Monday, January 30, 2006

Herpe (The Love Bug)

I met a guy online and after a couple of weeks we decided to meet. We met at a local restaurant for drinks. WOW! This guy knocked my socks off! He was so handsome, a GREAT dresser, hilariously funny and engaging...! When I'm meeting someone I've met online, I like to keep it casual and long, drawn out dinners...just in case there's no connection and you don't end up spending forever with someone you don't like. Well, let me tell you people, we had such a fantastic time that, not counting a few hours here and there to sleep, shower and change our clothes, our "date" lasted about THIRTY HOURS! We stayed for dinner, then went to a party where I met ALL of his friends. I went home and after only four hours' sleep, met him at his house and drove with him to New York where he had a business lunch. I strolled around town (get this, he offered me shopping money, which I declined) while he met with clients, then we spent the rest of the day there. We drove back home, I went home to change and then he picked me up and took me to the best restaurant in town, where he wined and dined me. WOW! I was SO taken with him I was actually telling people, half-jokingly, that I had met my future husband! And, to top it all off, this guy has a gorgeous house, a beach house, two SUVs, a boat, two jet skis...I could go on and on. AND he sent me a beautiful bouquet of flowers the next day saying what a great time he had and he couldn't wait to see me again! I couldn't for the life of me think why he was still single. Okay, so we go out several more times, then he had to go out of town for a few days. Now I'm really lovesick, and can't go without seeing him, so I drive over to his house at about midnight to spend a few hours with him...he had to leave at about 5AM to catch his flight out to the west coast. We're having some wine when all of a sudden he pulls out this Ouija board-which, as a Catholic, made me a little uneasy, but what the hell, he's Catholic, too-and proceeds to "make contact" with a dead relative. Next thing I know, he's crying like a baby. I don't have a problem with guys who cry, but this was WAAAAYYY over the top crying and blubbering, just really weird. But whatever. So we end up going to sex, just a little messing around, because I really am a "good girl" and I prefer to wait before taking the big step. So he gets up to get ready for his flight and tells me to stay as long as I want, just lock up behind myself. A few hours later, I'm getting ready to go home, and since I'd slept in my makeup, I was looking for some Q-Tips to clean up my eyeliner, and in the bathroom drawer I find...OH.MY.GOD...a current prescription...for...his...Herpes medicine. Well, that burst my bubble. I was heartbroken. That's just something I cannot deal with, and thank God I AM a good girl, because we came THISCLOSE to having sex the night before. I didn't want him to know that I discovered his secret before he had a chance to tell me himself...I just never returned his calls. :(

Saturday, January 28, 2006

Yasser, Thats My Baby, No Sir, Not Just Maybe...

A while back I met this girl online who I thought seemed quite appealing...although she hadn't sent a picture, she described heself as Middle Eastern, a region that has produced, in my opinion, some of the most beautiful women in the world. Of course my imagination was working overtime. After every e-mail I would imagine myself reclining on silk cushions while this exotic, dark-eyed temptress danced around me, peeling off veils to reveal...well, lets just say I was more than ready to draw my scimitar and anxious to meet her in person.
Weeks went by and we were unable to get our schedules to match, however we did grow closer
through IMs and e-mail. I learned she wasn't very tall (I love short women), curvy ( ok, I know that means chubby but sometimes I like that) and a face that she said was "very Arabic". Hey, I saw "The Voyages of Sinbad" and "Alladin" I know Arabic means Hot, Hot, Hot! Yippee...Finally, the day arrived when we could meet, due to parking problems, I was a few minutes late and when I walked in the door I saw her for the first time. Long shiny, dark hair trailed down her back, not very tall, curvy not fat, I smiled and as I called her name she turned to reveal her face...very Arabic indeed. She had the features that I'd seen on a thousand nightly
newscast. For some awful reason, cruel, cruel fate had given this poor girl the face of YASSER ARAFAT! We talked, she was nice, I was nice but ...I'm sorry I know looks aren't supposed to matter but, well lets just say I had no desire to occupy that territory and we parted ways.

Friday, January 27, 2006


Well, I don't know if this counts because I never actually made it on the date, but anyway here's my story:
My work took me to visit this girls office about three or four times a week. Over the course of a few months we had gotten to know each other, joked around a bit and I felt a mutal attraction so I thought I would call and ask her out. No big deal, I've been out with many, many women. Have no problem talking with friends and strangers self esteem, high, (at least up to that point) the worst that could happen is she'd say no right? Wrong! Read on...I picked up the phone, called her office, was connected to her extension and got voice mail. As soon as her sweet voice said "Leave a message after the beep" For the first time in my 28 years I felt an actual full blown PANIC ATTACK! My hands started shaking, throat closed up, but still I had to press on,after all this was voicemail! So, in gasping , panting whispers I managed to grunt out the words and ask her out along with leaving my number for the call back. Day one, no call. Day two, no call. Day three, I'm back at her office. She's not at her desk (although possibly hiding under it) and her formerly friendly coworkers are being very cool indeed. Months went by and I didn't see her except for once when our eyes met across a distant hall and she actually turned and RAN! I was confused, but not too concerned and just continued to do my job. So fast forward a few more months and I'm explaining to my buddy what happened, her strange behaviour, along with the call and the panic attack...he started laughing and then, with a little too much glee, solved the puzzle for me..."They thought you were WHACKING OFF!" he said!
My face went pale, then it all made sense. The next day I shuffled some accounts with
another rep and never went back there again. It is my final hope that either that girl or one of her coworkers will read this and pass on my final message to her: I WASN'T! REALLY...I WASN'T, NO, I REALLY WASN'T ,IT WAS A PANIC ATTACK...HONEST!!

Editors Note: I bet he was...:O)

