MVWD was also my first ever date – I was 15, never been kissed, slightly dorky and, frankly, surprised that someone would ever want to go on a date with me. And he was 18 (dear me!).

To be fair, the date was not only bad because of him, I contributed to it, too. But what a disaster.

He took me to McDonald’s, which, in hindsight, should have been a huge red flag. Instead, I stood awkwardly in line with him, trying to decide what to get. There is really nothing on the menu at McDonald’s that is not going to make me look like a complete tool, though. When it was finally our turn, he told me to order first. What a catch, I thought. He’s a gentleman! (How wrong I was).

Unfortunately, this was in France, and I had never been in a French McDonald’s. I had no clue that in French, they call burgers “sandwiches.” So when the lady behind the counter asked me what sandwich I wanted, I freaked out, and said “what?” She repeated her question, to which I flippantly said “Tuna?”

My date thought this was the funniest thing, and (luckily) he thought I had done this on purpose because I was edgy and different. Asking for a tuna sandwich at McDonald’s. What a crazy gal.

The lady behind the counter became quite cross with me, so I just blurted out “Big Mac” to get out of the situation. I turned to my date, and asked him; “What are you having?”

“Oh, nothing. I am not eating.”

This, of course, made me very uncomfortable. We proceeded to sit at a table where he WATCHED ME EAT. Dainty, little, 15 year-old me trying to eat a burger and fries in front of my date? I did not appreciate. It took even longer in an effort to look half decent; all the while he did not say much, just sat there watching. All my attempts at offering him some of my food were declined.

When I finished, he proclaimed; “Well, that made me hungry!” and went to line up again. He ordered himself a Big Mac as well, came back, unwrapped a straw, jammed it in his burger, and tried to suck the burger through his straw. After failing miserably, he laughed awkwardly, then ate his meal while I had to watch him.

Needless to say, it was the most uncomfortable date I had ever been on (since it was my first) but I haven’t been able to top it since, either.

Later, I found out that he did it this way because his father employed him, and he charged the meals to the company credit card. If he ordered one meal, waited until I ate it, then ordered another, his dad might believe that he was just really hungry, and needed two lunches that day. If he had ordered them at the same time, he would have had to pay for the date…

When I was in the military, I met a guy in a port call at a club. We really hit it off that night. When I was back out to sea a few days later, he found my email address in the ship’s database, and started writing me. We talked for about a month via email, and he gave me the impression that he might want to date me. As soon as I mentioned this concept, he changed his tone. The next port call was coming up. I should have listened to my instinct. I agreed to go on a date even tough I could tell he wanted something impersonal.

I checked into my hotel room, got dressed to the nines, and waited on time in front of the club for him to show up. Time was rolling by, and I started to feel like an idiot standing out there by myself. An hour passed, and the guy still had not shown up. I finally gave up and went back to my hotel room deflated. I came out of the elevator, and looked out the long picture window lining the second floor where my room is. I noticed a line of guys walking up the sidewalk. All of them were stone cold drunk and stumbling. They stood in front of the club for two seconds, and just left.

When my ship left port a few days later, the guy wrote me wondering where I had been. Apparently he spent two hours beforehand making sure to get as drunk as possible with his friends, and then said to himself, “Screw it. I’ll bring my boys with me on my date.” What a waste of time. I would have appreciated it if he had just told me that he didn’t care about me.

My Very Worst Date was a string of two dates. Safe to say, I don’t learn my lesson easily.

The guy was someone I met online. He was very persistent in his attempt to get me to go on a date with him, despite my better judgement. Nothing about him matched any of the things that I was looking for in a partner and had written about openly on my profile. He had toured with the Grateful Dead for a few years and somehow thought the fact that I had dreads made us the ultimate match. Anyways, back to business.

Our first date was to a Grateful Dead hole in the wall bar about two hours north of where we lived. I’m not much of a drinker and was totally out of my element. I quickly learned that he was quite the drinker and felt right at home, even asking a random lady if we could “crash” at her place that night. Instead, he decided it was good judgment to take his open container with him in the truck and drive back home. Not the worst date ever, but I should have learned my lesson.

The second date was to a restaurant downtown that happened to be my favorite place to eat. We were sitting there and he was smirking at me. He then commented that I wasn’t anything special and that he wasn’t sure why he was there with me. I got up to use the restroom and compose myself and when I came back, he was gone. As in, I had no ride home, was five miles from my house, in new sandals that had worn a blister on my foot, and with a cell phone that was almost dead.

