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.

I met him online.  We talked on the phone for hours, had similar interests and seemed to get along quite nicely.  He lived about an hour away from me in a big city so we finally set up a date to meet for dinner at a restaurant near his apartment and then head downtown for a comedy show.  Usually a two-part first date isn’t my thing, but we got along so well on the phone that I was for it.  He gave me the address to the restaurant so on the night of the date, I plugged it into my GPS and was on my way.

I finally arrived at the restaurant address to find that it was an apartment complex.  When I called him to ask where I was supposed to be, he told me that he had looked up the restaurant online so the address must have been wrong.  He met me in the parking lot that I was sitting in (to my excitement, he was completely gorgeous) and told me there was another restaurant just up the street that we could go to.  The restaurant up the street was actually in a strip mall next to this sketchy biker bar where the men outside were cat-calling any woman that walked by.  The restaurant was scheduled to close in 30 minutes, so I suggested going to another place but my date assured me it was fine and whisked me into the empty restaurant.  Luckily the wait staff was kind enough to keep the buffet up for us to fill our plates and sit down.

During dinner, he somehow managed to get on the topic of how he hated the US government (he was originally from Romania).  He started ranting about how we spend too much money on our defense and somehow knew all this information about a military base close by that had six airplanes just sitting there, and how each propeller on the airplane was $30,000.  It was all a bit odd to me because he didn’t work for the government, so I had no idea how he knew any of this – or why he felt it was a good first-date conversation.  Trying to lure him away from the subject, I started talking about cars (one of our common interests).  It was going fine until…

Him: I love driving fast.  Man, I hate cops.  They’re all jacka**es.  I mean why can they speed on the interstate but I can’t?  It’s so f**king stupid.
Me: .. I mean, if everyone went as fast as they wanted there would probably be more accidents, right?
Him: No, I mean maybe the idiots would get in accidents, but I wouldn’t.  I’m a great driver.  I just think the social contract is stupid.  Just because we live in society doesn’t mean we should have to abide by rules.  It’s so dumb.
Me: I think it’s just how life is.. otherwise there would be chaos…

He started ranting on, and on about the government again, never letting me get two words in edgewise.  It was just a bit infuriating because he continued to bash the USA and try to tell me, an American, how corrupt we all were.  Finally, he demanded the check from the waiter by saying, “Hey, we’re done. Check.”

I hoped his anti-American rant was just his nerves, so I thought going to the comedy show would maybe get him to relax a bit and bring back that connection we had on the phone.  He wanted to ride together to the show so he asked me if he could drive us in my car (a new BMW that I hadn’t ever let anyone else drive).  When I told him that I would drive us if we were taking my car, he huffed, “Fine, whatever” and got in.  On the way to the show, he insulted my driving saying I was going too slow and if he had been driving, he would’ve been going at least 80 miles-per-hour in the 55 miles-per-hour zone.

We got to the show and sat down at the table.  The show had a two drink per person minimum so he asked me what kind of beer I wanted and then ordered four of them to cover the drink minimum.  He downed two of them in the opening act as I sipped on my one. Then he asked me “Are you going to drink that?” about the third beer.  I told him he could have it, but he wanted to share it so he poured a little into my bottle.  The comedian was great, but ironically he told a joke about people hating the “social contract” and how they were all idiots.

Comedian:  Have you guys ever met someone against the “social contract”?  Can you imagine what it would be like at Starbucks if there was no social contract?   It’d be f**king chaos in there!  People would be jumping on the counters screaming “Give me my latte!!!”  Those people should go live on their own island and see how having no social contract goes..

After the show, the first thing my date said to me was, “What was that guy’s problem with Starbucks?”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was people like him that he had the problem with.  I took him back to his car and didn’t see him again.

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 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.

During my junior year of high school, I agreed to be my best friend’s wingwoman to another high school’s homecoming dance. Her almost-boyfriend had a cute friend who was going to be my date, so it seemed like it would be a great night.

But, of course, it was not meant to be a great night. The cute friend bailed three hours before the dance, and the only other friend Almost-Boyfriend could get to come on such short notice was J.

Now, I didn’t mind that J was scrawny and looked like Kip from Napoleon Dynamite except with Uncle Rico’s curl-under hair. I didn’t mind that he was a foot shorter than me (I kid you not). I was even willing to ignore his obvious shyness as we drove to dinner (at a Mexican place where I had contracted mononucleosis two months before).

J wasn’t eating his salad, and I tried to make conversation by asking him if was feeling all right. His answer (while staring down at the table): “I have food allergies… Do you have food allergies?”

I have no food allergies. We didn’t talk for the rest of dinner.

At the dance, I managed to avoid dancing with him, for the most part. But in the spirit of trying to get my best friend and Almost-Boyfriend together, I condescended to go for one slow dance with J. To him, this apparently meant taking my hands in his and swinging our arms in giant erratic circles, hitting other couples mercilessly in the process.