Under The Table

i have several doozies....but I think this is one of the better
ones....I had met this girl years ago and I wanted to take her out and show
her a nice night on the town...we went out to a bar called Brandys (dating
myself a bit there by naming it eh?) and had a really good couple of hours
and a few drinks...because i wanted to impress her I didn't drink very much
and was pretty much sober...we left the bar and were walking along in
lovely down town Halifax when some friends of mine drove by in a limo...we
hopped in and ended up driving around the town drinking rum and coke with
them for about 2 hours....I should mention that one friend is a well known
lawyer, another owns a reputable business in town and the other is the manager
of a bank; all respected and respectable citizens who certainly don't want
to be involved in something embarrasing, especially in public (this will
make more sense in a minute). At one point my friend Doug says that he is
hungry and we should all go to Alfredo Weinstein and Ho together for a meal.
Since my date and I were planning on exactly that before we ran into them,
we decided to all go together. My buddies are all wealthy men and were so
impressed with my date that they insisted on paying for our dinner. In
fact, they instructed us to order whatever we wanted on the menu,
regardless of cost. The five of us managed to order about $500 worth
of food and alcohol. To top it all off, my friend Mike was a waiter there
and had got us a really good table right where we could see and be seen by
ALL in the restaurant, on this busy weekend night. As the first course
arrived I suddenly felt a little faint, which Mike noticed as he was passing
by, because I looked so pale. Discretely he walked me to the bathroom and
helped me splash some cold water on my face. He told me to wait in the
washroom for five minutes and he would return to escort me back to the
table but after a while I started to feel really silly. I could SEE
the table from the doorway of the bathroom and also I could tell that Mike
was really busy so I thought "to hell with this, I'm a big boy and I feel
fine so I'm just going to walk over and sit in my seat"....oh boy....I got
about half way there when the heat of the room brought the dizziness back
ten times worse and I knew i was going to faint if I couldn't sit down. It
was too far back to the bathroom so I went straight for the table as
carefully as I could. I made it all the way there and was just in the process of
sitting down...I thought to myself "I made it!!"....but I missed the
seat as I sat down. So of course instinctively I grab for the first thing
in front of me, which is the table, or more specifically the tablecloth.
As gravity took its natural course I pulled absolutely everything on the
table onto myself as I lay dazed upon the floor. The entire restaurant was
so quiet that you could hear a PIN drop. My friends were completely
mortified as was my date,( You have never in your life seen 100 dollar bills
come out and people leave a restaurant so fast in your life, I guarantee it).
As to my date...she never called me again and I was too chicken to call her
(hi its the guy that pulled $500 bucks worth of food and liquor on
himself..wanna go out again??) addition it was years before my
friends went to dinner with me again.

Thursday, January 26, 2006

The Wealthy Waiter

Editors Note: Sorry but I couldn't publish the guys full
profile's legally unwise.

I have one hell of a bad online date story... I met this
guy who turned out to be a freaking con man! He told
me he was this trust fund kid - had a expansive home
in philadelphia, an apt. in NY, a vacation home in
mexico, and a private plane for his business. Now let
me make it clear that he didn't tell me all this at
once. It was over the course of 3 weeks - so it didn't
strike me as totally off. I just thought he was
successful. It slowly started to unravel. He cancelled
every time we were supposed to get together. Once he
gave me a phone number that I paid to get the unlisted
number for - it was for a freaking pay phone! He is
big liar. I reported him to - they did
nothing. I would advise any woman living in the philly
area to avoid a guy on match with the profile name -
I think he will try to get your bank account
number/personal information. The kicker of this whole
story is that when i finally told him not to call me
again, I didn't hear from him for a week - then i
walked into a restaurant - and he was the waiter. This
is the kind of story you find on 20/20 or 60 minutes.
If you live in philadelphia - definitely look at his
photo and avoid him!

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

The Coolest Guy (of 1942)

I had taken my friend for outpatient surgery and was passing time in the hospital cafeteria. I engaged in a conversation with a very hot thirty something Dr. He noted my accent and asked where I was from. He then told me his colleague was from my hometown and that we just had to meet. I was dubious but this guy was HOT and what the heck? I didn't give him my number but a few days later he had his secretary track me down and i agreed to let Dr. X call me. He called me at work so we couldn't chat but we arranged to go out for dinner. My roommate was impressed when I told her I was having dinner with a renowned cardiologist from my hometown. My cafeteria friend had described him as tall and handsome. I was in my room getting ready and my roommate told me there was a Rolls Royce pulling into our driveway. I knew I was in trouble when I heard her answer the door. "Good evening sir" I heard her say and then I could hear her in her room, stifling her laughter into her pillow. She was laughing too hard to explain so I just took a deep breath and went into the living room. There he was, he was tall for sure, but he was also ANCIENT! It hadn't crossed my mind to ask how old he was. I was 25 at the time and expected a thirty something guy. He was around 70, had a gold shirt unbuttoned to reveal his tacky, but expensive, gold chains and his turkey neck and wrinkled chest. He smiled and his wrinkly, tanned and creased face revealed a full set of too white dentures. His toupee was ridiculous. What could I do? We went to dinner where he droned on about his investments and I drank too much wine. He then took me to a party which was great but I wanted out of there so I told him I was very tired. It was 9:15. He said he'd take me home but needed to stop off at home first. Uh Oh. He drove up this long winding path, expensive security system, six car garage and invited me in. Since I had to "go" I did go into his house where he offered me a drink. I accepted a glass of water and watched him pour himself a nice, stiff drink. He half lay on the couch and I sat perched on a ktichen chair, ready to bolt. To my delight, he promptly fell asleep. It was very classy the way his mouth hung open and for a moment I wondered if he'd died! I checked for a pulse and then took off out of there, sprinting down the winding dark driveway and onto the road and walked to the closest 7-11 where I summoned my roommate to come and get me. He never called again and I'm thinking he probably thought he dreamt the whole thing.

Monday, January 23, 2006

Germany Attacks France...(I wish they'd quit doing that!)

I had been a member of an online dating service for a few months, and had had some good dates, but no one who particularly captured my interest. Then I began communicating with a guy who seemed to have everything I was looking for: religion, culture, worldliness, education, a stable job, not to mention being really good-looking. After some emails and phone conversations, we planned to meet for drinks. I was a little irked that he wanted to meet out in his neck of the woods, a good 25 miles away-my mother always said a gentleman comes to the lady- but figured I could use a change of scenery after all. We got to the parking garage at the same time, so I saw him get out of his shiny black Porsche. I'm not materialistic by any means, but I AM obsessed with fast foreign cars. So I'm thinking this guy is indeed a total package. So we're seated...he says he's not hungry, but I am, and order an appetizer. We're having a fantastically entertaining and intelligent conversation-something SO important to me-about the different countries we've visited, art, history, literature, politics, etc. Except that if we disagreed on something, he kept saying, "You'll get over it." Meaning, I'd eventually agree to his way of thinking. I was really starting to get pissed off and decided to look at the wine list. Well, I could hardly contain myself, because the restaurant had my favorite French wine, which is very hard to find here. BIG MISTAKE. I had totally forgotten that he was born and raised in Germany and next thing I know, I'm getting a lecture about WWII and how screwed up France is-not to mention their position on the current war. After listening to this litany for about ten minutes, and I mean, it was REALLY BAD, I very diplomatically said that we probably would not be a good match, as 1) I've been speaking French since I was eight; 2) I am a member of the Alliance Francaise; and 3) I've been to Paris more times than I've been to the corner store. That's when it really hit the fan. He told me that I shouldn't have said that, just continued with the date and parted ways quietly, and, oh, yes, while I had a SOMEWHAT pretty face (okay, not to sound conceited, but all of my friends describe me as "stunning"), I really wasn't anything to write home about, and in fact I was "just a b**** like all the rest" of the women he meets. I very quietly placed some money on the table-which was more than enough to pay for the appetizer I barely got two bites of, since he was, in fact, hungry, and his three beers-and walked out.

