive: he'd never ask the host for a table or the waiter for water. I decided to give it one last try since he otherwise seemed to be a nice, smart guy. But I decided that I wasn't going to step up and do anything. I would do the Dinner of Silence and resolved to not speak unless he asked me a question. It was the quietest (and longest) dinner ever. Afterward, we went to the parking lot to get our car from the valet, but he was nowhere to be seen.  My date said, “Let's just wait, he'll eventually show up.” 

I wasn't willing to devote any more time to this date so I took it upon myself to look for the valet who I finally found in a car lying across the seat, snoring, with his feet hanging out the window of his own car. I politely said, “Excuse me” several times with no response. My date was standing at the front of the lot, just watching me, so I reached over and grabbed the valet's toe and shook it. He woke right up and got our car immediately. Finally, as we were driving away, my date turned to me and said, “I thought you were obnoxious back there.” I can't tell you how hard I bit my tongue on that one. Thought I'd never hear from him again, but he actually called the next day. Go figure. I did not return the call.