My Very Worst Date Moves

Ladies and gents, we've moved to MyVeryWorstDate.com. Please visit us at our new home from now on. Brand new and all the old My Very Worst Date yarns are on the new site. We'll be expecting you (and all your stories)!

Living Just Enough for the City

When I lived in New York City, I actively dated on Match.com. My Very Worst Date happened when I met a guy at a Union Square restaurant. I walked in and saw a guy sitting at a table looking around, but he was clearly 10 years older than the photo he’d posted online. His hair was also much thinner, but I decided to give it a shot anyway and introduced myself.  The waitress came right over and asked if we would like anything to drink.

"No, we don't want any cocktails," he said rather curtly. 

I let it slide because I thought he might be an alcoholic for a second. Still I was annoyed that he spoke for me.

"Well, can I order a soda then?" I asked.

"Do you have to?"

I was turned off by his cheapskate ways but I still tried to enjoy the rest of the meal since he seemed fairly charming otherwise. After dinner, we stepped out of the restaurant into a rainy, rainy night. Since we were both headed to the Lower East Side, I suggested we share a taxi.

"Do you have your Metrocard with you?" he asked. "Because we're taking the bus."

I had one in my back pocket, but I was shocked that in the cold rain he would want to wait for a bus just to save a couple of bucks.

"And is it one of the unlimited ones because I forgot mine?" he added.

I gave him the card, which had four bucks left on it, and I hopped in a cab to meet my girlfriends.

A Couple We Can Believe In: Unmarried Bliss

After playing lovers in the 1988 baseball film Bull Durham, Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins became a real-life couple. Susan has said that in some ways Tim, who is 12 years her junior, is "older and more traditional" than she is. A dad to two of Susan's three kids, Tim says, "Age hasn't been a factor." He directed her Oscar-winning performance in Dead Man Walking and the duo regularly makes headlines for their anti war activism. While the New Yorkers have never married, they remain more committed than ever as they go into their third decade together. 

Dynastic Cabin Fever

Sometimes a Very Worst Date happens outside the traditional 'dinner and movie' set-up. Your romantic hopes might be crushed earlier or later on. So we present our first Mid-Courtship Disaster...

For the first time in my life, I found myself thrilled when the flight attendant showed me to my seat. I was flying business class for work and expected everything to be a little classier and better looking but my neighbor exceeded all my hopes of a glamorous traveling companion.

Not only did he look like an South Asian version of John F. Kennedy Jr., he was also reading a book about surgery. I silently thanked God for the blessing he’d delivered to me. Now we had the entire New York-Los Angeles trip to get to know each other, I thought as I settled in. The promise of his looks was fully fulfilled in his personality - he was remarkably erudite and stunningly intelligent. By Las Vegas, I was ready to marry him.

Before we alighted at LAX, he gave me his number. That's when he dropped in another number: his age. I knew the guy was younger than me so I guessed late 20s. I was older (in the next decade) but not by that much so I did not think it was that disgraceful - until he revealed he was 18. His parents had been several rows ahead of us on the plane!

After I’d finished up with work in L.A., I decided to call him on the urging on my colleagues, who cheered loud and excitedly, "Why not?" We ended up going out to fancy restaurant, where the reality of his age came home fully. 

When the waiter came up to ask if we wanted cocktails, I held my breath. He ordered a soda and later, he charmingly and thoughtfully discussed how he’d spoken to his friend about me and how they’d weighed up the relationship’s possibilities of working out. 

For me, this was not My Very Worst Date in the traditional sense, but it was still something of a dating tragedy. I was crushed. I met the man of my dreams and he turned out to be a boy of 18. 

On the Prowl

Lamenting the end of Rock of Love Bus? Those matchmaking reality shows not cutting it? Well, tomorrow night TV Land PRIME's debuts The Cougar, hosted by Vivica A. Fox (genius casting there). The new show, from the creators of The Bachelor, claims it's eager to shatter dating stereotypes (cougar-iffic Stacey thinks age is a number and there's a double standard on women who date younger men). Essentially, 20 younger dudes compete for the mother-of-four's heart, and there's even a set of 25-year-old twins in the mix. Then there's SNL's recurring "Cougar Den" sketch. And later this year, Courteney Cox Arquette will star in the risque ABC sitcom Cougar Town. While the Hollywood trend feels a little late to us (we've seen cougars in the wilds of Newport Beach, Beverly Hills and Manhattan for quite some time now), at least 40-plus gals are getting TV jobs. 

