The other day, as the train pulled into Grand Central Station, something happened that nobody should ever have to suffer. I saw My Worst Date Ever hovering in the aisle right next to me as he waited to exit. Immediately put on red alert, I sunk down in my seat, slid on a pair of sunglasses and lifted my collar like a high school preppy, hoping this makeshift “disguise” would let me be incognito. Sneaking a sideways glance, I checked to see if it was really him. It had been eons since I'd suffered through several dates with this joker. And oh yes, it was. He looked worse for wear, dishevelled and unkempt. Ha! I thought before the train doors opened and I bolted.
Man, Worst Dates Ever. We’ve all had them, and I hope you’ll share yours in the comments section! And FYI: my friends can forgo the “Amy has always had dubious taste” comments. That was a long time ago. And while there is obviously a complex, multilayered labelling system and varying levels of “WTF was I thinking?” for anyone who has ever had an awful date, I will admit that in this case, we could tag it as: I must have been smoking hectic crack and even then it’s no excuse.
While I could write a book about WDE, as we will affectionately name him, his many shortcomings and perplexing plethora of bad qualities, I will instead provide an outline. (You see, high school does come in useful!)
I. "Cheap" does not do justice to his level of stinginess.
a. While I’m a modern girl and like to pay my part, this guy took splitting the tab to new levels of nuclear fission. He once insisted I split a bill for two sodas (it was like 5 bucks). He also refused to pay for snacks at the movies even though I’d paid for the tickets, because they ‘work out as more expensive.’
b. Once bumped into him and his old school Italian fam in a pizza joint and they invited me to eat with them. At the end of the meal, I grabbed my wallet, as was the Custom of the County with WDE, and tried to pay. I was immediately accosted by shouts of disgust as to how I could even conceive of paying. I couldn’t help but say “Oh, don’t worry. With WDE, I’m used to paying.” I suddenly felt a sharp kick under the table while the family proceeded to rip him a new one for being so miserly. His defence: “I’m for Women’s Lib.” Paaa-lease.
II. He was a Shit Stirrer – Literally.
a. On the few WDEs we had, his conversation moved around his bowel movements like food through an intestine. The first time he brought me to dinner he said “I didn’t eat all day cause I was worried I’d let one rip in front of you.” FYI Guy: you might as well have.
b. On another occasion he left in the middle of a movie with no explanation. He later said “Sorry, I had to leave. I was shitting in my pants.”
III. Freakfest
a. A horror buff, he took me with a group of friends (think Big Bang Theory cast) to a Halloween haunted hayride, where he a) forbade me from hiding behind him in the haunted house, pushing me out in front of the abundance of scary ghouls lurking behind every corner; and b) spent the night with his hobbit-like best friend acting out scenes from superfreaky sci fi movies that I’d never even heard of .
IV. A Christmas Story
a. This gets a category of its own. For Christmas he gave me a fairy night light (from Hallmark cards or the like). At first I thought it was thoughtful (I’m scared of the dark) until he a) told me he picked a fairy because I have pointy ears; b) insisted several times that it was real porcelain and very expensive; c) I later found the price tag: $19.99.
Now comes the part where I tell you how I dumped his cheap, bad date ass! Except…erm…he dumped ME! I knew something was wrong when, on something like our fourth and final date, he took me to lunch and PAID. He then tried to “let me down gently” by saying that while I was awesome, gorgeous and unbelievably fun (hey, I'm for Ad-Lib), he needed to focus on his career and move to California to pursue it. I later discovered he never moved, so it was just an excuse! If only he knew what a favor he did me, and how much my friends and I laughed when I told them that he opted out! Oh WDE! May you find your equally WDE soulmate! And thank you for giving me something to write (and laugh) about!
Now come on, come on! Tell me yours!
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I don't think I can top yours, but I would rather have a "Worst Date Ever" than a "Worst Boyfriend of 3 Years Ever." Besides the fact that he was an immature boy, he was also cheap as hell. We would have to go dutch on eeeeeeverything, which I didn't mind to do but it would come to a point where the check would come and I would end up paying for the whole thing. So you'd think that after paying so many times for this loser that on a day like Valentine's Day you'd get something nice, something like chocolate, dinner, or something of that sort. I got flowers. And yea, you might may "Um flowers are nice, why are you complaining?" but these flowers were the flowers his dad bought for his mom. He took a few out of the vase and handed them to me. No wrapping, no card, no nothing. How that relationship continued still boggles my mind.
ReplyDeleteOne of my friends was waiting for her date to pick her up from her house and she was on the phone with him indicating which house she lives at since he wasn't from the neighborhood. She was telling him "The house with the light on" etc, and he said "Ok found it, I'm outside." She goes outside and doesn't see him there so she tells him "I don't see you outside, I only see a hearse. Where are you?" Yes ladies and gentleman, that was her date. In the hearse. Ready to go on a date. She walked back into the house, said she didn't feel well and couldn't hang out that night. Just because you work at a funeral home doesn't mean it's cool to pick up people in your work vehicle. He still is trying to figure out why she didn't want to go out with him. To be honest, I would have been curious to know if there was a body in the back.
I'm sitting here scouring my memories for the most dreadful date I've ever had to undergo, and I must say I'm having trouble. Turns out, Im REALLY good at dating. Here is how I prep for a typical date:
ReplyDeleteWe've established enough mutual interest for me to muster up the balls to inquire if you would like to hang out. You agree.
Step 1: FAREEAAAK OOUUUT. Oh no! Now what?!?! I need to figure something out QUICK!
