I went to one of the larger Universities in Los Angeles and there were a few local bars in the area. I frequented one of them the most, as it had a decent bar set up with areas for my friends and I could dance. It was the place all your friends went to and you were always guaranteed to have a good time. Oh, and it had an amazing two dollar pint night/four dollar liter night.
I had broken up with a boyfriend that summer (by this time, maybe two months prior) and was on the prowl. My priority at this time was to just have fun and that night was going pretty well. Dancing and drinks later, this decent looking guy came up to me. He had said that he left the bar with his friends and saw me enter, only to wait in line and come back in to be able to talk to me. Flattering line, right? The guy was clearly drunk but I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, because really what did I have to lose, and I gave him my phone number.
Normal Date #1: After he had called me, the first date we planned on was a hiking date in Runyan Canyon. I enjoy doing outdoorsy activities and was pleased I had met someone that had a common interest. All in all, the date ended well and I was hoping I would get a second.
Disaster Date #2: Let me start by saying that I am not a shallow person. Physical attraction is important to me, but coupled with that has to come other good attributes. This guy was cute, not a stud, but with the type of person he is… I wouldn’t be surprised if he dies alone. Or gets divorced a few times before he seeks some sort of therapy and heals his disgusting personality. Maybe you will agree with me…
We had a plan to go to Skybar on Sunset Boulevard. I dressed nicely and was pleased with the way he appeared; another plus as a man – he has to be a good dresser for appropriate situations. He drove a nice car, had a nice smile… how bad could it be, right?
Let me just side note for a second and say that no matter how nice you think the guy, always be prepared for the worst and take the necessary precautions. In this case, my roommate (I am going to call her Jamie) gave me her pepper spray. Thank God.
My date, let us call him Andy, opened my car door for me, engaged in good conversation on the way, and was overall doing pretty well as far as dating goes. Skybar was very nice. We sat down right away outside and got a nice view of the city. The area has these beds and lounging benches that have really nice upholstery on them. Sign number one my date may not be what I had thought: Andy sat Indian style with his feet on the nice, expensive fabric to face me. Everyone was looking. Not only was his positioning awkward, as this man was hunched over balancing on a bench, but it was just so rude! The waitress was not happy and asked him to not put his shoes on the bench, a request he flat out ignored. I looked past this and tried to enjoy myself.
The waitress came back with drink menus and handed one to each of us. I hadn’t even the chance to hold the menu more than a few seconds when Andy snatched it from my hand…
Andy: “I am going to order for you.”
Me: “Excuse me, but I would rather order for myself.”
Andy: “I said I am ordering for you.”
Note, I did not like the way he is talking to me and I have allergies to certain types of alcohol…
*Awkward silence. Waitress comes back*
Andy: “We will have… blah blah blah.”
The drinks came and mine was some purple martini looking thing (strike one, I dont like martinis. I am a jack and coke kind of girl). I took a sip and it didn’t taste half bad. I took another and started feeling an uncomfortable feeling I have had before. So I asked the waitress what was in my drink. She told me. I turned to Andy, saying “This is why I wanted to order my own drink. I am allergic to champagne.” Turned back to waitress and ordered a Jack and coke with a big glass of water. Andy was not even phased by what just happened and thought everything was cool.. it was not.
At this point, I had to excuse myself to the bathroom. I texted my roommates and best friend, who were at the local bar I described earlier, and told them I may need saving. They were on standby. My other friend happened to be in the area and I told her she may have to come get me. She was also on standby.
The date proceeded…
Andy had just quit smoking cigarettes. Being an outside bar, people were smoking outside – which prompted him to mention he had just quit smoking every time someone lit up. After hearing it for what seemed the 20th time, it was beginning to get old. At one point the conversation turned to the topic of pot.
Andy: “I just quit smoking. It is really hard to be around cigarettes. Have you ever smoked pot?”
Me: “Um…”
Andy: “You know what feels really good when you are high?”
Me:” What?”
Andy: “Sex.”…. The next part of this he said with a straight face and was dead serious. “We should go get high and have sex.”
Me: “Excuse me I need to go to the bathroom…”
I began to call and text my friends SOSes in hopes I would be rescued. Two of my girls are at the local bar still and suggested I just come home and hang out with them. Sounds like a plan, I thought. I walked back and mentioned it to Andy. He said that sounded all right and asked for the check. In the meantime, he felt compelled to keep inching closer to me, probably because he thought I was going to kiss him which was not at all going to happen. When it was obvious I was uncomfortable, Andy thought telling me a story would ease the tension. He picked the wrong story… (I will try my best to retell it as accurately as possible)
Andy: “Want to hear a funny story?”