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." 

A Couple We Can Believe In: Just The Two of Us

How smoking are these two? So much so that the rumor mill can't stop speculating that Will Smith and Jada Pinkett Smith are really a gay (or bisexual) couple married in heterosexual and career convenience. Pinkett Smith recently brushed off the titters in an NPR interview (no less!), where she basically said: you can believe us or you can lump it. 

With that out of the way, we can proceed. Smith met his pint-sized princess (and former Miss Maryland) on 'The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air' when she auditioned to be his onscreen girlfriend. She didn't get the role but got her prince. Twelve years on, the two have a couple of kids, genre-jumping careers and a marriage that's apparently as rock solid as Pinkett Smith's biceps. 

Their secret? She has said utter commitment to the union. Smith's mentioned that they've studied why Hollywood couples break up and have learnt from that. He also told a U.K. tabloid magazine that he'd tell the wife if he wanted to sleep with another woman last year. No word though if he has - or if she's done the same. 

Perhaps it's not the swinging open marriage that gossip purveyors have in mind but the two might just have the kind of crystalline communication that most of us crave. They even tell each other who they have celeb crushes on (him: Beyonce, Salma Hayek; her: The Rock). But we can only imagine that their "I like her/him.." conversations end with "...but I love you."

The Human Stain

I was on my second date with a guy I really liked. We had a wonderful dinner at a nice hotel and then moved to the nearby lounge for drinks afterward. I was sitting on a white couch and it was pretty warm outside this particular evening. After a few moments I looked down and realized that there was some sort of orange stain on the couch. Then it occurred to me that I was actually the cause of this. I had gotten a spray tan in preparation of the date, but now I was basically sweating it all off right onto the pure white couch. My date nicknamed me “Oompa Loompa” that night and I thought I was going to die of embarrassment. Luckily he didn’t mind too much because we are still together three years later. 

PLEASE VISIT OUR NEW SITE --

http://myveryworstdate.com! 

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.

Chicago with a Side of Whopper and Fries

My first mistake was allowing my parents to set me up on a blind date. The guy picked me up and informed me that we were going to a Chicago concert. I was not that keen on the band but it was a free concert and we had great seats. 

It turned out to be a total bust. My boy sat there not clapping, not singing (who doesn't know the words to Hard to Say to I'm Sorry?) and definitely not moving, never mind swaying or dancing. 

On the way home, he told me he wanted to grab food and drove up to a Burger King drive-thru. At this point, I was shocked to silence. He ordered his food and then casually asked me if I was hungry. I told him I was "fine." After getting his meal, he drove to his house, got out of the car and made his way inside. I had no choice but to follow him. 

He finally wolfed down the Whopper and fries and offered to take me home if I wanted him to. Um yeah! At my front door, he asked me if I wanted to go out again next weekend. I told him no, I didn't want to ever go out with him again. 

I heard through the grapevine that he's now married. I wonder how often he and the wife eat at Burger King...

Un-Date Action

While I was grabbing coffee before class, a cute enough, well built guy came up to me. We chatted a little and I gave him my number. He seemed normal enough. He called and we organized to meet up at the grad students' lounge and head to a party the following Wednesday. I don't like house parties but I figured I'd try to be open minded. And birthday parties are always kind of festive, right? 

When I arrived at the lounge, he was sitting by the fire. Half asleep. Lovely. He woke up and proceeded to pound three beers (to my one glass of white wine) and then insisted we do Jager Bombs. Then he began a monologue about industrial music. For the record, I am a slummy hipster. I don't like industrial.