Saturday, January 21, 2006

The Archives

Don't forget to check our archive pages for such timeless classics as
"The Stain in Spain" and "If the Spew Fits"...ah, romance (sniff,sniff...makes me a little misty). and of course if you'd like to share your own bad date with the world, we'd love to hear it! Just send us an e-mail at or leave it in the comments section below.

Friday, January 20, 2006

The Dangers of Smoking

This happened a number of years ago. It was a hot August afternoon in the Southwest and I was driving home after a day of swimming with my new sweetie. She was looking very fine in her teeny , tiny bikini and all I had on was a pair of cutoffs. As we drove back to her place, stealing glances back and forth, I took a cigarette from a pack in my visor. Suavely placed it between my lips and with my thumb cooly flicked a wooden match into flame...unfortunately I also managed to "cooly flick" the burning sulpher head off of the match. Where, speeding along at 40 MPH, I watched it fall onto my most prized possesions, that had apparently found their way out of the leg of my cutoffs. Now I don't know wether it was the terrifying swerving of my Volkswagon, my high pitched screams, or the torrent of swearing that followed, but for some reason, she didn't invite me hurts.

Not Posted

Note to B.C.,
I did not post your story because I simply do not believe that anyone would confuse the
abbreviation DWF as meaning DWARF! Funny, but unlikely...sorry.

Right Place, Wrong Guy...or Vice Versa

A good friend of mine decided to play matchmaker. She emailed me pics of a really handsome guy. So he calls me, I send him pics of myself, and we start making plans to meet. "Mark" lives about 25 miles southwest of me, in the burbs, but said he wouldn't mind coming into the city, where I live, to meet for lunch. He asks if I'm familiar with this particular restaurant (he had been there a few nights before, after the football game). I tell him yes, I live seven blocks from it. (Interjection: this place has three other locations in this very big city.) We agree to meet at 11am the next day, as he has a meeting later that day. So the next morning, I get out to my car and am having trouble getting out of my parking space-it's legal to double-park here, and someone parked really close to me-so I call him (he's already at the restaurant) and tell him I may be a little late, but I only live two minutes away, so no worries. My neighbor guides me out and I'm on my way. I pull into the parking lot, and this REALLY HOT GUY comes over to me as I get out of my car. I'm thinking, yee-ha, he's hotter than his pictures! He's dressed fantastically, big smile on his face, gives me a kiss on the cheek...then he goes, "Did you get lost?" I'm all, "No, I told you I couldn't get my car out." That should have been my first clue that something was not right. He puts his arm around me as we go inside. Once inside, it's obvious that he knows the everyone there, which I thought was strange, since he doesn't live in this area. Now he's on his cell, and he's heading to the back of the place. I say, "Should I follow you?" He tells the waitress to get me a table and says he'll be right back. He goes into the bathroom, still on his cell, and he's there for like five minutes. Okay, something's wrong...I call Mark's cell and get his voicemail, leave him a message, then call the friend who set us up. At this point, he comes out, still on the cell, and heads outside. I ask the waitress what his name is and she says, "That's (...), he's the owner of the restaurant." Okay, most definately NOT who I am supposed to be meeting. So I tell her I'm on a semi-blind date, and are there any single guys in the place looking like they're waiting for someone? She goes to look and reports back that there is NO ONE else there. I tell her I can't understand why he acted like he was waiting for ME and she says, "Well, he IS pretty friendly." I ask if he's single. {No. :( } Now, Mark calls, and we figure out that he's at one of the other locations, a good HALF-HOUR north. I'm really perturbed...WHY would he go to the one that is so far away from BOTH of us, when I told him I lived right around the corner from this one??? I mean, the one he was at was like FORTY miles from his house! We had to reschedule. Long story short, we went out a few times, but by our third date he still hadn't made an attempt to kiss me...I had to ASK for a kiss. And it sucked. It was like a screen kiss, no tongue, nothing. Lame. I never called him again. And now I'm slightly embarrassed to go back to that restaurant, which was one of my favorite hangouts!

Thursday, January 19, 2006

Worst Date Ever!!!

I have stumbled upon a story that is the absolute, 100% certain WORST DATE EVER! I'm doing a little fact checking to make sure that it's not an urban myth, but early indications are that it's true
and HORRIFYING! So check back, I may not post it until Valentines Day though (in the spirit of the holiday). Mean while if you have a Bad Date Story?We'd love to hear it!Please post it in the comments section below or e-mail it to me at:
Thanks , Bullwinkle

Can You Hear Me Now?

Hi there!
Thought you might like this one althought I'm sure it's pretty mild compared to most that you are going to get out there. Went on a first date with a guy and decided to meet him at the restaurant. When I got there and we sat down he damn cell phone kept ringing and he would answer it! Not only was he talking on the phone at the table(major no-no) but he was talking in a foreign language and I could hear my name thrown in there a time or two. Every time he would get off the phone I would ask him to please not do that but he kept on answering the phone and doing the same damn thing! When he got up to use the bathroom (while on the phone, mind you) I simply got up and left the restaurant. What a loser!!!

Monday, January 16, 2006

And "Baby" Makes Three...

So I had just broken up with my boyfriend and was excited that this guy from my neighborhood who I'd had my eye on asked me out. He had just broken up with his (crazy as a loon) girlfriend. Now, he had a really thick wanna-be-wise-guy Jersey accent, but his hot body, square jaw, thick jet-black hair and blue eyes more than made up for it. And boy, could he kiss. Hoo-weee! Anyway, we go to the boardwalk and are having a good time when his ex calls. And calls. And calls. And calls. She's screaming at him, "Are you out with a girl? We just broke up, were you cheating on me with her?!" Etc. In two seconds, he turned into a p****whipped, whiny little mouse. He even paid a stranger to say "Yo, Stevie, the table's ready," into the phone so she'd think he was out with friends. She must have called thirty times during our date, and the worst part is, he would not turn off his phone! He kept answering it, swearing he was not out with another woman! "Awwww, baby, I'm not out with a woman, I'm out with the guys..." BABY?! I could hear her screaming from 10 feet away! Anyway, then he tells me he's tight with these VIP's, who I happen to be tight with...and let me just say, these are people who HATE hangers-on...which is what he was, because my friends never heard of him. Anyway, it was such a weird situation after that, I told him I could not see him anymore until he resolved everything with his ex. Really, I didn't EVER want to see him again, so I moved shortly after that. Well, I just got a promotion so I don't have to travel for work anymore-I used to be gone three weeks a month-so now that I'm home a lot, guess what I found out? His mother lives three doors down. And he just moved in with her. So now I have to see him almost every day and hear "How's my baaaabydooollll?" and listen to him drone on about how's he's ready and looking to get married. Let's just say, I'm looking to move AGAIN. Perhaps out of state.