Me: What else were we gonna do? “Sure. Let’s hear it.”
(By the way, he had just moved to LA from Miami… this will be important now and a little later.)
Andy: “My dad was gone one weekend from our apartment so I decided to have my best friend over and these two girls. Don’t worry I wasn’t hooking up with them or anything. We got really drunk and were in the jacuzzi and then decided it was time to move things inside. So I take one of the girls into my Dad’s room, don’t worry we weren’t hooking up or anything, and my Dad comes home and starts yelling at me. So my friend offered to drive her home and on the ride back she gave him a blow job. But the funny thing is she thought he was me so I was supposed to get the blow job!”
Me: *stunned expression* “WHAT?! You just told someone you are on a date with that story? What is wrong with you?!
”
Andy: “Nothing! It’s funny. All my friends thought it was funny.”
Me: “Please take me home. I would like to go home.”
I began texting my friends that I was coming home. I texted my other friend who is nearby that she needed to come get me. Unfortunately, the club she was at boxed her car in and she couldn’t leave. I decided to risk it and just have Andy take me home.
Standing at the Valet, waiting for his car to come, Andy decided to make a move on me. I was leaning against the glass walls of the hotel entrance when he approached me. I saw him go for the move and I tilted my head so he would get my cheek.
Maybe it was because I moved my head. Maybe it was because he thought it would be sexy. Maybe Andy is just plain old creepy. Instead of kissing my cheek, he licked me. He didn’t just graze my face with the tip of his tongue or anything. He licked my face like a puppy licks you when its happy to see you. The coy look he had on his face afterward made me assume he probably thought I would enjoy that. What was even worse was that I could hear people around me gasping. Who licks someone on a date? Andy, that’s who. I was mortified and just said again “take me home” as I bolted to his car.
On the ride home, I was silent. I think at this point he knew I was annoyed. Andy was new to LA so he was taking me home in an odd route. And then I got why… he was stopping at his house. Seeing that his roommates were home, and I really needed to pee, I told him I wanted to use his bathroom and then we were immeadiatly leaving. His room was empty except for a few jumbled things in a corner, which confused me. Then again, he had just moved here. I went into his bathroom and spent a long time in there because I called my friends at the bar, giving them a little recap and saying I’d be there soon. This gave Andy enough time to prepare his plan of attack…I think the fact I stepped into his house gave him some hope, but man, this guy was pathetic!
I opened the door and there was Andy. He had inflated his inflatable bed and was laying on it holding two glasses of wine with this “come hither” look. Typing this now, I am chuckling to myself. However, at the time, it was not funny. I just stared at him, walked out of his room and waited outside till he stopped his charades. Andy came outside, didn’t say anything, and we walked to the car.
The minute I got in the car, I grabbed Jamie’s pepper spray and put it by my side. The whole ride home, Andy thought he would try to kiss me everytime we hit a red light. I decided I was going to reject him every time. Fail Andy, Fail.
When we got back remotely close to the bar where my friends were, I took off out of the car at a red light and walked the rest of the way to get away from him. I entered the bar and don’t see him. My friends rejoiced that I was alive and asked me about all the details. Before I could start, Andy showed up. Not only did he not get any of my signals that I didn’t want to be around him, he followed me around like a puppy until my guy friends had to ask him to go away. Angry and hurt, Andy left the bar.
I am sure you think I was in the clear at this point in time. Nope. This date from hell would not give up without a last hurrah. About an hour went by and I was having fun with my friends. On my way home, I have to pass Inn N Out where Andy was waiting for me. As I walked in front of the patio area, he came out of nowhere and threw his Sprite at me, sending the soda all over my legs, and ran away. Just…started running to his car. At this point in time, I just started laughing. I mean, how could I not?
As most MVWD’s go, I met A through a popular dating site. I was a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, first-year university student who was relatively sheltered and very naïve as a result. After a few messages back and forth, I decided to meet A in person and agreed on a meeting spot near his house. The plan was to meet then decide on an ultimate destination for drinks from there.
When I arrived at the agreed-upon meeting place however, A asked could we simply have drinks at the bar under his condo building. I couldn’t think of any reason why not, so followed him inside the cozy bar. Inside we made small talk over the course of a couple drinks. Though he seemed unimpressive, A seemed a decent and polite guy overall and I was open-minded. I found it uncomfortable and bizarre though when during the course of conversation he asked if I was a virgin. Intimidated, I casually lied ‘no,’ to which he replied ‘oh good.’ By this point I was a little tipsy from the drinks so when A later invited me up to his place for a movie, I agreed.
