Great! Can we have it? Please add it to the collection either by posting it in the comments section below or e-mail it to us at: baddatesite@yahoo.com We may edit it for content, all names will be changed to protect the innocent and we may publish it in other media in addition to this blog.
In the meantime, if you thought your date was bad, check out our archives. It's chock full of romantic tales like "If The Spew Fits" , "Who Doesn't like A Little Head?" and of course the very rude (but funny) "Thankyou For Coming"...ah, romance sniff,sniff...makes me a little misty.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Slave To Love...Not
I think the old show Naked City said it best, there's a a million stories. Well here's one for the books. Back in my younger days I was in a rock and roll band, and being the early 70's we played all the hot spots in the Chicagoland area. Having a horn section made it great cause we could do all the Chicago, BS&T kinda stuff and I was very good at copying Keith Emerson of Emerson Lake and Palmer. So anyways, we're doing a gig this one night and the people are really getting into it when I notice this one girl about 5'10 , long black hair, great looking face and body, standing at the edge of the stage just staring at me. We started doing Color My World and as I sang the song ,which I really liked, I looked down at her and she had tears in he eyes, so I walked to the edge of the stage, gently wiped the tears from her cheek and softly kissed her on the forehead.
During the break I was standing at the bar having a Coke when the girl walks up to me and taps me on the shoulder. As I turned to face her she reached up , places both hands on my cheeks and plants a kiss on me that had my toes curling. Her name was Felicia (made up) and she said that I the kindest, gentlest man she had ever met. Now I am 6'1'' ,about 280 with long blonde hair and a full beard. I look more like a mountain man than some greek god but hey if she thinks so, well so be it. We talk for 10 minutes or so till we have to start the last set of the night and she asks if she can stick around until after the band is done. I am not going to look a gift horse in the mouth and she was really starting to get to me, so I agreed.
At the end of the night ,as soon as we finished ,Felicia asked if it would be alright if we went back to her place instead of some other bar and that and she would fix me breakfast. She said she had a pool and Hot Tub and I could relax while she was cooking and this just made me happier that a dog in a butcher shop. A little wimper came out of her mouth when she saw me get on my Harley. Then she turned and walked over to her late model Porche, I knew I was in like Flynn at that point.
I followed her and we pull up to this gated community , the guard at the gate greets her and just gave me a look that could kill as I followed her in. I couldn't believe the house she pulled up in front of, like something out of Dynasty. The place was a regualar playboy mansion , lots of art, statues and marble. She led me to a bathroom in the rear where I could find some trunks to change in to while she slipped into something more comfortable.
I know this is long but you have to hear all of it to believe it, because at the time I was thinking I was in some dream and that I'd wake up in some hospital somewhere...but back to the story. I started undressing figuring to grab a quick shower before jumping in the hot tub. The glass enclosed shower was big enough for 6 people and the 8 shower heads started beating the sweat off me when the door opens and there she stands, Naked and beautiful. She walks over and start kissing me and well you can guess what happened.
After the shower I sat in the hot tub for about a hour sipping some wine and then we had a fantastic breakfast, she was a marvelous cook. Soon she took my hand and led me up the staircase and through a set of double doors. The room was pitch black till she hit the light switch and then is when I got the shock of my life. There on the walls were whips, all kinds of restraints, leather, chains. maskes of all sorts and in the middle of the room was a rack. I kid you not a bonafide meadevile torture rack with some guy shackled to it. He has a leather mask on and is chained hand and ankle to this thing. She turns towards me and opens her red velvet robe and is wearing the wildest dom outfit I ever saw and says to me. Now you will join me and become one of my slaves.
I was shocked but started laughing and told her in no uncertain terms that she was nuttier than a fruit cake if she thought I was going to be anyones slave no matter what. I beat feet down to where my cloths were got dressed as quickly as I could and started for the door. She caught up with me begging me to reconsider and that she really liked me and thought we could have a wonderful relationship. I got on my bike and got out of there as fast as I could.
She continued to show up at places we played for about 6 months. She would leave gifts for me with the bartenders with notes of how she missed me and needed to be with me. I tried returning the stuff to her house but the guard said that she said not to let me in and not to accept anything from me, so I now have a Rolex watch, leather motorcycle jacket, Long leather jacket and 3 different rings with diamonds and different precious stones in them. But I am not or will never be someones slave.