After texting incessantly while we sat there for about an hour, he announced that we had to leave for the party NOW. We rushed into a cab and headed off. He stopped at a liquor store, and asked me to pitch in for booze because he was "broke." Perfect. Then, after some detours, we finally found the house (he'd copied the address down wrong). At that point, he realized he did not have enough money to pay for the cab. 

I paid and tried to remain optimistic. I realized that we were in an icky part of town that I did not know well but still I was ready to party. We entered the house and there were a grand total of four people there. They were trashed and wanted snacks. So my "date" and the two girls left for the store, leaving me there with the host, who regaled me with tales of his recovery from meth addiction and his former penchant for visiting prostitutes. 

When the others got back, I escaped to the restroom and texted eight different friends telling them to call me and pretend to be my roommate. My friend A graciously obliged and informed me that our pipes had burst. You see, since she was not good in a crisis, I had to go to her. I got in a cab and got the hell out.

But before I did that my companion for the evening walked me out to the cab. 

"Is this a date?" he asked.

"No, it's not," I replied affirmatively.

He proceeded to assure me that he would call again. 

My response? 

"I wouldn't."

Getting Personal

In the mid-90s I was 19, I had just come out of the closet and was taking six weeks of summer school in Ohio and there were very few people on campus. I picked up an alternative free city paper and discovered the personals section in the back. So I brought it back to my dorm and placed one because it was free. A few days later I had a message from this guy and we had a good chat. He was in his early 30s, but I didn’t mind the age difference. Since I didn’t have a car, he offered to pick me up, so I sat outside the student union and this red Toyota Celica pulled up. “Fuck,” I thought to myself as soon as I saw him. He was wearing acid washed tapered jeans, white sneakers and an open buttoned white shirt that revealed a black t-shirt. Oh and he had thick Coke bottle glasses and buckteeth.

Since I was the only person in the area and had told him what I looked like, I couldn’t get out of it. We went into town and I picked a place where no one could see us. He ordered spinach dip, but managed to get it stuck in between his teeth. He snorted while laughing and proceeded to reveal that he was divorced and still lived with his ex-wife who was actually a post-op tranny. He said he married her because she needed a visa and he “really liked trannies.” The sad thing was that he had no clue I was having such a miserable time. He insisted on stopping for an ice cream sundae at Friendly’s before dropping me back at my dorm and I didn't argue because this guy could have easily driven us into the woods and I would have disappeared. He told me he’d love to see me again, but I told him I just didn’t feel a connection. I avoided personal ads from that day on.  

A Couple We Can Believe In: Michael J. Fox and Tracy Pollan

They met on "Family Ties" and have been married for more than 20 years. She's a little taller, but he ice skates faster. Michael J. Fox's latest book, Always Looking Up, reveals candid details of his Hollywood love story with Tracy Pollan, which has survived and thrived since his Parkinson's diagnosis. He describes Tracy as his rock, but then says: "I think what she is is much more special than being a rock. Rocks are rigid and nonyielding and she's very fluid." Tracy says the diagnosis has helped their marriage. "When we were first married, he was so busy working all the time," she explains. "So, in some ways, it's made him a lot more available." 

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. 

If You Can't Take The Heat...

After several successful dates, I offered to cook dinner for a lawyer I was seeing. As I thought he was  quite a catch, I desperately wanted to impress him, so I researched recipes and decided on a salmon dish. On the day of the date, I lovingly seasoned and prepared the salmon for roasting at his apartment. I felt quite confident that my cooking skills would seal the deal as far as our budding relationship was concerned. I arrived to find his kitchen in a bit a mess. I cleaned up a little, popped the fish in the oven and proceeded to join him in the living room for a glass of wine.

We were in deep conversation when we noted a funny smell filtering into the room. It was coming from the kitchen. When we entered it, it was full of smoke. Not just wisps escaping from the burnt salmon, but actual plumes of smoke, which had us gasping for breath. The oven was on fire! The fire extinguisher was not going to cut it so he called the fire department. As he did so, I anxiously envisioned the entire structure - it was one of those tightly packed New York apartment buildings - burning to the ground, thanks to my culinary efforts. They arrived in minutes, providing me with a small degree of relief. 