Step 2: Buy an issue of Maxim. Frantically flip through the pages and find out EXACTLY what girls like. Maxim is gospel when it comes to that kinda stuff.
Step 3: Wardrobe refresh. You don't want to be seen wearing the same threads as last time.
My current style: Jersey Shore. I'll pick up a new Ed Hardy tee, some more self tanner, and a few bottles of travel axe body spray(comes in handy day of).
Step 4: Find out what's hot. I need to take my date to the flyest spots. Good thing I pay attention to those pre-previews pre-trivia ads when I go to the movies.
Step 5: Text her a vague/mysterious question that insinuates we're doing something crazy on our date! Ex: "How many scoops? :P" (emoticon is clutch)
Step 6: Clean my apt, make my bed, scatter potpourri all around, que up my playlist of yanni, enya, and enigma, and finally, stock the fridge with Zima and Smirnoff Ices'... all 'just incase' the date comes back to my place(which it will).
Step 7: Make it all happen. Now, I can't divulge how the actual date goes down. Gotta leave something to the ladies imaginations ;)
(send me an email if you're interested)
We don't do a lot of dating here in Great Britain. The typical scenario tends to be
ReplyDeletea) go out with your friends and drink enormous amounts of alcohol in a loud, crowded bar
b) go to a tacky nightclub and drink more
c) get off with a girl who's name you didn't quite catch
d) meet up with her sober and realise you have absolutely nothing in common.
However, when I lived in Vietnam, I finally sampled the world of dating for the first time. Generally these dates were a lot of fun, and a huge ego boost. Girls would often give me their numbers and suggest going out for a coffee. Frequently they'd be young, ridiculously pretty and charming. I'd pinch myself often to check it was really happening.
But on one occasion I got a phone number from the accupunturist's assistant (sounds like a title for a novel), which was bizarre as she never made eye contact when she was preparing me for the accupunturist, a chain-smoking wrinkled old sadist, who reminded me of Jabba the Hut. Another guy who worked there spoke a tiny amount of English - he gave me the assistant's number and told me to go out with her.
Well, she was lovely-looking, and the fact that she'd never looked at me or spoken to me was neither here nor there. I texted her and arranged a date.
She came into the cafe and sat opposite me, looking stunning. She smiled shyly. I asked her how she was, in nice slow, clear English-teacher English. No reply. I asked her what she wanted to drink. No reply. I asked her if she spoke English. Nothing. And so it went on. After an exasperating half an hour of one-sided conversation, she mimed that I should write messages on my phone. So I wrote: 'Can you hear me?' I seriously thought she must be a deaf mute! Turned out she could hear, and could write a little English, so that's how we communicated: writing in text editor and showing each other the screen of our phones. She really wasn't keen on speaking.
Not the most fulfilling of dates. Though she did send me a nice message a day or two later, saying how happy she was that I'd met her and taught her a little English.
So that's I've been doing wrong? My dating convos always revolve around the weird stuff that plopped out of my butt the night before like, "I don't remember eating ANYTHING that looked like that". Sometimes it comes out sideways or has a weird color etc. This one time it was perfectly shaped like a blooming onion from outback.
ReplyDeleteThe girls all laughed so I thought they were digging it and I kept going, but guess that was just nervous, get me the hell out of here laughter.
So there was this one girl who actually liked hearing about my poo and Randy Marsh(southpark) episode that kept me home from work - I took a picture/video of that one and its called "horse shoe". Unfortunately she wasn't crazy about my scheme of using 30 separate $1 transactions to fill up my car at the gas station. I tried explaining that everytime I use my wachovia card they transfer a dollar into my "way 2 save" account and that earns 5% interest, but she just didn't see the brilliance behind my logic.
Finally another didn't seem to care about those things, maybe cause she was hammered out of her mind, but when I took her home and showed her my Thundercats and Ninja Turtle collection, she freaked out, threw up and bailed.
Oh well...
I actually went international to experience my WDE. Maybe it too much to expect that when I finally succumbed to Rafael's barrage of emails that all started and ended with "You should come to Milan for a weekend! I will take care of you. You will just relax!" that I wouldn't actually be more stressed when I left.
ReplyDeleteOK, so maybe it was my own fault for flying to another country (and possibly the ugliest city I've been to) for a date, but sometimes you just have to see what might happen. Oh, and all my friends who encouraged me, did we have a laugh afterwards.
I realize it's not fair for us women to expect men to read our minds, so I tried to do my bit, such as just after I was leapt upon and sucked into a particularly aggressive make-out session. "Rafael," I said gently as I struggled out of the liplock to wipe myself down, "My face should not be wet up to my eye."
The rest of the weekend consisted of constant reminders that his cleaning woman had just come so I was to be very careful in the bathroom not to mess it up. Have you ever tried to shower in a curtainless and doorless shower without getting a drop of water anywhere? He also promised to make me a risotto with asparagus and wild mushrooms. This turned out to be spaghetti with tomato sauce and tuna from a can, rushed onto the table so he could watch a car race. At least I'd bought a People magazine.
Finally we went out to dinner, after which he complained to the management about noisy fellow diners, and I paid the bill. He later raved about the best gelato in the world, so we went to get a couple of cones, and when they were handed to us, he turned to me and said "They're 2.50 each. Oh, and do you have an extra euro for me? I'm short." He then drove me all the way to the airport bus stop. He did have some nice and fun friends, though, I'll give him that.
@ECOL: Sounds like a dream (I love Zima!). I think you have my email address, wink wink.