During the break I was standing at the bar having a Coke when the girl walks up to me and taps me on the shoulder. As I turned to face her she reached up , places both hands on my cheeks and plants a kiss on me that had my toes curling. Her name was Felicia (made up) and she said that I the kindest, gentlest man she had ever met. Now I am 6'1'' ,about 280 with long blonde hair and a full beard. I look more like a mountain man than some greek god but hey if she thinks so, well so be it. We talk for 10 minutes or so till we have to start the last set of the night and she asks if she can stick around until after the band is done. I am not going to look a gift horse in the mouth and she was really starting to get to me, so I agreed.
At the end of the night ,as soon as we finished ,Felicia asked if it would be alright if we went back to her place instead of some other bar and that and she would fix me breakfast. She said she had a pool and Hot Tub and I could relax while she was cooking and this just made me happier that a dog in a butcher shop. A little wimper came out of her mouth when she saw me get on my Harley. Then she turned and walked over to her late model Porche, I knew I was in like Flynn at that point.
I followed her and we pull up to this gated community , the guard at the gate greets her and just gave me a look that could kill as I followed her in. I couldn't believe the house she pulled up in front of, like something out of Dynasty. The place was a regualar playboy mansion , lots of art, statues and marble. She led me to a bathroom in the rear where I could find some trunks to change in to while she slipped into something more comfortable.
I know this is long but you have to hear all of it to believe it, because at the time I was thinking I was in some dream and that I'd wake up in some hospital somewhere...but back to the story. I started undressing figuring to grab a quick shower before jumping in the hot tub. The glass enclosed shower was big enough for 6 people and the 8 shower heads started beating the sweat off me when the door opens and there she stands, Naked and beautiful. She walks over and start kissing me and well you can guess what happened.
After the shower I sat in the hot tub for about a hour sipping some wine and then we had a fantastic breakfast, she was a marvelous cook. Soon she took my hand and led me up the staircase and through a set of double doors. The room was pitch black till she hit the light switch and then is when I got the shock of my life. There on the walls were whips, all kinds of restraints, leather, chains. maskes of all sorts and in the middle of the room was a rack. I kid you not a bonafide meadevile torture rack with some guy shackled to it. He has a leather mask on and is chained hand and ankle to this thing. She turns towards me and opens her red velvet robe and is wearing the wildest dom outfit I ever saw and says to me. Now you will join me and become one of my slaves.
I was shocked but started laughing and told her in no uncertain terms that she was nuttier than a fruit cake if she thought I was going to be anyones slave no matter what. I beat feet down to where my cloths were got dressed as quickly as I could and started for the door. She caught up with me begging me to reconsider and that she really liked me and thought we could have a wonderful relationship. I got on my bike and got out of there as fast as I could.
She continued to show up at places we played for about 6 months. She would leave gifts for me with the bartenders with notes of how she missed me and needed to be with me. I tried returning the stuff to her house but the guard said that she said not to let me in and not to accept anything from me, so I now have a Rolex watch, leather motorcycle jacket, Long leather jacket and 3 different rings with diamonds and different precious stones in them. But I am not or will never be someones slave.
Monday, March 27, 2006
Psycho Potato Killer
Editors Note: Mucho Thanks to my pal Sadielady for this story. Go visit her blog at http://oystersnbeer.blogspot.com , apparently this is only one of a string of lousy dates she's been going on, unfortunate for her...but GREAT for TheBadDate.com. Keep up the good work Sadie!
There's a cool bar I sometimes frequent that features a live jazz band on Tuesday and Saturday nights. One Tuesday night I was there with a girlfriend, sitting up at the bar drinking martinis, and my friend told me that there was a guy at a table checking me out. During one of the band's breaks the guy walked over to the bar to order drinks for his table and struck up a conversation with us. He had good conversation for a guy approaching two girls at a bar, made us laugh and got our attention. My friend said I should go for it, so when he came back over later for another round of drinks and took up residence in the empty seat next to me, I gave good conversation back and ended up handing out my phone number.
