I met T on an online dating site where I had previously met a boyfriend and several platonic friends. I live in a big city but don’t have a car. At the time, I relied solely on public transportation. T lived in a totally different city, about 20 miles away. However, he attended the university that was just a few blocks from my apartment, so we agreed to meet there for lunch. The fact that he didn’t offer to pick me up and drive me somewhere was OK, since there was a strip mall type place on campus, and I figured we could get Chinese food or something.

I didn’t know where anything was on the campus, so I wandered around for a while until I found T. And he did not look like his pictures. He was still moderately good looking, though, so I figured I’d continue.

Instead of walking to where the restaurants all were, we went to the student lounge. Which would be OK, except I wasn’t a student there, and the only food place was Subway. I like Subway as much as the next person (except maybe Jared), but not for a first date. But what’s even worse is that he didn’t order any food. He ordered himself a Diet Coke (because he only drinks Diet Coke and water) and didn’t offer to pay for my drink. But I’m a modern woman, I can handle going Dutch (even though I do believe that, traditionally, whomever asks for the first date should pay, especially if it’s only a $1.50 soda).

I was feeling a little hesitant at this point, but I stuck with it because we were compatible in our emails. But the conversation lagged. I asked questions and he gave one-word answers…until he asked me about my feelings on the zombie apocalypse. I told him I didn’t have any, because zombies aren’t real. He launched into a 30-minute diatribe on zombies. It was at this point that I called it quits and left. Luckily, he didn’t try for a kiss or a hug.

He did keep texting me for a few weeks after. It hurts me to say that I completely ignored him, but I just couldn’t handle it anymore.

One summer I was at grad school; my roommate and I were poor so we didn’t have a television or a car. All we could afford to eat was spaghetti.

I got asked out to a guy’s place for dinner.  It seemed like a casual thing, so I asked if my roommate could come too.  He seemed pretty happy to have two girls at his apartment and proudly made us a big old pot of spaghetti.

A few weeks later, my roommate got asked over to another guy’s place; she returned the favor by inviting me along.  This guy made an afternoon of entertaining us.  First, he showed us his album of photos of himself playing the tuba – he was a performance major.  His sister kept yelling at him from the living room where she was laid up with a broken foot.  As a dutiful brother he kept bringing her things, even though her voice sounded exactly like Fran Dreschers’ from The Nanny.  Every time we went into the living room, her little dog would get all excited and start peeing everywhere.  Finally, after what felt like an endless amount of hours spent looking at tuba photos and wiping up dog pee, he made us dinner – which, of course, was spaghetti.

MVWD happened when I was in university. I met this guy, N, at a party. He seemed like a decent guy, so I agreed to go out with him.

He was supposed to call me to figure out the details of the date (we’d said ‘Saturday, dinner and movie’ but not time or place). When he called, I was in class so I asked him to call back later; I didn’t hear from him until he texted me, late afternoon the day we were supposed to be going out. He still wanted to go out, but he could only do the movie, and it’d have to be the late show. Fine, whatever.

On the date, he reeked and complained about how little money he had. I prefer to pay my own way anyway, but he didn’t give me the chance, using one of those electronic ticket booths. Even though I’d explained that I hate horror movies, sure enough he bought tickets to one. We watched it anyway, and he kept trying to grope me in the packed theatre. As he drove me home, he started calling and texting someone, making plans for after he dropped me off -we almost crashed because he wasn’t paying attention. He also wouldn’t stop talking about drugs.

At that point, I just wanted to get away from him, but he insisted on walking me to my door. Then he lunged for a kiss; I was surprised and just kind of froze, which he apparently interpreted as me being into it, because he then tried to unbutton my pants. On the first date. Still outside. I pushed him away, said goodbye, got inside my apartment and locked the door.

Naturally, I ignored the rest of his texts and calls.

My Very Worst Date happened about two years ago. I met A through some mutual friends and we started hanging out. We made plans for me to come over to his house for dinner one Friday night after having hung out a couple of times. The day of the dinner, I got fired from my job. I felt terrible but decided to still go over to A’s house anyways.

When I got there, I quickly realized he had invited some of our mutual friends for dinner as well. I was upset, thinking it was just going to be dinner alone, but I let it slide, trying to have the rest of my day go better than the first part of it. Being people that I knew as well, I let him and everyone else know that I had lost my job. He didn’t console me or anything while everyone else was, but I chalked it up to him making everyone dinner. I had walked in and noticed two tables set up for only couples. but when it came time to eat, he sat us down at the only table that wasn’t for just two people. I was a little upset but again tried to make the best of it.