I called a friend and got a ride home only to receive a text from my date about half an hour later asking if he could give me a ride home. He proceeded to harass me for the next few weeks, even bringing over a bicycle one night that he had found at a garage sale.

He sent me a message on Facebook over a year and a half later, telling me that he had “finished himself off” to the image of me four times in one day. Safe to say, I blocked him.

Before I start this MVWD, let me lay a little groundwork for you. Shortly before all this happened, when I was young and naive, I was in a moped accident. It could have been really nasty but, through sheer luck and timing, I managed to just avoid getting caught under the wheels of a semi that ran a red light. I like to think I’m usually a rational person but whenever something scary happens (death of a relative, car accident) I get this urge to shake things up a bit. So, as you can imagine, I was ready to do something exciting, something crazy. FIRST MISTAKE. I should have just shaved my head and called it a day.

I’d been taking the same bus to university every day for three years (hence the moped which spectacularly failed). About once a month or so I ‘d see the same guy, we would make small talk and mutually bitch about public transit. He was way older than me but with the mellow, surfer style guys have around here. I thought, mid 40s? Short, bald and fat but he makes me laugh and he seems like a nice guy. I’m not a sucker for looks (I mean, it helps but he’s so funny). I should ask him out, it’ll be fun! You only live once! The next time I saw him, I managed to get his card and told him I would call him. I felt SO smooth and he looked like someone hit him with a bat. That should have been my first warning.

So, we met at a very nice restaurant near to where I live. Perfect because he works in the wine business and was going to teach me all about wine on our very first date. Which, of course, would involve drinking a lot of wine and then I’d be able to just walk home. When I got there, he had already been drinking and was a little flushed in the face. That’s cool, I thought, I like to have a glass after work too. The first thing he did was ask me how old I am and demand to see my ID. I do look a lot younger than I am and this is a constant source of irritation for me. But hey, I thought, he couldn’t know that and he had a right to make sure I’m over 21. I mean, the waitress could have done it just as easily but whatever.

I hand my ID over with a very sour look on my face – which he noticed only enough to tell me stop pouting. He studied it fuzzily, moving his lips while he reckoned up the years until I just blurted out “XX, I’m XX years old, ok?” When he gave it back to me he grabbed my hand (still awkwardly clutching the ID) and kissed it. A little aggressive but that’s fun, right? I laughed and tried to take my hand away and he… wouldn’t let go. He had my hand in a death grip and was staring into my eyes like he was trying to burrow right into my soul. Jesus, ok, that’s a little much. He started to ramble about how amazed he was that I had actually called him and that he couldn’t believe I would be interested in a guy like him. By some miracle, the waitress showed up and broke up the orgy of awkwardness that was building.

After ordering he switched back to being the funny, cute guy I met on the bus. He complained a lot, didn’t teach me much about wine but it was all right. We drank quite a bit, talked, and flirted. As he got progressively drunker he began sprinkling in endearments that I, personally, find incredibly demeaning. Stuff like “sweetie/honey/girl/baby.” I told him I wasn’t really into the cutesy nicknames, to which he whined “Oh, baby, don’t be like that” as if I was his long standing girlfriend who was being amusingly unreasonable.

I decided that was enough wine for both of us and I was ready to go home. He insisted on walking me back and because I was drunk and about to move in a few days (another post-accident shakeup) I relented. When we stopped at a crosswalk he turned to me, with that same intense look in his eyes and cupped (read: grabbed) both my cheeks in his hands. I was like, whoa, is he trying to headbutt me or what? when he went in for the kill. The most distinct thing I remember is “that… that CAN’T be his tongue! There is no way a tongue that size could fit into a normal human mouth…” It basically felt like I was trying to spit out a giant, soft, sloppy, warm snake that did not want to leave. I laughed, pushed him away and told him it was our first date and he was moving a little fast. He agreed, drunkenly, and tried to kiss me again…while I was still furiously trying to wipe the saliva off my face from our first bout. I managed to hold him off until we got back to my place and I took my leave. Not before he made an incredibly creepy comment about sleeping it off in my bushes, of course.

