Dr. No

My Very Worst Date was with a seemingly cute doctor I met online. We met for drinks and in the beginning he was quite charming, if a little quirky.  It wasn’t until he stood up that I realized he was fairly short. But we were having fun and at some point in the conversation he began holding my hand and invited me back to his place for a drink. Against my better judgment I went, debating if he was a bizarre, balding troll or a witty, adorable gem? At his apartment he made me a very potent orange liqueur drink and suggested we sit on his balcony, where his guitar was casually resting. He serenaded me with a few cheesy songs while I stifled my laughter and orange fizz came out my nose. He took this as a good sign and began kissing me. Within seconds he had thrown me on his bed, torn off my shirt, and was very aggressively attacking me in what he believed was a sexy way.

The alcohol had taken its toll and I was slow to react, but finally said I was not going to have sex with him. At that point he threw me out, shirt in hand, and did not walk me out or help me find a taxi. I was up in arms and cursing for blocks. The next day I realized my favorite bangle was lost in the mayhem so I emailed him and asked if I could have it back. He did not respond. Six months later I saw him walking down the street, but I pretended like I didn’t recognize him. That night he emailed me and said, “I know you saw me on the street. Would you still like your bracelet back?  I felt sort of weird the night we hung out. You seemed into me but also weirded out by me. I was uncomfortable having you at my apartment. I hope there are no hard feelings.”  All of which is code for, “I was pissed off you did not want to sleep with me after I sang to you, got you drunk and roughed you up. That is my MO and I can’t believe it didn’t work. You must be a lesbian.” A few days later the bracelet was returned unharmed in a true triumph for accessory lovers everywhere.