Sunday, January 15, 2006

Oh, Thankyou for Coming...

Editors Note: This story contains adult themes concerning foul, disgusting behaviour, so don't read it...I mean it, do not read this story!

We went out to dinner on Saturday night, and you called yesterday. I will NOT, under ANY circumstances, be calling you back, and I thought you might want to know why.
I had high hopes for you, you know. You were really cute, seemed articulate and reasonably intelligent, and worked at a decent job. But, man oh man, you SO BLEW IT.
Dinner was good, I have to admit. We chatted amiably and there weren't any of those long pauses in conversation where you feel all awkward and desperately scan the room looking for something to comment on. In fact, dinner was pleasant enough that I invited you up to my apartment for a drink. That's when things started to go wrong.
First off, even though I did ask you to come up, I'm not a slutty gal. I suspect that you thought just because I asked you to come in my house you were going to get LUCKY LUCKY LUCKY, but, let me tell you, asking me about whether or not I like "toys" on a first date and about my feelings regarding oral sex - that's a big NO for me. It's not that I don't like those things, I do, but that's just WAY too personal for a first date. In the same way that I wouldn't tell you about, for example, the worst thing that ever happened to me, or how I felt when my grandma died, or about my parent's divorce, or about how many hours I was on the toilet when I got food poisoning - because you see, those are personal things and I DON'T REALLY KNOW YOU, and therefore, they are INAPPROPRIATE, I'm not going to chat with you about my sexual habits. Strike one
Okay - so I thought that that was weird and rude, but you leaned in to kiss me and, what the hell, I kissed you anyways. Here's where things went REALLY WRONG! Cumming in your pants because of a 5 minute kiss is NOT IMPRESSIVE and does not bode well for the bedroom and I'm thinking at this point, maybe this is why he's so concerned with toy habits. While I would like to think that maybe I'm some kind of INSANELY good kisser and that because of my skill you were overcome, so to speak, I don't think that's the case. At this point I just wanted you to leave. That was strike 2.
So, then you went to the bathroom to "clean up" and then came back out and gave me this pathetic excuse about how you just remembered you had to return a video that you had left at a friend's house and needed to leave. By the way, that was a completely transparent lie, but I just wanted you to GO AWAY so I pretended to believe it. I suspect you were embarrassed, which you had every right to be, but come on, how stupid do you think I am? I can't believe you bought it when I nodded my head and emphatically agreed with you that late fees were indeed horrible and that, yes, it was an urgent manner that you retrieve your video and get it back RIGHT AWAY. Strike 3 for baldfaced, idiotic lying, you sorry ass.
So, you finally leave, and I'm thinking THANK GOD THAT'S OVER, and GODDAM IDIOT, and I put my sweats on and go to the bathrooom to wash my face and brush my teeth and I soap my face off and rinse it off and grab the handtowel I keep by the sink and I look down squinting because there's water in my eyes and think, "what's that?" and then get a whiff of it and realize OH MY GOD YOU BASTARD you cleaned off your sorry dick on my face towel. Were you not taught any manners? There was plenty of toilet paper, which I would have thought to be the logical choice, but you used my FACE TOWEL. I gagged and threw the towel out of the bathrooom. This is strike 4, and by the way, I had to throw the towel away and while you owe me a nice, thick purple face towel that hasn't been soiled, I will never claim this because that would require seeing you again, and I DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES want to do so.
So anyways, that pretty much sums up why I'm not returning your call, and why I don't like you. You suck.

Saturday, January 14, 2006

"Why Do Birds, Suddenly Appear...La,La,La"

Remember that old Carpenters song they play at weddings? It starts "Why do
birds suddenly appear, everytime you are near..." Well I can't listen to that
song without being reminded of a morning stroll I took with a lovely young
Eastern European lass a few years back. I had gotten up early to work out, and (for once) I was really confident. I felt buff, cool, in charge. She smiled, a dark-eyed beauty...we'd only just met but, who knows, could this be love? I took her hand in mine and we started to stroll toward the park when...a pigeon took a MASSIVE POOP ON MY HEAD! As I felt the trickle working its way down my forehead I knew the spell had been broken. I would never fully recover my "coolness" and the relationship went straight downhill after that...and now, writing this, I've got that horrible song stuck in my head again..."Why Do birds, suddenly appear everytime you are near..."

Friday, January 13, 2006

A Fatal Misstep

The date herself was not bad. Conditions beyond my control and outside my sphere of influence conspired to destroy any hope of enjoyment for myself and my date. It had been a year, over a year since an important relationship fell through, and I was just beginning to come out of hiding and start looking at women again. I was trying online dating, which many assume immediately lends itself to certain doom, but it was an idea I could grasp at the time, and something I had enjoyed trying previously. After a few weeks of tweaking my online profile, I was in contact with a lovely lady and emailed for about a week. Our first date rolled up and she seemed very nice, attractive, and creative. Carless as I was, she picked me up and we proceeded to the Laurelhurst Theater to see Bubba Ho Tep. Everything seemed great, I was finally "out there" again, my date and I definitely clicked, and we were about to watch an elderly Elvis beat the snot out of a cowboy/mummy. She parks the car. It was dark. I open the door. I swing a leg out onto the grassy knoll. My favorite boots, steel-toed vegan waffle-stompers, slide across a viscously solid heap of canine dung, detritus, animal waste, DOG SHIT. "Shit," I says. I tell her and she laughs good-naturedly, assuring me it doesn't matter and telling me it's more funny than anything. I do what I can by scrubbing my deep soles on mounds of grass, eyes keenly scanning the darkness for more treacherous mounds, but to no avail. I spend the 15 minutes before the movie desperately trying to clean out the waffle with my key in the stall of the bathroom, rinsing shit into the sink when no one else is in the john. The entire movie, every shift of my feet brings fresh clouds of shitstink wafting up from below, and I detect my nearby fellow movie patrons lifting their noses to the breeze at the detection of some foul presence in the air. I sweated like Rodney Dangerfield the duration of that film, certain that I would be thrown out and beaten by a cabal of angry moviegoers. How can one really appreciate Bruce Campbell when the smell of dogshit hangs static in a warm movie auditorium? She was cool. We went out a few more times, but that was it. Despite my love for wild and domesticated beasts, Portland dogs and their owners, whether responsible or not, were viciously and unapologetically cursed under my breath for many months to come. That is all.