However, after they put the flames out, they proceeded had to tear down the walls of his kitchen to make sure there was no unseen electrical fire. Being the lawyer that he was, my date began snapping pictures of the damage to document it for his landlord. It turned out there had been some oil left in the oven, which was what likely caused the fire. It was totally my fault, but the firemen looked at my date with an expression that said: get rid of this girl!

My date was quite the gentlemen about the whole fiasco. After the firemen left, he even asked what we should do with the rest of the evening. Utterly mortified that I'd just burnt his kitchen to the ground, I said it was probably time for me to call it a night. Neither of us called each other again. 

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. 

Last Night The DJ Saved

I had fancied this really hot, hipster DJ who played at a bar in downtown New York for ages. We were friends of friends and had spent months outrageously flirting with each other. Finally, one night at the said bar, he grabbed me and asked me to come home with him. 

Since he lived in deepest Brooklyn, I invited him to my place instead as I lived just over the bridge in Williamsburg. I suggested we get a cab back there but his option was the train. I offered to pay the fare (about $15) but he countered by saying that the subway would be "more fun."

Unfortunately for our night of passion, the L train was running on a shorter route so we had to get off and take a shuttle bus to my usual stop. A journey that should have taken 20 minutes max prolonged into a one and a half hour voyage during which he yapped incessantly and revealed that his intellect did not quite match up to his looks. 

We got home well after 3 a.m. and I immediately put my pajamas on, yawned and said I was going to sleep. In the morning, I woke up at 6 a.m., mostly due to my discomfort at having him in my bed. When he got up and tried to be seductive and charming, I told him I had to work. After all, I have pay for those late-night cab rides somehow! I didn't say that of course though I wish I did. He left soon after. 

Two Drink Minimum

I was out visiting a friend in Los Angeles and met this guy. We stayed in touch with each other and he decided to fly out to visit me in New York, which was also where his sister lived. He asked if I would mind if his sister came with us on our first official date, since we would be spending the other evenings of his visit alone together. I agreed and of course I wanted to meet her, even though I was a little scared of her, since she sounded like a real no nonsense kind of chick. We went to dinner and I only ordered a salad. Even though I normally love to eat, I wanted to appear dainty and feminine, so I was fine with just a few small bites of food. Big mistake. They were pounding drinks and I joined in even though I’m a total lightweight. By the time we got to a comedy club I was hammered. I literally passed out at our table and began snoring away on my date’s shoulder. Apparently the comedian even started making fun of him. After being woken up I headed outside where I proceeded to barf in the street. His sister managed to call their mom and tell her all about me and the evening. I was mortified. Miraculously he wasn’t upset and still liked me because now he’s my boyfriend.

A Couple We Can Believe In: RIP

Like everyone, we at MVWD have been shocked at how Natasha Richardson died suddenly after a ski accident this week. The reports that her mother and legendary actor, Vanessa Redgrave sang her The Sound of Music tune, Edelweiss, before the life support machine was turned off, was especially touching. 

It was the song that Redgrave performed at her daughter's first wedding to producer, Robert Fox. The bride wore a pantsuit with a down-to-navel cleavage (according to Ted Casablanca at E!) to that wedding but the alliance fell apart when she met the strapping Liam Neeson on Broadway in the early 1990s. 

The two got together and Richardson apparently tamed the player in Neeson. "I am pleased that women fall in love with him," she said, according to the NY Daily News, "because I know why." We can't help but love that cool observation. The two married in upstate New York and went on to have two kids. It is devastatingly sad that Neeson now has to reprise the widower role he played in the 2003 Richard Curtis romantic comedy, Love Actually in real life.

Hock Shop for Tokens of Love Lost

You don't need to be reminded that we live in tough, tough economic times. And you probably don't want to recall that ex-boyfriend of yours. But reconsider, especially if he left a trail of gifts behind. 