He asked me to be his girlfriend at the end of the night.

I’m still trying to figure out what planet he was from.

I was a junior in college and fed up with the lack of suitable guys on campus, so I turned to online dating. I started talking to M about a week after I joined the website. He seemed really nice, funny, and pretty attractive. After a couple weeks of e-mailing and texting, he asked me out for coffee, and I accepted.

I was a little late because the Metro was backed up, so I texted him when I got there about 30 minutes after I had planned. He hadn’t shown up yet. So I got myself a cup of coffee, and started to read a book while I waited. He showed up, sat down, and drummed on the table to announce his arrival. I looked up, and immediately knew that this would not work out. He had obviously very carefully selected the pictures on the website- this kid was nothing like what I had remembered. Who walks around with headphones around their neck? Seriously. On a date. He was also carrying a bucket of chicken, knowing full well that I am vegetarian. He was apparently one of those guys who thinks meat jokes are hilarious. He didn’t order anything.

We started talking, I was trying to be polite while trying to hint that I was not into the date. Then he asked if I wanted to hear a jazz band play. I love music, so I figured that there was no way I wouldn’t enjoy that. Wrong.

We got into a cab to go to the venue, and he kept trying to find excuses to touch me. When we finally arrived, he said “Oh…I don’t have any cash on me…” So I paid the driver, but he insisted on me giving him the money, and him handing it up. Ok…

So we walked to the venue, and he asked the guy at the door how we get in.

“You buy tickets.”
“Oh..you have to buy tickets? How much are they?”
“$15.”
“Never mind.”

So he turned to me and said “Well, I guess that didn’t work out”. Then he took my hand and linked it in the most awkward way possible with his arm, and said “You know, in France, this is how they walk. They’re also known for their kissing.” Um, no.

I tried to play it off, but he asked me to his apartment. I said that I had a terrible headache and needed to go home. He said that I just need a few drinks. I kept insisting that I needed to go to the metro, and that if he wouldn’t take me, I’d just walk myself. So he took me, the whole time trying to hold my hand. When we got there, he leaned in for a kiss; and I gave him the awkward cheek turn and literally RAN down the stairs to the trains.

Later that weekend, he texted me: “Uh oh…I think I might be pregnant! What should we do!?”

I never responded. He tried to text me a few more times after that. I still don’t understand how he thought that any of my actions that night told him that I was even remotely interested.

I was 15, going on a date with a guy, Eduardo, that my best guy friend was friends with. My bestie, Bernard, and my sister were semi-dating at the time, and we all decided to go to the local carnival.

(Eduardo and Bernard went to a different school than my sister and I did.  Therefore, I was unaware that Eduardo had recently broken it off with another girl in the week before asking me out.)

It was hot, the carnival was set up on either side of a long road, and the rides were spaced out.  My sister and I were waiting for the guys to get there, when she nodded towards some girls walking by.  The girl in the lead was bull-dog ugly, and scrawny, and dressed like a boy.  She had even painted a moustache on her face.  We giggled to each other, but didnt think anything of it.

Eduardo and Bernard got there, and we got the date under way.  As we walked through the carnival, Eduardo took my hand. I really liked him so I blushed and led him to the Haunted House ride, and we did a little kissing in the dark.

When we exited, Bernard and my sister were glaring at each other. Eduardo and Bernard walked away, on the premise to buy some drinks for all of us, and my sister said that I need to be careful of Eduardo.  When I asked why, she said that Bernard just saw the best friend of the girl Eduardo dumped, and that he knew Eduardo had been talking to said ex earlier that day. Bernard and my sister agreed that Eduardo probably wasnt over that other girl yet, and that she was probably there at the carnival somewhere.

Bernard and Eduardo come back, and nothing was said (I was 15, naive, and this was the first date I had ever been on.)  We continued with the rides, even having a good time snuggling on the Ferris Wheel.

Then came the Tilt-A-Whirl.  It was my favorite ride – I was really excited to go.  I practically dragged everyone there and we waited in line. E said that he had to use the bathroom and would be back in a moment. My sister made Bernard follow him, to make sure he wasnt seeing this other girl.  Guess what? That girl, with the painted on moustache?  THAT WAS THE OTHER GIRL!  Eduardo told her to come in a disguise, so that Bernard wouldnt recognize her, and she chose to paint on facial hair and dress like a boy.  WTF!!

So, Bernard watched them kiss, and didnt say anything to Eduardo when he got back.  I took one look at Eduardo and started freaking out. My sister had a horrified look on her face and Bernard just burst out laughing.  Eduardo had black paint all over his face and lips.  I got really pissed and the three of us left Eduardo alone at the carnival.  I was so angry that I didnt look where I was going, and actually ran into the other girl.