"No problem. Try again. Fail again. Fail better."
-Samuel Beckett

The Potato Man

Ok so this is my BAD DATE! I responded to a personal ad, to a guy,
we'll call M, He's late 30's I am late 20's. He has very fair skin and
is not attractive but seemed very nice.He sent a few pictures and stated
that he was some bigwig that works with pro-athletes. I am a very
attractive police officer s,to protect myself when we spoke over the phone, I
asked him for his last name..(to find out if I am going on a date with a
serial killer). He sounds like a gentlemen and says his last name , but I
didn't understand it and after him saying it twice I just thought I would not
be rude, and agreed to meet him on our date.
I tell my girlfriends what I am doing (just in case) and pack my
weapon..before the date on the phone this guy is going on and on about
all the fancy things he gets to do and all the property he owns in Troy
Michigan...I really could care less (as long as you were nice and
didn't sponge off of your mom) but anyways he says to meet him at the
Somerset Mall PF Changs.. I arrive first and find out there is a 2 hour wait.So I
call him and ask did you make reservations? (i mean you said you were
this big hot shot) NOPE no reservations.. I already have the feeling that this
is not going to be a good date..
I am about to leave when he walks in. I tell him I am not waiting 2
hours to sit down and eat.. He says "don't Go" well find another place..So while
we are walking around the mall,, He is very "grabby" grabbing my waist
pulling me close to him says how GOOD we look together..(well of COURSE you
look good with me) all I could think was EWWWWW yuck, he didn't look like
his pictures at all!! He was a fat white guy, and I really believe he
lacked anything in his body to give him some type of color! He was bright red,
like he just went tanning before he came to meet me. So I am walking around
with this bloated red guy who has a dangley doubble chin.. so we are
wallking around and he says "do you want to go shopping? I buy you a purse" I
stated that I have a purse and I do not want him to take me shopping!
I wanted to eat!( I figure at least I can get dinner out of this) We find
ourselves at the marshall fields cafe..(ohh 5star) He orders a roast
beef sandwhich and mashed potates, I think I got a salad or something..Over
dinner conversation I ask him again what his last name is and with a
mouthfull he answers and again I can not understand..
I am tired of this so I ask him WHAT IS YOUR LAST NAME? He gets all
huffy and says WHY? I don't like to give my last name out to anyone, I am a
VIP and I have to protect myself from "moochers" I realize that this guy
is a BIG FRAUD! Why else would he not give me something as simple as his
name?? Then he started on with how rich and sucessfull he is, with a MOUTH
FULL OF MASHED potatoes,, He looked like a baby who was eatting solid food for
the first time! While dodgeing the little bits of potatoes and watching his
turkey neck swing back and forth..I told him that I had to be going..He
insited that he walk me to my car..I stated NO THANK YOU! and to be
more of a butt hole he wouldn't drop it, saying oh I want to make sure your
safe ,blah blah, blah so I finally told him..I will be safe I have a gun
leave me ALONE!!!
He called a few times and I had one of my good friends (who's a guy)
say he
was my brother and to not call there anymore...Thank goodness!!! No
more potato man!

Drunk Yuppie

I had this one memorable (!) date back in '89 that I still talk about at parties.
We met through a personal ad, and exchanged many different calls before we set a date to actually date. I was leery.. but he sounded so cute, and educated (he'd been to Georgetown, you know) and worked for DuPont and seemed stable and safe. Boy was that a stretch. We met at a nice inner-city pub that we'd both talked about. Quiet, dim-lit, and cozy. I was self-concious about being out late..Parking in the city was a bitch at night on a Saturday. But he sounded so worth it.
I showed up on time, and sat at the bar as planned. He arrived 20 minutes late. Dressed nicely, except for the converse hi-tops that seems outta place. He was visibly well on his way to being drunk, and instantly a charmer with his first "Wow.. you're a little BIG, aren't you?" quip.
He WAS cute. Handsome, really in that "my father's a doctor" waspy kind of way. But as the evening lingered he became more and more arrogant. What happens to the men who talk sweet on the phone, and then show up as the irritable drunked buttheads they really are?
I listened to his rants about his new RX-7 which he got for graduation..and how he'd actually been FORCED to go to Georgetown, having been thrown out of some other school. Daddy was an ass..but all was cool now, 'cause he'd landed this job at DuPont and was rakin' the suckers over for a huge salary that he didn't deserve.
By the end of the already on-my-nerves date, he'd become SO intoxicated that I was afraid to let him drive home. I guess I deserve my punishment, since I wanted to do the right thing..and I suggested I drive him home.
He didn't want to go home..he didn't want to go home drunk (again) of course, Polly-Anna here said: "Fine. You can stay overnight with me.. but NO funny stuff." He gave me that look that said: Honey, you're too fat for me anyway. So I guessed I was safe.
He'd drive, he said.
"Oh, no the hell you won't, sugar" I said. "If you could drive home, you'd be driving yourSELF home at this point, so get in".
He didn't want to drive in a Buick, he said.. and besides - he wasn't leaving his RX-7 in the city.
Fine. I told him I'd drive HIS car to MY place, and that he could take it or leave it.
He was passed out cold in the passenger seat when I arrived home a half an hour later. I decided to let him sleep in his car, until he woke up.. which was noon the next day. He woke up, rang the bell and asked me if I let him sleep out there all night (duh!) and did I have a good time? I just gave him a look of disgust. He then asked if I knew how to get to the interstate from .. where was he?
I said: Down the street, left on Main at the light, and go *&^*# yourself.
I rolled my eyes, and slammed the door and just laughed at my luck.

Thursday, January 12, 2006

He Wore His Heart On His Sleeve ( and Her Lunch On His Shoes)

I had a date with a woman I met through an online personals site. She
was everything she seemed to be in her ad. Pretty and smart. We seemed to be hitting it off really well.
Over dinner we made plans to stop at a nearby sports bar and have a
couple of drinks.Unknown to me at the time, the bartender at the sports bar was an old friend of hers and free-poured the daylights out of her drinks. I'm drinking beer, so no problems. I thought everything was going great, that is until my date abruptly stood up and puked on my shoes.
I drove her home, gave her roommate a lift to pick up her car and
called it a night. We did go out again a couple of times after that, but she never could fully overcome her embarassment about our first date.

The Dollar Date Dickhead

I titled this "Dollar Date" because, if I'm doing my math right, this guy got to go to an NFL game, put his car in paid parking, guzzle a load of over priced beer, enjoy the company of and actually TOUCH the lovely M.K. (who send us the story) for a total investment of $7. However since $6 was given back to him in the form of gas, that leaves this date costing just 4 shiny quarters!! Am I right? Oh and the "Dickhead" part of the title?...well read on...

Friday August 19, 2005
Fedex Field
Skins v Bengals

So this guy I met online--but not yet in person--asks
me out. He says he wants to go up to Fedex to see his
Bengals play in pre-season. And because the most
effective way to get me to say yes is to ask me to
attend a sporting event, I of course say yes. I'll
just say now, I will never make that mistake again.