You no longer wear or want that wedding ring/iPod/Coach bag in the back of your closet but you've yet to cast it away for good. Enter the eBay for break-up purging: Ex-Boyfriend Jewelry, the site that allows you to flog now-unwanted tokens of love for comforting, cold hard cash. All you have to do is post an image of the item (which can include 'Gifts that should have been jewelry'), provide the back story (we like the one from the girl who's selling a dress for a date that never happened with a former beau who used her money to buy weed) and a short description of the item. 

Ex-Boyfriend Jewelry is useful for profitably getting rid of old baggage but it's also handy for picking up some bargains. Perhaps the Tiffany's sterling silver money clip ($50) to stash all dollars you've made from your heartbreak?

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.

What the Frock?

Remember Kenley from last season's "Project Runway?" She seemed a little crazy on the show, but we never expected this! Turns out that the designer we all loved to hate was arrested in her Brooklyn home on Tuesday morning after assaulting her sleeping ex-fiance with everything from a laptop and apples to water and -- wait for it -- her cat!

According to court documents Collins told her ex-fiance, Zac Penley, "You're lucky … it could've been a lot worse." Kenley was promptly arrested and charged with 2nd degree assault, 3rd degree assault and criminal possession of a weapon in the 4th degree.

The "Runway" finalist's comment upon being released from jail on Tuesday morning?

"It was a miscommunication."

We're pretty sure Mr. Penley would call it something else. Ladies, violence is never the answer.

I Ain't Saying She a Golddigger

I met a nice and attractive girl at a bar so I asked her out. She told me there was this restaurant she was dying to try so I made reservations for Friday night. The dinner was good, but very expensive. I figured that on the second date we would go somewhere more casual. But she suggested another fancy place. I obliged, but I was determined to go somewhere cheap if it continued beyond the second date. We had great conversation and I was definitely interested in dating her because she was smart, beautiful and well traveled. When I asked her out for date number three I suggested we go bowling. She sighed and said she really wanted to try this new hot spot she read about. She agreed to bowling, but proceeded to pout throughout the date. I asked her what was wrong and she explained that dating was the only way she ever got to try these upscale restaurants since she was fired from her job six 
months prior. She said she really missed her old lifestyle. I flat out asked her if she had any interest in me beyond my ability to take her to dinner and she shrugged her shoulders. I gave her ten bucks for a taxi and walked out. 



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 World's Worst Pick-Up Lines

Honeymoon With My Brother author and friend of MVWD Franz Wisner is at it again with his new book How The World Makes Love (St. Martin's Press), out today. Here's a short list excerpt from the book:

The World's Worst Pick-Up Lines

1. Don't I know you from a past life? INDIA
2. What's a nice place like this doing around a woman like you? CZECH REPUBLIC
3. I would love to be a farmer and you to be my soil. Our crop would be bananas. NICARAGUA
4. At what time does a hurain like you need to be back in heaven? EGYPT
5. You are smelling very nice to me. BOTSWANA
6. Let's have cafezinho. I can call you or nudge you. BRAZIL
7. My parents already have engaged us to be married. They just forgot to tell you. INDIA
8. How would you like your breakfast eggs, scrambled or fertilized? NEW ZEALAND
9. So, you like music? LOS ANGELES
10. Does your backside want my phone number? BRAZIL

What are your worst pickup lines, abroad or local?

Little Lie

I once went on a date with a woman I met online. Her profile on the dating site said she was 'petite.' Her headshot photo looked great so I was excited to finally connect in person. When I arrived at the assigned bar to meet her, she turned out to be a 'little person' (or a midget in more commonly-used parlance). The misrepresentation was a shock, which made it my very worst date. I have nothing against people of small stature but I do have a problem with people pretending to be five feet tall when they are less than four feet high. Talk about stretching the truth! 

Teenage Tale

I was 15 and had spent the second half the night making out with my first bona fide boyfriend on his basement couch (the first half being spent at dinner and a movie). In between swapping spit, we were swigging shots of Jose Cuervo. I was obliterated. I stumbled into the bathroom at one point and tripped over an area rug. As my entire body pitched forward toward the sink, I caught a glimpse of my long hair suspended straight up in the air. My mouth, which was about to be a canal for projectile vomit, connected with the rim of the sink. Gonk. When I stood up, bleary-eyed, my two front teeth were broken in half. Like a West Virginia meth addict's. I panicked--but only slightly. Then I puked. I walked out and showed my boyfriend my jagged smile ("loooooook!"), already crying. He had been fixing something on his drum set. He started crying immediately, saying, "You're gonna hate me!" Then he bent over the skeleton of his drum set, bared his front teeth, and smashed his face into the metal. Gonk. Half his two front teeth were gone. Now that's love.