The first date was really good. We went for sushi, which I love. He ordered about half the menu, because there were so many things on it that I had never had before that he wanted me to try. We drank saki, lots of saki. We got along great. After dinner we went to another restaurant that has cool bar areas, outdoors and indoors. We started off outdoors, where there was a singer and a band, and when he asked me to dance during a slow song I laughed out loud at how ridiculous that sounded, especially seeing as how no one else was dancing or had danced the whole time we were there, but when he took no offense at my laughter and said he was serious and why not, and he was standing there beside me with his hand out, and the men in the band were looking at us and smiling their approval, I said okay why not, and we slow-danced. And the thing is, it was actually romantic. I mean, maybe if I were someone else there and saw us get up and dance I would have scoffed at us, but I think it would've been a jealous scoff, because it really made me feel special. Like I was in a romantic movie or something. Or at least a romantic episode of a sitcom on tv. When the band left, we went inside and talked til the place closed down. It was great. And when he dropped me off at home, he kissed me on the cheek, which ended the whole evening off on just the right note. So when he called later to ask for a second date, I was really looking forward to it. If only I had known what a psycho he truly was.
The second date was so completely different from the first date that I still wonder if I was really dating the guy's psycho twin brother that night. It started off by him picking me up at home in his car. Which turned out to be different from the car he had driven the first night. The car he had driven the first night, I found out, belonged to his mom. I also found out that night that he still lives with his mom: major warning sign. Why is it so important that he was driving a different car? Because his car was the freakiest looking thing I have ever seen. At one point in its lifetime it was a normal Honda. But turns out that this guy is a race-car fanatic, and after buying his Honda he decided to take it completely apart and put it back together again with certain modifications. Such as, the floor of the car was about 4 inches from the ground, so that when you step in and sit down you feel like you're about 3 feet tall. Also, the inside looks very bare-bones, not like a normal car: I don't know quite how to describe this better, except to say it looked like he had put the thing together from parts found in a junk yard. The engine made the most horrible noise: it was so loud, I'm sure you could hear it coming from miles away. This is also when I found out that despite the fact he told me on his first date what he did for a living (worked in some boring office), his REAL life's ambition is to be a professional box-car racer. This began a thirty-minute dissertation on box-car racing, which I THOROUGHLY enjoyed.
The first stop on our date was the zoo, which had a special lights show going on for the holiday season. Now this actually struck me as a very nice idea for starting off our second date, plus I had never been to the lights at the zoo before. But it quickly became ridiculous when he started making stupid animal noises at the animals. He was acting more childish than any of the children there, seriously. I guess he sensed my dislike for his behavior, because he quit with the animal noises, turned towards me, and started up some quiet, normal conversation - - soon followed by a move to hold my hand - - quickly followed by an annoying "hey! look! we're holding hands!", after which he started skipping. Yes, skipping. I swear. It was NOT funny.
So then we went to dinner. And here's where it got really scary. We went to an Outback Steakhouse for dinner; each table at an Outback has a picture of an animal at the table. We had some kind of monkey. Which my date NAMED, and then began TALKING TO, and kept talking to throughout the meal. At this point I ordered brown liquor, which I kept ordering throughout the meal. The waitress brought us a small loaf of bread while we were waiting on our food: it was on top of a little cutting board, with a big bread knife. My date asked if I would like some, and I said yes, so he took the bread knife and PUT IT BEHIND HIS BACK. He looked at me and smiled, then looked at the bread loaf and STARTED TALKING TO IT. He talked to it in a fake, high-pitched voice, and he said "hey, mr. bread loaf, how are you! what? what's that behind my back? oh, don't worry, it's nothing! I'm not going to hurt you! Don't be alarmed! See, there's nothing going on - - - (bringing out the knife) Oh! Oh! Oh! (cutting the bread) You're hurting me! You're hurting me! ohh, I'm dying! Ohhhh......" And then he gave me a slice of bread. I am so not making this up. So now I'm just staring at this guy, and when the waitress checks back with us to see how things are going, I just look up at her with desperate eyes and beg her for another Jack Daniels. Pretty soon the food comes: steak and baked potato for both of us. He ate his baked potato first, and when he was finished with it, he used his knife and fork to fold the skin of the potato over and over and over itself, until it formed a sort of rectangle. Then he told me that he had MADE A COFFIN for his potato, since he had killed it. Then he SAID A PRAYER OVER THE POTATO COFFIN, and told it to rest in peace, then moved it off to a side plate and turned to the steak, at which point he repeated the clever routine he had played out with the loaf of bread, the whole hide the steak knife behind the back thing and pretend that he's talking to the steak before he murders it. Again, I am so not making this shit up.