Previous to his telling me he wanted to get scalped
tickets a friend of mine offered me his seats for $30
less than face value. So now that I have someone I can
use them with, I tell my friend I definitely want

My date gets directions to my office and shows up in
his Vette--whoop-de-doo. He warns me that he had left
the top off his car the previous night and it had, let me tell you, I love peeling damp
jeans from my ass and legs. So we start heading up to
meet my friend--and the guy who made me laugh and who
was so clever online is now much less than funny, and
far less than clever--nerves maybe?? But he begins to
show his true colors.

We meet my buddy, and my date searches though his
pockets and wallet,and realizes he doesn't have enough
money and his ATM card isn't going to work--something
about a BIG check he just deposited being on hold for
a few days--so he can't draw any funds off of it.

So, no problem, I pay for the tickets ($100), stick
the envelope under the left strap of my bra for safe
keeping, and we head up to the game. We park at
Landover Metro and take the shuttle in. The whole time
he is complaining that he is on a public bus, and how
he felt dirty. (BTW I should mention that I am
car-less. And, yes he does know that I commute by bus
EVERYDAY) At the gate he pulls out $7 and asks me for
$3 more so HE can pay for the shuttle rides. I realize
now that this is all the cash he has on him. I get the
shuttle tickets from the attendant--slide them into
the envelope next to the game tickets and stow them
away as before.

We enter the stadium, I hit the ATM again, we find our
seats and I buy us a couple beers ($14). He is the
typical football fan and a bit obnoxious and is
cussing --which would be ok with me if we weren't
sitting 2 rows back from a family with a small child
in tow. So I ask him to tone it down as far as the
cussing went--for which I get chastised because he
thinks that if the Skins Fans who are seated all
around us had heard me, a woman, telling him how to
behave and he complied they would think less of him as
a man. Hmmm.

So, each quarter (not wanting to break my bank) I buy
us 1 beer each ($28). I am trying to make the best of
a bad situation--I chat with the other fans, and joke,
when he gets too obnoxious, about how "I am really not
with him" and "can someone give me a ride home to

Meanwhile, there is ANOTHER self-important S.O.B
talking away too loudly about how much effing money he
makes and how effing much he effing knows about effing
sports and effing this and effing that. And I can see
everyone look his way and roll their eyes but not say
anything--my issue, again, is the small child in front
of us. So finally when he finishes his little sports
rant I turn to him and tell him to "watch [his] mouth,
have some respect for the families with small
children." And of course as I turn around
Self-Important S.O.B. is calling me an effing c*** to
which my date responds with some sort of antiquated
defense of my honor. (Now normally I appreciate a guy
who has my back--but this show of force is just
annoying at this point as he has already proven he is
not a gentleman.) But still it was effective--after
another 10 minutes Self-Important S.O.B. states loudly
if he doesn't pee he is "going to explode" gets up ad
walks up the steps. And he indeed must have
exploded--because we didn't see him after that.

But now my date is "riled up." And just 5 minutes
before the end of the 4th quarter he heads up to use
the facilities forgetting his ticket stub. So when he
attempts his return the usher stops him and won't let
him back to the seat alone, so the usher escorts him
down. The whole way down the steps my date is mouthing
off to the usher--who I should point out IS JUST DOING
HIS JOB!!!! When I show him the stub my date
beligerantly and loudly says "HA, see there you
minimum-wage-working-mutha-f***er, that was bull s***"
And of course the usher again doing his job politely
tells my date to sit down and shut up or he'll be
removed. To which my date responds in surprise "with 2
minutes left in the effing game???" and adds "I can
buy and sell you a million times over you

Well all I could think was Really?? Because you
can't buy a damned beer in this place!
And I stood
up this time addressing the crowd in all seriousness
"I am not with him, can someone please give me a ride
back to Virginia??" Needless to say we were thrown
out--well HE was--but my bag was still in his car--so
I had to go too--and at the top of the steps--I run
into my old boss who sees me with this loser. UGH

We don't say much on the trip back to the car--I am
fuming--and so is he but for COMPLETELY different
reasons. We drive home--and he asks me if I have
anymore cash because he needs to put gas in his car.


So I put $6 worth of gas in his car--just so I can get
myself home and cut my losses.

When we get to my house I mention that I have to pull
the trash cans in--he gets out and does it for me, he
walks me to my door--but he has the nerve to walk
across my threshold when I open the door. So I think
fine--I will sit here and chat for a minute. While we
are sitting on the couch he starts getting
handsy---and I am NOT subtle in removing his hands
from my body.

Sometime during our very superficial conversation I
get something in my eye--and I have to excuse myself
to flush it out--so I head upstairs. Does he wait
downstairs?? Nooooooooo, he follows me up and plops
down on my bed.


So when I am finished in the bathroom, my eye
completely red and puffy and teary, I tell him I am
not comfortable with him in my room, and in fact I am
not comfortable with him in my home. He gets this
dejected looking, puppy dog face on and starts down
the steps. I walk him to the door, and he says "Well,
I guess I won't be hearing from you again." To which,
I say nothing, but close the door, lock and chain it
and think "You guessed right"

So let's recap.
Tickets $ 100
Beer $ 42
Gas $ 6
shuttle $ 3
This complete waste of my time Priceless

And in case you hadn't heard the Skins lost to the
Bengals 17 to 24.

Why in the hell would you keep yourself in such a
shitty situation and then continue to let some douche
take you home (get a cab), and then come into your
home and talk to him? Plus, why the hell would you
give him money?


So, I should get a cab from Fedex Field to Vienna, VA?
Do you know how much that would have cost?? I already
dumped 150 bucks... Sure why not just put another
50-60 bucks on top of that??? Screw that! He can drive
my cute and patient ass home.

While I agree I could have gotten out of the
situation--I was there to see the game as much as I
was there to see the guy and by the way the seats were
phenomenal. So, while I can hold my own when I need
to, I am just as non-confrontational as the next

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

Flint Westwood... or Ok, I've met Ugly, So Where's Good and Bad?

My sister and I still laugh about her date with "Flint Westwood." She had placed a personal ad to meet someone. She is a stunning girl, with a great figure and a terrific sense of humor, but wanted to try something different to meet her Mr. Right. Well, she got a call from a guy...nice chat...said he looked like Clint Eastwood (in Eastwood's younger, moustached days). So they agree to meet for a drink. She looks all over the bar, can't find him, because there's nobody who looks REMOTELY like Mr. Eastwood. But there IS a guy with an enormous, god-awful mustache, who looks easily 15 years older than he said he was. Sure enough, he's the blind date. They order some beers. He comments that her hair is not really blond (it was dishwater--I suppose he thought she'd be bleached or something). She comes back with "you didn't mention your hair was salt-and-pepper." He then tells her, "oh, it's not--it's probably Dog Hair." He then runs his hand threw his hair, and all the dog hair falls out onto his shoulders and the table. She about threw up. Then, he takes a sip of his beer, and gets foam all over his gynormous moustache. She's trying to be polite, so she points and says, "oh, you've got foam on your moustache." Rather than pick up a napkin, the guy pulls his lower lip up over his 'stache and loudly SLURPS the foam off of it! She stayed just long enough to drink half her beer so as not to appear too rude, then said she really needed to get going.