When I saw her, I started yelling that he was using both of us. She started bawling, and her friends had to pick her up off the ground as she fell over.  As they got her up, she started screaming about how he used her as a towel after he masturbated, and that they were supposed to be having sex that night and now she would never lose her virginity. This was in front of everyone, including the police who rode bikes to keep an eye on things. It was so messed up.

She ended up being in some of my classes later in high school, and went to the same small college my current boyfriend attended. He said she was a lesbian, and that she actually wore fake beards and moustaches all the time.

And Eduardo? Eduardo managed to impregnate two sisters (one was 17, the other 15) when he  was a senior in high school.  He works for the carnival when it comes through town, as one of the games people.  Totally dodged a bullet, I do believe.

I had just broken up with my boyfriend and my friend insisted on setting me up with a guy she declared to be my ‘soul mate.’ Foolishly eager to move on, I agreed. I exchanged a few emails with M and decided he seemed to share my sense of humor. I looked at his facebook pictures, and he was one of those guys who looked really attractive in some pictures and really unattractive in others, so I was aware that either might show up on our date.

We decided to meet up at a bar he was going to with his friends. My friend who set us up would be there as well. I walked in and I spotted him immediately. He was an inch shorter than me (I’m 5’8), and he of course looked like the unattractive picture. But I thought he might end up being really fun or mentally stimulating, so I didn’t completely write him off.

M offered to buy me a drink which I declined, because I hadn’t even spoken to him and it made me feel oddly uncomfortable. I wanted to socialize with the group first and then hopefully eventually we’d end up hitting it off. I felt like the awkwardness of a semi-blind date might be avoided if we were in a group setting. Wrong. He ended up leading me to a table in the back of the bar, that was one table separated from where his group of friends was sitting. So we had to sit alone, while his entire group of friends actually sat huddled around the table staring at us interact. Needless to say, I was uncomfortable.

The entire time he flirted with me in this smarmy way and made far too much eye contact while resting his chin on his hands. I stuck it out because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. After an hour of forced but pleasant conversation, my friend came over and said she and her boyfriend were leaving, and asked M if he wanted a ride since he had come with them. He said ‘I don’t know if I need to come with you guys’ and looked at me in a suggestive way. I took the opportunity to say I was leaving too, and grabbed my things and left as quickly as possible.

Luckily he only messaged me once after that, and while I was polite, I think he got the clue.

MVWD was dreadful, mostly because it wasn’t even meant as a date.  I was enjoying being single after leaving a really damaging and abusive relationship a month earlier, and had made some new friends while enjoying my newfound freedom. Two guys I met, E and G, lived together with some mutual friends. G and I really hit it off, exchanged numbers and chatted, but he was going home for the winter holidays soon.  E took this chance to regale me with tales of his depressed mother, terrible self-esteem issues, fabulous World of Warcraft victories and totally unrelated (to him) string of academic failures at university.  As this was just before Christmas (and I was clearly the most naive lass in the room), I figured he needed a mate to talk to and invited him and two other people over for a film and dinner.

It turned out to be just the two of us as the others bailed, but I didn’t think anything of it.  E turned up on time with a clinking carrier bag, which seemed odd as the plan was clearly for one film and dinner, and he’d brought enough alcohol for a full-on rave.  Things took a decided downturn when he pulled out a huge bottle of Baileys and a Minnie Mouse doll, which he called Dot and played with (or caressed) all evening.  He’s 23 at this point.  Then, one film turned into all the Disney films in the flat in a row, complete with him singing along to all the music.  My other flatmates were out for the evening, so I couldn’t even conscript them into rescuing me.

After a couple of hours, he’d drunk enough to floor most people and clearly thought he’d scored – based on what I’ve no idea.  He started listing the cheesiest lines of the movies in between howling tunelessly along with The Little Mermaid – complete with the yawn and stretch to put his arm round me.  It felt like he’d learned everything about dating from 1980s teen movies.  I curled up in the corner of the sofa with my arms round my knees, hardly sending out inviting vibes while he trotted out cliche after cliche. We carried on with this ridiculous scenario until about midnight.  Finally, one flatmate returned and I seized the opportunity to turn E out, claiming tiredness and a busy day the next day.

Trying to avoid any sort of awkward goodbye hugging, I showed him out and returned to my room, only to find he’d followed me back without saying a word and was now standing  behind me breathing halitosis on my neck at the (closed) door to my room, waiting expectantly for me to usher him graciously in.

Luckily, before I could freak out properly, my flatmate appeared and kicked E out, having watched him follow me back down the corridor, and we had a good laugh over it.  E’s apparently been doing the same pity-’date’ routine for years, and recently had his crowning moment when he traveled to Sweden to meet a girl he’d befriended on WoW, only to be sent home again within 3 days because she couldn’t take the narcissistic droning and personal space invasions any more.  G and I were engaged three months later, and we’re getting married next year, so this should remain MVWD ever.