A Couple We Can Believe In

Married for nearly two decades, Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson are one of those Hollywood power couples who don't show up on TMZ, fighting in parking lots or having indiscretions at nightclubs. Hanks is busy acting, directing, collecting $20 million-plus paychecks and being an all-around nice guy, while Wilson has been producing hits like "Mamma Mia!" and "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" and raising needed funds for EIF's Women's Cancer Research Fund. They just seem damn happy to be around each other and we like that. Perhaps it's the advice Wilson was given by her real-life Greek mother that has kept this bond going strong.  

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.

 

This Is Your Brain On Love

Dr. Alex Benzer, author of Tao of Dating, has a op-ed piece on The Huffington Post that claims dating is harder for smart people. He makes an intereresting case (smart people spend more time on achievements than relationships for example), but can't you be smart, attractive, interesting, and very dateable? And if so please head this way.

He goes on to give some good tips on opening up to the world, whether you're in the top 5% of intelligence or not:

"The purpose of relationship (and perhaps all of life) is to practice the loving. No partner is going to be 100% perfect anyway, so learn to appreciate people for what they have to offer, not what they don't. And love them for that. That's what real loving is."

Punched Out

I took about a week off work to recover from my wisdom tooth operation but found that I was chipper enough to go out that same evening and decided to head out to the local gay club with my friends. Armed with a few shots of Jager and the not-so-necessary pain medication, I was unstoppable and looking mighty fine. 

My roommate, who's quite the wing man, spotted a cute and very drunk guy at the bar and proceed to grab his ass and point at me when the looked for the culprit. I took over and began to chat to the young man, who was visiting from Texas. We then hit the dance floor and started to make out. And by make out, I mean he tried to head butt me with his teeth. I thought it was a drunk party foul and tried again to no avail. The guy enjoyed the teeth bashing! I tried to get away but my friends pushed me back, scolding me for never giving guys a chance. Finally, because I was high as a kite, I decided to take him home with me. When we got home, he proceeded to strip completely in front of my roommate and pass out. I was ready to call it a night anyway since my face hurt so much. 

When we woke up in the morning, we started making out. This time, it was less violent because he was laying down and had less momentum to head butt. But then he started to substitute the foreplay with punching. Now I am a non-violent individual but a boy's gotta to defend himself so I played along with what he considered "hot" until he got this look in his eyes. He then proceeded to jump up and stumble into the bathroom where he burst into projectile vomiting. That was the end of that. 

The Anti (Speed) Date

Here's an antidote for those who hate the dating dance: speeding hating. On the other side of the pond, Brits, who've never really cottoned on to the dating idea (preferring instead to get slaughtered on Stella and pull whomever they fancy and close the deal by taking them home), are enjoying this new trend, which the The Mirror bills as: 

"... the second-cousing-twice-removed of the more conventional speed dating. 

But instead of having three minutes to impress the opposite sex with your painted-on smiles and zest for life this is a night dedicated to grumbling, misery and despair."

We think this fits with the whole Brit self-deprecating persona. And there is a lot to bitch about in these economic times so why not just get it out there on the first encounter? 

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.

Taking Him Back?

This doesn't come as a complete shock to us here at My Very Worst Date, but People is reporting that Rihanna and Chris Brown are "definitely together." The reconciliation is in effect at Sean "Diddy" Combs' house on Miami Beach's Star Island. How apropos. 

From People: 

"They are definitely together and care a great deal about each other," says a Miami source. "They feel like staying in and working through their issues. So far they have not wanted to go out." Brown, however, did venture out earlier on his own. On Thursday he hit the water to Jet Ski with pals. Rihanna and Brown's reconciliation comes nearly three weeks after Brown, 19, the alleged battered the "Umbrella" singer on Feb. 8.