A refused to turn on any lights in his apartment but the hallway light streaming through the open door as we entered revealed a tidy and elegantly-decorated place. The reason for A’s whispering became immediately clear though when he pointed out the door to his mother’s room down the hall. Since his mother was sleeping, rather than watch the movie in the living room as I had anticipated, A led me to his own bedroom.
While he launched himself onto the nearest side of his bed, I was faced with the daunting task of either climbing over A to reach the other side of the bed, or scaling the pile of dirty laundry nearly as tall as myself. Hesitantly, I opted for the former and propped myself up on the other side of A, facing the small tv screen at the side of his bed. Without inviting any input from me, A slid in ‘his favourite movie,’ a black-and-white martial arts movie. Whatever, I thought. I’ll stay a little longer just to be polite, then make the excuse I have to head home for an early morning.
The credits were still rolling when A made his intentions clear. Feeling pressured and a little looser from the alcohol, I played along for a few moments but panicked as he continued to escalate his advances. Mumbling some excuse, I abruptly sat up and made my way across the bed towards the door. A blocked my exit, but I bolted past him, over his dirty laundry, and out his bedroom. He was right on my heels, pants down, begging me to stay, me stumbling over excuses as to my sudden departure as I tried to outrun him down the stairwell and outside the building. Finally I burst through the main floor door to outside, leaving A behind – still with his pants down, fully exposed.
After taking a few moments to compose myself in my (locked) car, I took off. My naïve brain was slow to process but I finally put the pieces of the puzzle together and realised this man, at nearly 30, had not yet left home, had no car and no license, no ambitious career, and no post-secondary education.
The icing on the cake is when a year later I mistakenly dialed A’s number when I intended to call a friend by the same name. When he answered I did not immediately recognize his voice and indicated I must have the wrong number. He asked who I was so I politely provided my first name. It finally dawned on me who he was when his dopey-voiced response was ‘oh, well do you want to hook up?’ It was clear he had no idea who I was. I immediately hung up and deleted his number. I still laugh at how this momma’s boy set me up and how naïve and dumb I was to fall for it all.
I met this guy through a dating site and in his profile it said he was 35 (at the time I was 25). I had just moved to the city and was excited to meet people. He was from Australia and he looked very attractive in his photos. We emailed each other for about a week before deciding to meet up. He worked in fashion and it was a busy time for them so we just decided on coffee.
He told me to meet him in front of his job. As I walked up I saw a guy there. He looked vaguely familiar. I thought this cannot be him. This guy had a head FULL of grey hair; the guy online had dark hair. Ok, whatever, it’s distinguished like Anderson Cooper. I got closer and, wow, this guy was ABSOLUTELY NOT 35. His profile photos were at least ten years old if they were a day. He saw me and smiled - I then had a flashback and noticed something else: he was not smiling in any of his photos and now I knew why. Eek. I thought to myself, well, it’s just coffee and he may be a great guy. This is a new me and I’m not going to be shallow about this.
So we got coffee and were having pretty great conversation. I was thinking, I can look past this, I really can. Then he reached over, took my hand, and started talking about marriage. Huh? He wasn’t specifically talking marriage to me, just marriage in general – but on a first date it’s still a weird subject. I wanted to get up and leave but, damn my good manners, I stayed. Thank goodness this was only coffee and he was on a break from work, which he had to get back to.
We talked a few more times on the phone; he still kept bringing up marriage and trying to get me to come to his house. It slowly started to dawn on me that he probably needed a green card.
My Very Worst Date didn’t actually seem absolutely bad until after the fact – but it certainly didn’t go that well. I met a guy at a bar in college and we really hit it off. I gave him my number and he called me later that week asking me to dinner.
He informed me that though his real name was Justin, he actually preferred to be called “Lucky” since he was redheaded and Irish. Also this was his “club” name that everyone else knew him by. I thought it was a little silly for someone who was 24 years old but I shrugged it off. He then proceeded to tell me about how much he loved techno and how the only thing he looked forward to all year was going to Burning Man. He wasn’t in school and was working in catering. He quickly rebounded this by stating that he had been doing bigger and better things elsewhere, but had returned to the small town because his mother was suffering from breast cancer. He said he had to spend a lot of his time taking her to doctor’s appointments and helping her out around the house. I thought it was admirable he had made such sacrifices for his family.
After dinner he suggested going to my place since he lived with his mom and didn’t have a car. I reluctantly agreed and we popped in a movie. He didn’t waste any time with his advances as he was obviously not interested in the movie. He kissed me and did the much dreaded tongue to the back of my throat. After that I knew for certain I did not have an interest in this guy.