That was when the genuinely bad decisions started. Yes, that should have been the end of it but I was possessed of 1) resounding naivety and 2) the urge to experience life to the fullest. Like an idiot. He texted me the next day, all jokes and apologies about the night before, he wasn’t usually like that, I must think he’s an old perv, etc. He told me he doesn’t usually drink like that; I accepted that explanation and laughed it off because I had been pretty drunk, too. We talked on and off for a few weeks since I was busy with the move, school and work. At first he was very charming, concerned about my day and school. Over time he either became more and more condescending (telling me I was ‘adorable’ when he called and woke me up at 6am with no apology) or I just noticed it more. I decided I would give him one more chance and if it wasn’t working out I would just tell him we were incompatible. After all, what if he was a really great guy and I wasn’t giving him a fair chance? We’d only been on one date, after all. Maybe he was horrible at talking on the phone.

For our second date he told me he was going to make me a picnic with margaritas. We were meeting at 3:00 pm but I didn’t have work or school the next day, so what the hell? Sounded like fun. A homemade picnic is very romantic. When I showed up, again, he’d already been drinking. In fact, it was our ‘margaritas’ he was drinking: out of a Gatorade bottle, on the sidewalk, at 3:00 in the afternoon. My roommate and I dubbed them ‘Gatoritas’ because they were nothing more than 50% Gatorade and 50% tequila.

Our picnic was a single tub of (admittedly delicious) pasta salad. The park has a spectacular view but at that time of year it’s basically a dirt lot. He had forgotten to bring a blanket. So, we sat in the dirt and the ants, eating pasta salad and (at least in his case) drinking Gatoritas. The whole time he was dropping inappropriately frequent and intense compliments; the only response I had was “thank you.” His response: “No, THANK YOU.” And this didn’t happen once or twice, it was several times in an hour. It started to get out of hand as he repeated himself over and over, telling me how amazing and smart and wonderful I was. I decided to leave.

I told him I wasn’t really comfortable with how fast he was going and that I was really more interested in a slow relationship. He hastily agreed to whatever I wanted because I was ‘a girl worth waiting for’. Then he tried to kiss me again. I could smell the tequila, which was not in the least charming. I told him I didn’t like public displays of affection which he agreed was fine before attacking my face again. In public. I told him I had boundaries. “I totally respect that, I respect that you have boundaries. However you want to do this is fine by me,” he said, while hugging me extremely close and kissing my hair.

I admit, I didn’t really know what to do. I was young, I had made an effort my entire life to avoid public scenes. I just started making my way to the bus stop with this drunk man-baby following behind me, whining for another kiss. Full on whining, telling me a busy intersection wasn’t a public venue and I should let him kiss me again. Grabbing my hand, stopping me, complimenting me and the whole time with the crazy eyes. It was the longest four blocks of my life. I knew if I could just get on the bus, I would be ok and I would never have to see him again.

The bus stop was fairly crowded and I thought I had reached salvation. Surely, with all these Chinese grandmas and high schoolers around he’d back off! The withering glares of the grandmas did nothing to deter him, though. He sat on the bench next to me and proceeded to kiss my hair and ear while I did my best to deflect him and ignore him. I desperately tried to engage him in conversation to keep his mouth busy but it always came back to “one more kiss, baby? Just one more kiss!” It was like something out of a hilarious sitcom montage of terrible dates and I just kept telling myself that until the bus came.

I left him, on the bench, sitting in a stupor at 4:00 pm and never spoke to him again. Luckily, I was never scared or threatened and now the whole thing just serves to win me MOST HORRIBLE DATE EVER drinking stories at bars.

In college one of my good guy friends had a roommate who really liked me. We were all in the same program and so were together a lot. C wasn’t particularly good looking and was very socially awkward. He used to follow me around all the time and make excuses to be wherever I was. It was more pathetic than creepy though. And he was always super nice to me and wanted to do things for me. I was chasing another guy at the time without too much success, so C’s attentions made me feel a little better. I let him buy me lunch a couple of times and we went skiing once. I felt like I should give him a chance because he was so nice. I kept thinking, “Okay, underneath all the awkwardness there’s probably a really great and fun guy.” But I never managed to really see a glimpse of that inner self I thought he must have. He was just really boring and awkward.

Finally it came time for the annual winter formal at our school. C asked me, and although I didn’t really want to go with him, I figured I would give him one last chance to show me something worth my time. I got all dolled up and looked really hot. We went with a group of friends. During the first slow song, C asked me to dance. That’s when I smelled it…yucky, filthy dried BO. He had gone to the gym right before the dance and not showered – just gotten into his tux (which I’m not sure was clean in the first place). Plus he kept trying to grab my ass. I was so disgusted but didn’t feel like I could just bail on him either. I suggested we dance to some fast songs (so we wouldn’t have to touch) but he didn’t want to. I refused to do another slow dance with him so he went and found some other girl who would. I spend the rest of the ball sitting down at our table, holding my breath when he passed by.