So when the meal was over and we left the restaurant, and he asked if I wanted to go somewhere else and get another drink or something, my answer was "no, please no, please please please just take me home." It was a quiet ride back. Very, very quiet. And when we got to my house, I just got out of the car and walked to my door, not caring whether he was following me or not. He did follow, so I looked back at him once and said goodbye. I guess he knew he had completely scared me off of him for life, because there was no smile, no there no words, there was no attempt to go for a good-night hug or kiss, and no asking for another date. And I never heard from him again, thank God, thank God.
And believe it or not, that's not even the worst of the guys I have dated. So stay tuned for the continuing series.
There's a cool bar I sometimes frequent that features a live jazz band on Tuesday and Saturday nights. One Tuesday night I was there with a girlfriend, sitting up at the bar drinking martinis, and my friend told me that there was a guy at a table checking me out. During one of the band's breaks the guy walked over to the bar to order drinks for his table and struck up a conversation with us. He had good conversation for a guy approaching two girls at a bar, made us laugh and got our attention. My friend said I should go for it, so when he came back over later for another round of drinks and took up residence in the empty seat next to me, I gave good conversation back and ended up handing out my phone number.
The first date was really good. We went for sushi, which I love. He ordered about half the menu, because there were so many things on it that I had never had before that he wanted me to try. We drank saki, lots of saki. We got along great. After dinner we went to another restaurant that has cool bar areas, outdoors and indoors. We started off outdoors, where there was a singer and a band, and when he asked me to dance during a slow song I laughed out loud at how ridiculous that sounded, especially seeing as how no one else was dancing or had danced the whole time we were there, but when he took no offense at my laughter and said he was serious and why not, and he was standing there beside me with his hand out, and the men in the band were looking at us and smiling their approval, I said okay why not, and we slow-danced. And the thing is, it was actually romantic. I mean, maybe if I were someone else there and saw us get up and dance I would have scoffed at us, but I think it would've been a jealous scoff, because it really made me feel special. Like I was in a romantic movie or something. Or at least a romantic episode of a sitcom on tv. When the band left, we went inside and talked til the place closed down. It was great. And when he dropped me off at home, he kissed me on the cheek, which ended the whole evening off on just the right note. So when he called later to ask for a second date, I was really looking forward to it. If only I had known what a psycho he truly was.
The second date was so completely different from the first date that I still wonder if I was really dating the guy's psycho twin brother that night. It started off by him picking me up at home in his car. Which turned out to be different from the car he had driven the first night. The car he had driven the first night, I found out, belonged to his mom. I also found out that night that he still lives with his mom: major warning sign. Why is it so important that he was driving a different car? Because his car was the freakiest looking thing I have ever seen. At one point in its lifetime it was a normal Honda. But turns out that this guy is a race-car fanatic, and after buying his Honda he decided to take it completely apart and put it back together again with certain modifications. Such as, the floor of the car was about 4 inches from the ground, so that when you step in and sit down you feel like you're about 3 feet tall. Also, the inside looks very bare-bones, not like a normal car: I don't know quite how to describe this better, except to say it looked like he had put the thing together from parts found in a junk yard. The engine made the most horrible noise: it was so loud, I'm sure you could hear it coming from miles away. This is also when I found out that despite the fact he told me on his first date what he did for a living (worked in some boring office), his REAL life's ambition is to be a professional box-car racer. This began a thirty-minute dissertation on box-car racing, which I THOROUGHLY enjoyed.
The first stop on our date was the zoo, which had a special lights show going on for the holiday season. Now this actually struck me as a very nice idea for starting off our second date, plus I had never been to the lights at the zoo before. But it quickly became ridiculous when he started making stupid animal noises at the animals. He was acting more childish than any of the children there, seriously. I guess he sensed my dislike for his behavior, because he quit with the animal noises, turned towards me, and started up some quiet, normal conversation - - soon followed by a move to hold my hand - - quickly followed by an annoying "hey! look! we're holding hands!", after which he started skipping. Yes, skipping. I swear. It was NOT funny.