As it got later and the movie ended, Lucky asked if he could spend the night. I gave him the sideways glance and he told me he really didn’t want to try anything and that he had work early in the morning. For whatever reason I agreed and we both awkwardly slept in the same bed. Of course, he tried something from time to time, but strangely enough, this little orphan kitten I had taken in a few days prior kept him from making his move. Every time he tried something the kitten would playfully jump on his head and simply not leave him alone.
The next morning I woke up to him calling his work to say that he wouldn’t be coming in because he felt unwell. He then gave me the eye and I told him I thought it was time for him to leave. He did so a little bitterly and neither one of us called the other again.
A few weeks later my friend met his younger brother at a bar and, having heard my stories, asked how his mother was doing. He looked at her baffled, saying that she was fine and wondered why she had asked. She told him she had heard she’d been diagnosed with cancer – and to our horror, he revealed their mother never had cancer. Lucky had moved back home because he ran out of money and needed a place to stay.
My Very Worst Date took place when I was a junior in college, home in Philadelphia on winter break. I was on the rowing team at a private school and took only four classes a semester, but took winter and summer courses at my local college to transfer over. This particular winter break I took a course at the local campus for a state college. Each class was five hours long with a half hour break in the middle. During the break in my first class, while getting coffee, I met a foreign student from Belarus who was taking another class. He was well-dressed, tall and dark, with a Belarusian accent, and even though I wasn’t interested in dating at the time he was nice to talk to during breaks. We met up every day during our breaks and got coffee together.
On the seventh day of classes during break, he asked me out on a date. I explained that I wasn’t necessarily looking to date anyone, especially since I would be returning to my college in a month. He looked dejected, and told me that he was lonely living in the United States and didn’t have any friends here. Feeling bad, I agreed to go to dinner and a movie in the city with him. He didn’t have a car, so he asked that I pick him up the next evening at his apartment and gave me the address.
His apartment ended up being in a bad area of North Philadelphia, and knowing the area I felt incredibly unsafe waiting the forty minutes it took him to get ready. Even though this wasn’t a date, I had dressed nicely with dark jeans and a fitted top. He, on the other hand, over-dressed with a suit and tie; clearly there was a breach in customs as to what one should wear to dinner and the movies.
When he got into my car, a five-year-old Jeep, he immediately started running his hands over the console and seats, telling me that I must be rich to have afforded the car. While I drove towards a theater in the city, he continued to talk about money and how Americans don’t spend their money wisely. He pointed out my jewelry, my shoes, and my purse explaining that I wasted money that should have gone towards my family. I was never really one for material things, so I again brushed this off as cultural differences.
When we got to the movie theater parking lot, he told me that he didn’t want to see a movie or have dinner and instead wanted me to give him a driving tour of Philadelphia. I took him along Boathouse Row (one of my favorite places) and stopped to show him some of the statues along the Schuylkill River. When I turned off my car, he quickly leaned in and tried to kiss me. I stopped him, and he blatantly joked that he thought we were stopping to make out “like in the movies”. I’m not sure at this point why I continued to think that he simply didn’t know American customs, but I knew that I needed to cut the night short.
I drove him through downtown Philadelphia and down to South Street, where he asked to stop for coffee. While walking along South Street with our coffee he suddenly said that he was surprised that I had said no to dating him because in Belarus he had dated women much hotter than I was. I almost spit out my coffee as he continued to talk about how hot the women in Belarus were (“they are all models”) and how plain American women were in comparison. “You may be beautiful by American standards,” he said, “but you would not be able to find a husband in Belarus.” Clearly, I was ready to go home now.
We got to my car and I started the drive back to his apartment. Seeing a billboard for a housing development, he asked me about my parents’ house and how big it was. He clucked his tongue when I told him, again saying that Americans were wasteful and that people in Belarus only need small apartments. Then came the biggest shock of the night: he asked me if I would be interested in getting married so that he could stay in the United States after he finished with school. I sped the entire way back to his place.
When I finally got to his apartment and stopped my car, he leaned over again to try to kiss me. I pushed him away, and he got out of my car, started walking away, then turned and tapped on my car window. I opened it, and he said, “I don’t really have a lot of furniture, but I do have an air mattress that we can sleep on if you want to come have sex.” Needless to say, I didn’t take him up on the offer and spent the rest of the winter break avoiding him. He continued to call my phone even after I returned to college until my friend answered and told him that I had died. Without missing a beat, he asked her out.