After dinner, he proceeded to get high while the rest of us decided to go downtown. I rode with him downtown – bad idea I know – but once we got there, he dissappeared. I didn’t see him the rest of the night. I ended up having to catch a ride from my friends so I could get back to my car. Ditched on a date on the same day I lost my job!

He called a week later to tell me that he wasn’t ready for a relationship, but I let it go to voicemail.

Last summer, my friend T asked me out on a date. We had slept together six months previously, and though it had been awkward I wanted to give him another chance. He asked me to meet him at the metro station near my house, saying he had “the whole date planned out,” but refusing to tell me what it was. I showed up in jeans, a tank top, and my new flower-print heels.

I asked him what we were doing, and he said we were going to the movies. While we waited in line for the movie (the sixth Harry Potter, which he picked without asking my opinion), he passed time by insulting my shoes, my hair, and my outfit. By the time we entered the theater, I was offended but decided to try to relax and enjoy the movie. The theater was packed, we were surrounded on all sides by families, including many kids.

Everything was going fine, until about 30 minutes into the movie when he grabbed my hand very suddenly and nervously. I thought he was trying to hold hands, but instead he shoved my hand down his pants! I wasn’t sure if it was Ron and Hermione that did it or me, but he was already quite excited. I pulled my hand away quickly, and started laughing. He scooted away from me and glared, continuing to glare for the next 20 minutes.

Then, his cell phone rang. He ran out of the theater, and came back five minutes later saying that his mom had called and he needed to go home, but I was free to stay and enjoy the movie (which was in a dodgy part of town and wouldn’t end until late at night). I said that I’d leave with him instead.

He refused to take the train back into the center of town, instead saying we’d split a cab and I’d get out first at my apartment. As we neared my place, he confessed that he had no cash and I’d have to pay for the whole taxi (including the 30 minute ride from my place to his). I threw some cash at him, disgusted, and went home. Awful!

I work as a waitress at a dive bar, and in the course of my employment I tend to get hit on a lot. As a rule, I don’t take any of these (usually drunk) guys up on their offers.

However, last summer a guy came in who seemed pretty cool. We struck up a conversation, and when he asked me for my number I figured, why not? He seemed to have a lot of nice qualities – he said he was an English teacher, he played the guitar, he was the same age as me, and he was new in town (hence at the bar alone).

The following weekend, we met up at a bar in my neighborhood for drinks. Unfortunately, though I was in my date-night best, he looked like he had just come in from doing yard work – grubby t-shirt, ratty shorts, flip-flops. I decided to let it slide, and we got to chatting. After a few drinks, he didn’t seem so bad so I agreed to a second date.

For the second date, we met at a bar/restaurant in his neighborhood for dinner. When it came time to order, he said he wasn’t eating because he didn’t have any cash. Finally, he agreed to get something when I offered to pay (it was dinnertime and I was hungry). As the evening wore on, I came to find out that he was not, in fact, an English teacher. He had interviewed once for an adjunct professor position but was actually an unemployed subcontractor. Though I was having some major reservations at that point, I agreed to go hang out at his place for a little bit after dinner.

When we got there, he told me that his electricity had been shut off for non-payment. As such, it was pitch dark and hotter than hell in there (it was July in the city). I beat feet out of there, and stopped returning his calls, at which time he started sending the craziest texts- first obscene, then angry, then begging. Eventually he got the message and stopped texting when I never responded.

After that, I never deviated from my no-dating-guys-from-the-bar rule.

Back in my college days, I agreed to go on a date with the friend of my very sweet next door neighbor Tom. His friend was kinda cute and had a bit of the bad boy look to him and we agreed to a double date. The four of us made the 45-minute drive to the city to see a free movie at a popular historical site. I had wanted to see this movie for a while, but I was not happy with my date’s behavior: walking on the seats at the 100-year old theater, loud complaining and inappropriate laughing, which eventually forced an usher to come and ask him to please quiet down. After the movie, we worked our way downstairs where there was a wedding reception going on.  Since parking is an issue downtown, we had parked across the street at a mall. This wedding reception offered free validation to its guests. So while the three of us stood there mortified, my date crashed the reception, grabbing some food and a validation pass on the way.