So then we went to dinner. And here's where it got really scary. We went to an Outback Steakhouse for dinner; each table at an Outback has a picture of an animal at the table. We had some kind of monkey. Which my date NAMED, and then began TALKING TO, and kept talking to throughout the meal. At this point I ordered brown liquor, which I kept ordering throughout the meal. The waitress brought us a small loaf of bread while we were waiting on our food: it was on top of a little cutting board, with a big bread knife. My date asked if I would like some, and I said yes, so he took the bread knife and PUT IT BEHIND HIS BACK. He looked at me and smiled, then looked at the bread loaf and STARTED TALKING TO IT. He talked to it in a fake, high-pitched voice, and he said "hey, mr. bread loaf, how are you! what? what's that behind my back? oh, don't worry, it's nothing! I'm not going to hurt you! Don't be alarmed! See, there's nothing going on - - - (bringing out the knife) Oh! Oh! Oh! (cutting the bread) You're hurting me! You're hurting me! ohh, I'm dying! Ohhhh......" And then he gave me a slice of bread. I am so not making this up. So now I'm just staring at this guy, and when the waitress checks back with us to see how things are going, I just look up at her with desperate eyes and beg her for another Jack Daniels. Pretty soon the food comes: steak and baked potato for both of us. He ate his baked potato first, and when he was finished with it, he used his knife and fork to fold the skin of the potato over and over and over itself, until it formed a sort of rectangle. Then he told me that he had MADE A COFFIN for his potato, since he had killed it. Then he SAID A PRAYER OVER THE POTATO COFFIN, and told it to rest in peace, then moved it off to a side plate and turned to the steak, at which point he repeated the clever routine he had played out with the loaf of bread, the whole hide the steak knife behind the back thing and pretend that he's talking to the steak before he murders it. Again, I am so not making this shit up.
So when the meal was over and we left the restaurant, and he asked if I wanted to go somewhere else and get another drink or something, my answer was "no, please no, please please please just take me home." It was a quiet ride back. Very, very quiet. And when we got to my house, I just got out of the car and walked to my door, not caring whether he was following me or not. He did follow, so I looked back at him once and said goodbye. I guess he knew he had completely scared me off of him for life, because there was no smile, no there no words, there was no attempt to go for a good-night hug or kiss, and no asking for another date. And I never heard from him again, thank God, thank God.
And believe it or not, that's not even the worst of the guys I have dated. So stay tuned for the continuing series.
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Deadbeat Dads Dating Downfall
Many thanks to Kathryn for letting me use this story from the blog section of her website http://www.find-a-sweetheart.com .You can read the original version there. I however am choosing to change the name of our subject, only because if I ever do anything stupid enough to rate publicity, I hope someone will do the same for me! Now on to the story:
Our hero, lets call him Wayne, had been contacted by a young lady in response to a personals web ad he'd posted. Excited at the prospect of meeting a new lady love, Wayne was racing (in his 16 year old Cadillac) to the appointed meeting place when, unfortunately, he was involved in a major collision and ended up in the hospital! What could be worse than that you may wonder? An evening that ends in collision and injury before he even meets his date? Well, read on...
Wayne was undaunted. Upon his release from hospital, our hero again contacted his soon to be sweetie and explained his terrible luck. An understanding soul, she accepted his explanation and agreed to meet him at a new location. Everything looked like it would work out fine...except for two small problems. One, his "lady" was a female cop who had recognized his web picture as one of the leading deadbeat Dads in the area, with a warrant out for his arrest (the reason she'd set up the date) and Two, he tried to elude arrest by driving off with a license that had been suspended after the original accident.
Poor Wayne, some romances just aren't meant to be!
Our hero, lets call him Wayne, had been contacted by a young lady in response to a personals web ad he'd posted. Excited at the prospect of meeting a new lady love, Wayne was racing (in his 16 year old Cadillac) to the appointed meeting place when, unfortunately, he was involved in a major collision and ended up in the hospital! What could be worse than that you may wonder? An evening that ends in collision and injury before he even meets his date? Well, read on...
Wayne was undaunted. Upon his release from hospital, our hero again contacted his soon to be sweetie and explained his terrible luck. An understanding soul, she accepted his explanation and agreed to meet him at a new location. Everything looked like it would work out fine...except for two small problems. One, his "lady" was a female cop who had recognized his web picture as one of the leading deadbeat Dads in the area, with a warrant out for his arrest (the reason she'd set up the date) and Two, he tried to elude arrest by driving off with a license that had been suspended after the original accident.
Poor Wayne, some romances just aren't meant to be!
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