What does this mean for Rihanna's career? Will people still embrace the singer if she takes back the guy who beat her in the face? What does it mean for her millions of fans who are impressionable young girls? 

Flipping Not Allowed

I had been dating this amazing guy for a month or so. Our whirlwind romance had me falling madly in love. One night, he invited me over for a BBQ but my mother was visiting. He insisted I bring her along, which I did. He was super-excited when we arrived and tried hard to impress her. When he took a break from the grill to grab something from the house, I decided flip to the meat on the BBQ. He came back and screamed at me: "What are you doing! You are so controlling! Why can't you let me be the host!" Then, he stormed off, leaving us speechless. I went to look for him and found him curled in a fetal position staring into the void in his bedroom. I could not get a response for him so I went back to my mother. We sat there and wondering what to do. I was sad, disturbed but also amused, especially when we decided to eat some of the meat since we were starving. The next day, he called apologetically and said he should not have been drinking while on his medication. Needless to say I had no idea he was on meds. I guess the paranoid behavior should have tipped me off - he kept a samurai sword under the seat of his car and had a panic button installed in his bedroom. If my mother had not been there, I might have rationalized this and forgiven him. But because she was, there was no going back. 

Marriage à la Mode

After yesterday's fashion dating hilarity, we sobered up a bit when we read about how dress preferences can kill a relationship in Mariella Frostrup's agony aunt column in The Observer. Mariella, a reformed party girl, Friend of George Clooney and serious literary journalist, is our kind of agony aunt. Her stunning resume and late-but-extremely-happy coupled up status are some of the reasons we heart her. Then, there's her wisdom and attempts at empathy. Here's what she said to the cross-dressing husband who's losing his wife because of his wardrobe choices:

The closest I've come to understanding the urge was when I found myself attracted to Eddie Izzard despite the fact that he was wearing rather nasty nail varnish and a skirt shorter than mine. It taught me that you can never predict or dictate what's going to turn you on. Reverse discrimination is rife in what we wear. Women sport ridiculous concoctions, call them fashion and are admired by their contemporaries. Men are barely tolerated out of trousers. 

The rest of her terribly sane and sensible advice is here. 

Master of the Wardrobe

On a third date with a very cute and interesting guy, I wanted to get beyond the surface, so I asked him to tell me some about himself. "I do like to wear women's clothing sometimes," he replied. My response: Huh?? "Well," he said, "You are wearing men's jeans so it's not that different." I was wearing Levi's. We kept talking and before I knew it he was explaining his favorite fabrics. Blouses and skirts were his preferred dress style apparently. By the end of the date, I was driving him around, and pointing out my best-loved boutiques and discussing make-up as if I had found a new shopping buddy. I must have been shell-shocked at the revelation, but the next day I decided not to see him again. It was a decision he found perplexing.

Dating Dear Old Dad

Want to know "Why You're Likely to Marry Your Parent?" According to experts interviewed by CNN, we are inherently programmed to marry partners who remind us of our parents. Since you grow up familiar with a certain type of person (funny, outspoken, affectionate, offensive or even abusive) you then become attracted to similar versions in the dating pool because it feels comfy, whether you' like it or not. Some of these couplings yield fantastic results, while others lead to pure drama. If marrying someone like your mom or dad gives you the creeps, don't fret, there is hope. Simply go about your search consciously, don't jump in to marriage right away and get help if you have unhealed issues. As if dating wasn't hard enough. 

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?”

The Romance of Recession

The economy be damned! We are all still searching for love, according to The New York Times, which recently regaled us with a series of facts that show that both online dating and offline matchmaking are booming. With no 9-to-5s to go to, people have more time to surf profiles on the likes of Match.com, and the search for a soul mate has become more urgent in these scary times. It's also apparently about substance this time around because we're no longer impressed by money. Although we do still want potential partners to have jobs, according to the article's stats and reporting. Even in a depression, we want cupid to keep his bow and aim it right!