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

Who Doesn't Like A Little Head?.

In a moment of temporary insanity, I decided to join an online dating site. So this guy emails me, and boy, he was totally hot. Young, thick dirty-blond hair, buff...but that was a problem. He was 10 years younger than me. Being a single mom, I'm particular about who I will date. It's not just me anymore, you know. I have to consider who it is I may potentially bring into my child's life. Anyway, he tells me that since he has a eight-year-old, he doesn't see the age difference being a problem. Okay, so we meet. Well, if he hadn't walked right up to me at the restaurant, I would not have recognized him. Yep, he was buff, all right, but his head was not in proportion to his body. It was TINY. The movie Beetlejuice came to mind, with the shrunken-head guys. His cheeks were sunken in. The thick dirty blond hair was actually thin, unkempt and sun-bleached white (I HATE that). No thick, kissable lips like in his picture; his mouth was a thin gash, and he had BRACES. I was still reelng from that shock, when, in the course of our conversation, he admitted that he'd lied about his age. He wasn't 27, he was my age. Anyway, I made it through lunch and mumbled something about possibly getting together over the weekend. Normally I'm really upfront about my feelings if I'm not interested, but I really was just speechless at the whole thing. Later, I emailed him (I know, lame) that I couldn't see him anymore because he had lied. So began his email campaign of totally dissing me, calling me every name in the book and insisting that he didn't lie to me, he just withheld the truth until we could meet in person. And even though I'd told him that I hadn't dated in a while, he kept saying I was trying to pin him as a liar just to cover the fact that I had "too many dates to handle." Whatever.

Saturday, January 07, 2006

The Speed Date

I'm a single guy and, due to my job don't get to meet alot of eligible women in my age range, so I decided to give one of those "speed dating events" a try. It was held in one of those large, multi-room, mega bars. Now I should mention that I suffer from just a touch of night blindness and the lights were very dim, so I was lurching up and down a bit (couldn't see the stairs on the multi-level floor) trying to find which room held the event.There I stood , squinting and scratching my head, when I spied two women holding the same speed dating brochure that I had in my hand. Problem solved! They got up from the bar, so I followed. Up some stairs, down a hall, through an open door and...the two women turned, wide eyed with anger and fright...I was in the womens bathroom!
I made my apologies, got some directions and finally found the correct location. The room had been separated into about twenty separate stations (tables) at each table sat a woman and the guys, at two minute intervals, would make their way from station to station until we had all had twenty two minute "speed dates". At table #1, the woman was nice, but no sparks, so I headed to table #2. Sat down and felt a cold ,wet puddle, spreading over my butt...the idiot guy in front of me had spilled a full glass of Jack Daniels on the seat, not cleaned it up and not told anybody! This meant that I spent the next 36 minutes, explaining to 18 women why I had:
a) been seen in the Womens Bathroom
b) was observed lurching around the main room.
c) smelled strongly like whiskey.
d) had a large wet stain on my butt...sigh
Strangely, quite a few women contacted me later...lucky for me I guess things really are desperate out there!

Smart Girl

Though this was many years ago I still call it a bad date.
I was 16 and it was the mid 80's. Cutest guy...... saw him at all the "cool" parties and places. Wow, he asked me out.
We were downtown and I felt so special until he said "Don't walk beside me, walk behind me"
Well I did even better. I walked down the stairs to the subway and went home.
I think that shocked the hell out of him, loser!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Friday, January 06, 2006

Jabba the Putz

This story is entirely true! I had been talking to this guy via an AOL chatroom (I know I was pathetic) and he seemed nice although he stated he didnt have a picture of himself but described himself as tall, blonde with a couple of tattoo's. Normally, I am not caught up in appearances as I think personality is more important, so I didnt really press the issue of not knowing exactly what he looked like.
After talking for a few months, we agreed to meet up and go catch a movie together. I live in the North bay area and he lived in the East bay, so I told him I would drive over there and pick him up at his job and we would go to the movie theater from there. So I drive an hour and a half over to where he worked, keep in mind I STILL dont know what he looks like, and walked into the store (he worked as a manager for a retail store) and I went up to the counter and asked if ...... was there. The guy behind the counter looked suprised and went to go get....... who was in the back room.
When ...... finally came out from the back room and I saw him for the first time, I wanted to RUN out of there. This guy weighed about 500 lbs. He was HUGE! But stupid me was too polite to haul ass out of there in front of his co-workers and embarrass him so I waited politely as he grabbed his stuff and got ready to leave the store, meanwhile his coworkers were joking around with him that I was his hot new girlfriend. I stood there totally self conscious and embarrassed.
THEN, after placing his immensely huge body in the passenger side of my car, which took awhile since he had to move the seat all the way back and push the back of the seat all the way down to squeeze into my car, we went to the movie theater, and I have to say I was extremely grateful I was in a town where I didnt know anybody.
We got our tickets and went to sit down and personally I hate sitting in the front of the theater because the screen is so big, I have to look up and it hurts my neck after awhile, but this guy was so big, he couldnt make it up any stairs and the front row had seats that allowed the arm rests to come up so he could fit in them so we had to sit up there in the front row.
When the movie trailers started he started getting fresh with me and putting his hand on my leg, which I was suprised since I wasnt even acting interested in him in the first place, so I immediately picked his hand up off my leg and pushed it away. He just laughed a bit at this and put his big sweaty arm around me and this is when I got up, and grabbed my purse, saying I have to go to the bathroom, and walked down the isle and was on my way out the door when I hear this THUD sound and everyone in the movie theatre gasping.
I turn around to see ...... on the floor. It looked like he attempted to follow me down the isle of seats, but got caught in between the row and fell down, and was now stuck down there trying desperately to get up. I could hear all these other people in the theatre laughing and whispering at him, and so I just kept going like I didnt see a thing and walked out of the theater, and to my car, and just hauled ass out of there, leaving him there.
I think that was a pretty mean thing to leave him there, and I felt bad afterwards, but at the time I was so panicked, I couldnt help it.

Thursday, January 05, 2006

The (I wish I was) Blind Date...