As we were making our way to car, we passed a sporting goods store and my date said he needed to pick up a bike part. Being pretty annoyed with him by now, I opted to wait at the front of the store. About 10 minutes later, he came back saying they were out of the part he needed so we went to the car. I was ready to go home, but the other couple wanted to go to dinner at a local pizza joint. On the way there, my date noted that he only had $20 for dinner, saying, “So you can’t order a drink and we’re gonna have to share.” I told him I’d pay for myself and he acted all pissed, like I was hurting his manhood. As he pulled out his wallet to pay, he also revealed a small bike part still in its packaging. Yup, that’s right. He had stolen it. On a date. This knowledge and confrontation of the theft led to a very awkward and silent 45-minute drive home. At my door, he grabbed me and kissed me, sticking his tongue down my throat. Resisting the urge to vomit, I wordlessly opened the door and slammed it.

He called a few times after, but I never returned them. A few weeks later, my roommate had to watch court proceedings for her criminal justice class. She watched his trial for stealing $400 worth of CD’s from Kmart. Needless to say, I never saw him again.

After a few drinks with a co-worker at a pizza joint and numerous games of pool, I decided to give my number to a guy we were playing against. I’ll call him “Steve.” I’d just broken up with someone and wanted to make my first foray back into the dating world. 

The next day he called me up to gush about how much fun he had and how he was excited to take me out. We made plans to go for dinner later in the week. He left it up to me to pick the place. I asked if he liked ethnic food and after being assured that he did, I chose a little Thai place with great reviews.

We decided to meet and take the bus together to the restaurant. Steve didn’t drive. It was -25F. I grabbed a cab and told Steve to jump in at our designated meeting place. He made a feeble attempt to pay for it when we got to the restaurant. Needless to say, I was the one shelled out the cash. 

After we took our seats, the waiter asked if we would like drinks. As I scanned the wine list, Steve said “Uh, uh well water’s fine with ME.” I was peeved and felt like I had to get water too. Steve then went over the prices on the menu and told me he really wasn’t “that hungry.” He also didn’t like anything too spicy, which was tough since we were in a Thai restaurant. 

When the bill came (no coffee or dessert), it sat there for 20 minutes until I picked it up and asked if he’d like to split it. He jumped on the offer stating: “Yah, yah, if that’s what you wanna do!” I paid my half AND left the tip.

I called two cabs and made an excuse that I had other plans nearby. We walked out and a cab pulled up and Steve jumped in. I was left standing downtown in the freezing weather alone. When I didn’t return his texts or calls after that lovely evening, Steve got mad and texted that I “was no prize anyways.”

Catching a cab in New York City often requires a very specific set of combat skills. Curbside battles for taxis are not uncommon, as are aggressive pedestrian advances up or down one-way blocks to flag a ride before rivals stationed on street corners.

We’ve also had two Very Worst Dates featuring NYC taxis (the Union Square to the Lower East Side hop and the downtown Manhattan to Williamsburg version). So when we heard of a plan to encourage the metropolis’ denizens to share cabs during peak hours last week, we only considered the dollar-saving sense of the move. It turns out there might be an upside for the love life of New Yorkers as this letter to The New York Times from a man (and stand-up comedian), who’s twice dated women he met after sharing cabs with them, suggests. 

So if you are single-and-looking in the city (and the near-bridge parts of the outer boroughs), survey your surroundings for fellow flaggers. He or she might be a potential date. Think of it as another gift of the recession. Even if it does not work out, at least you’ve saved a few bucks. And there’s always the next journey…

Our current Great Recession is getting tougher every day. Could dating, em, rich be the way out? We went to Tatiana Boncompagni, a journalist and author who’s specialized in chronicling the ways of the rich and aspiring, for advice on following the money. While researching her second novel, Hedge Fund Wives, she took a lot of HFWs to lunch and asked them all sorts of prying questions, including how to successfully date (even in this economy!) a hedge funder/banker/financier for that Happily-Ever-Harry-Winston-after.

Here’s what Tatiana, who’s happily married, gleaned tips-wise: 

1. Pretend not to care about money, but look like you’ve got plenty of it. (No matter how bad things get, he still doesn’t want to date a girl with chipped nails, frizzy hair and overgrown eyebrows.)

2. Cook for him. (Broiling a steak is surprisingly easy, ladies.)

3. If you happen to make more money than him, don’t rub it in his face. (And don’t tell your friends, who will gladly do it for you.)

4. Try not to laugh when he starts crying at the ATM.

5. Knowing how to give a great blow job works in any economy.

And Tatiana had a few more words of wisdom to add to this list: 

“If you follow these simple rules you may just be able to survive the recession with your relationship intact. But might I suggest that any of you eager readers out there take a second or two to ask yourself: Is it really worth it? Consider the opportunity costs—i.e. the hotties you could be dating—and the costs (all the upkeep and ego stroking!) versus benefits (that diamond engagement ring is getting smaller by the day…) and come to your own conclusion.”