I recently signed up for a popular dating site; I’d received stellar reviews from a few friends, heard all the horror stories, and decided that my loneliness way outweighed my fear of meeting an axe murderer. I wasn’t totally there to find a significant other; I was in a new city and lacked cash, so I was on the lookout for friends too.

Over the next few days, I met and became friendly with a guy named Danny. He had asked about my bisexual status, seemed funny and charming, and was very sweet to me. We had fantastic chemistry online and I agreed to meet him. The day started off great enough; I headed to the train station. It didn’t show up for nearly thirty minutes, and we were supposed to meet at one. Keep this in mind.

When the train finally arrived, we stopped halfway to downtown (this is normally a forty minute commute, and I still needed to catch an additional bus). I texted Danny to let him know what was up. He never replied back. I got lost and finally found the bus, meanwhile shooting off several panicked texts to ask him for directions. He didn’t reply until I found the bus on accident: “What cute texts.”

Gut sinking, I decided to see this out. When I arrived, I was left sitting alone for half an hour before he arrived and said, “Man, doesn’t it suck when people are late?”

I apologized again, a little put off, and asked, “Didn’t you get my texts?”
“Yes.”

That was it. He said he had an awesome park nearby where we could sit and visit. I agreed, and we ended up walking for half an hour in circles before he finally led me to the park. A bit irritated and lost, we ended up sitting in the sun for three hours so he could “be a plant”. When I tried to suggest something else, he became aggressive, and since I wasn’t sure how to shake him to ask someone in the area for directions back to the bus stop, I sort of played along.

The kicker was when he pulled a children’s book of dragon poems from his backpack and read each one to me, pausing after each for five minutes to ask if I believed in dragons. Eventually, he led me to another park with the promise of food, though I was far from hungry- I was attempting to find the bus stop. He chattered about computer games the entire time; I mentioned a friend who had had an addiction and he grew dead silent before muttering, “You’re just an interferer.”

We finally found the place he’d mentioned. He talked about dragons again for a long time before asking, “What do you do?”
“Um, not much. I’m taking a break from school. I’ve been making wire wrapped jewelry to sell while I look for work.”
He gave me a look like I’d stabbed him and demanded, “Why would you do that? It’s so stupid!”
“I’ve had buyers.”
“They’re stupid, too, and I bet they’re always late!”

Thankfully, a friend called at that point and I made an excuse to head home. He led me on a goose chase for another half hour, in the sun, until I threatened to call the cops. I’m now sitting in bed with the worst sunburn I’ve ever suffered from with three new messages from him saying he forgives me for being late and the dragons do too, and he will read to me again sometime.

Yeah. I’m not seeing him again.

I was talking to this guy who was an avid shooter, and as a date we were going to go to an indoor shooting range. To make it more “datelike” we decided to have dinner at this really great restaurant. We had a really nice dinner, but his must not have agreed with him. When we were leaving the restaurant we were talking and he promptly ripped a huge juicy fart. I don’t mind farts, but this was like the Atom Bomb of butt bombs. And instead of apologizing for it, he laughed and pushed out another one. Seriously?

I shrugged it off and ignored it, and  we got in the truck and started heading to the place where he got ammo. Suddenly he said “Oh nos (yes, oh nos, he said that) I need to take a crap!” At this time I was thinking, “No you need to take me home.” I was absolutely grossed out by that point.

So he pulled into a Casey’s General Store, hopped out, and went inside. No more than five minutes later he came out, opened the truck door and said “We need to run to Farm and Fleet, I need new jeans.” I just looked at him and he said “I got to the bathroom and when I went to undo my pants I pushed out a fart but it wasn’t a fart.” He shit his pants. So that grossed me out even more. Really, if you know you have to crap and you are THIS CLOSE to sitting on the john, why would you push out a fart!? Why wouldn’t you wait?! Here’s the nasty part.

He had crap ALL OVER the back of his jeans. Very obviously crap all over. War zone. He went into the store, picked out jeans, and instead of CHANGING into them and out of his crap covered pants, he BROWSED THE FRIGGING STORE! WITH CRAP ALL OVER HIM!

I was done after that.

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.

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.