I've received a number of stories that are essentially the same...boy meets girl (or vice versa) on-line, pics are exchanged. They laugh together, cry together play games together and when they finally meet WTF!! Here's one that happened to yours truly: Same as above, meet online, everythings dandy, pics are exchanged, I walk into the cafe' at the appointed time and...she's not there! Twenty minutes, thirty minutes...still nada. So, feeling dejected, I start the slow walk home...then it dawns on me: It was time-change day! Maybe she forgot to reset her watch in which case she'd be arriving at just about that very moment! So, I rush back to the place, swing open the door and , hooray there she is! She turns, our eyes meet, her mouth broadens into a wide grin and... NO TEETH! no kidding, at least none visible...and needless to say, it was too late to run, so we did sit and have a nice long chat.To be honest I was happy that she had time for all those twelve step programs, pleased that her various chronic illnesses were responding well to medication and darn glad too that we wouldn't have to worry about that pimp for at least 8-12 years. But sadly, we would not be able to see each other again because of (insert hastily made up reason here)..."sigh"

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

The Packer Fan

Okay, so I was ready to take the plunge. Well, sort of. I was ready to date someone I met on the internet, but not ready enough to pay for a dating site. SO I meet this guy on Yahoo chat. I see his picure. Not a bad looking guy at all. We talk for a few months online, then by phone, and finally decide to meet. Now we live about 300 miles away from each other. He wants to come all the way out to my neighborhood (Chicagoland). I am not comfortable with that, so I tell him I will meet him partway. We meet in Rockford at a steakhouse.
As I wait for him in the parking lot, I hear him. His 91 Cavalier is dragging the muffler and part of the bumper with it as it exits the expressway. I wonder if the could really be him. After all, he told me he is a sports journalist for the newspaper in his hometown. I assumed maybe he had either a newer car or access to a bungee cord to tack up any parts of his car that are dragging. But the car pulls into the lot and he gets out. I know it is him by the face, but I am stunned, because although he ASSURED me that he was taller than I am (me=5'5"), he was 5'2" at best. He walked up to me, smiling, which was probably not wasy for him to do, considering he was in his Green Bay Packers jersey and khaki shorts. And black socks with black gym shoes. I would have been embarrassed in that get up. But there is no accounting for some people's taste I guess.
I sucked it up, stuck out my hand (waaayyyy out) and said "Hi, I'm *****" he walked right past my outstretched hand, looking for an embrace, and said "Hey baby".
Where did that voice come from?
He sounded like a Keebler elf. Which made sense considering that is about how tall he was. But that is not what he sounded like on the phone. I was musing over this as I peeled him off of me. Then he kept talking. I kept waiting for him to stop. I thought maybe he was kidding. Nope, that was his real voice. WTF, was he disguising it on the phone??
I suggest we go into the restaurant, claiming to be hungry, actually figuring that the sooner we start this date the sooner it would be over. He turns around...and there is HAIR...
People let me tell you.
His crewcut was neatly trimmed. He had a clean moustache/goatee combo.
He had hair 6" LONG sticking out of the top of his shirt. Greasy. Nasty.
We go in. I try to make it pleasant. I try to look past it, thinking, OK, we have had nice conversations before, I can't let what he looks and sounds and dresses like deter me.
In the middle of dinner he pulls out a picture of himself and a much older lady. I ask if it is his mom. He gets offended and says no, it is his late fiancee. I ask him why he is showing me a picture of his late fiancee and why she looks like his mother. He explains to me that they were engaged the year prior but she had died of cancer before they could marry. And in case I ever came to his house and saw pictures of her all over, he just wanted me to know why. I thought the story was sad. I also thought that he was not over her yet. I further thought that she really DID look like his mother. Lastly I thought the day I set foot in this guys house...would be the day hell would freeze over.
We finish dinner, he gets a look in his eye and asks what I want to do. I suggest we sit at the park across the street. We park our behinds on a park bench and talk. In the middle of a conversation, he rolls himself on top of me and starts kissing me. I push him off and ask what the hell he is doing. He says he figured that's what I wanted to do. I told him he figured wrong. Then he got all put out and said that he did most of the driving and that he was thinking he'd get a hotel room for us. I told him to have a real nice time in that hotel room, but I was going home.
Do you know he emailed me the next day and wanted to know when we could get together again??

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

If the Spew Fits or Reasons to Stay Sober at His Parents House

Thanks to the delicate Ms X from...uh, east of the Mississippi for these two tales
of young love:
I very rarely drink hard booze but on my first visit to my new boyfriends parents house, whiskey was all the Dad served...long story short, couldn't find the bathroom, did find my boots
(by the door), threw up into them, put them on, and asked to be taken home. Never saw the guy again and no kiss goodnight either...hmmm must not have liked my cologne.
Now my friends story is worse. The combination was beer, a very , very small bladder, very, very big house and bad directions to the bathroom. She ended up in the laundry room and as she explained "There was just no time left, I HAD to go!" So she lowered her panties, hiked up her skirt and tried to daintly "perch" on the side of the laundry room sink...after the loud crash, the whole family (grandparents too) rushed in to find my friend drunk, on her butt, skirt up by her head, panties by her ankles and lying amidst the remains of a broken sink! It must be love, because, amazingly, they invited her back!

The Interview

Thanks to Ms F...somewhere in the midwest for sending us this "interview Date" story. I think we've all had some similar to this:

About two years ago I met a man from craigslist out for lunch. He was handsome, first-generation Polish, and arrived at the restaurant in the middle of winter on his motorcycle. As I'm wolfing down lunch (I had just been running that morning), he decided not to eat and instead, began with a long series of questions. Where are you from? What do you do? How old are you? It was a veritable interview. Midway through lunch, he turned to more personal questions such as "do you see yourself getting married one day?" and "Do you see yourself having kids?" Well, I was honest in my answers and responded that yes, I did see myself getting married and having which he replied, "do you see yourself having a boy or a girl?" I have honestly never given this much more than 5 minutes of thought in my 32 years, as I think that all kids are a blessing....and there is a pregnant pause in the conversation while I think of a nice way of saying this to him. However, I didn't have time to answer as he chimed in, "I guess it doesn't matter as long as they're white, right?"
I promptly excused myself from the table claiming duty calls, and walked out of the restaurant.

Sunday, January 01, 2006

A Stain in Spain

Some years ago. a Welsh friend of mine was visiting the Spanish resort of Majorca where one morning he met a young French girl, also on vacation. They hit it off immediately and spent the day together laughing, drinking and seeing the sites. Later, after a very filling, spicy Spanish meal...and lots of Sangria, the time seemed right and he invited her back to his hotel. Arm in arm, they strolled along the beachfront to the rear of the hotel where, as a shortcut, he decided to climb over a small fence at the rear of the property. Always a gentleman, he helped the young lady over first and then attempted a manly, one handed vault to join her on the other was at this point, in midair, that his bowels betrayed him. As if the loud sound (we've all heard the stepped on duck analogy) wasn't bad enough. The unmistakable feel of a growing stain in the rear of his white, linen pants, plus the look of horror on his ladyfriends face, told him the date (like the stain) was at an end.