After the end of a 9-year relationship, I hit the dating sites hard, without any real clue what I was looking for. Company, commiseration, etc. This resulted in a string of fruitless dates, some lame, some sketchy, some quite good and some drunkenly disastrous.

Now, a little background info on me: I’m a good girl in the eyes of law, no record, no arrests, no desire to do anything that would jeopardize my stable and well-paying job. I’m actually somewhat classy when it comes to revealing personal/private details too soon and I almost always put other people first. Relatively conservative when it comes to dating and sleeping around. Somewhat shy but working on coming out of my shell. Oh yeah, and at this point my emotional structure is damaged due the demise of what I thought would be my ‘last’ relationship with the 9 year fellow.

MVWD was actually a 3rd date with B. But – the 1st date is worth mentioning. We meet at a local restaurant. We both drink, so we end up sitting at the bar, chatting the night away and sucking down oysters. This guy is tall, strong, with a hypnotic voice and he’s just absolutely beautiful and talks his fool head off, and I’m instantly smitten despite the fact that he admitted right away that he A) had been in jail for robbing a local bank and gunpoint, (fake gun), because he B) had a gambling addiction, and C) he also seemed to be addicted to getting engaged to past loves. So despite those items, first date ended cutely, and second date soon after commenced.

Date 2 – he comes to my townhouse and spackles/re-paints some holes in my wall, fixes my door, and we nerd out to funny stuff on Youtube and whittle down a handle of Bacardi with my roommate. Lots of laughter and comedy, both of which I really needed. Later in the day we go meet some of my friends on the beach and have a great old time. He blends in perfectly with my people and overall is just seeming so awesome thus far. Even though it’s unlike me, we have racy relations in my car, moon roof open, parked at the beach, and again – I AM SMITTEN. I guess love adventure, what can I say. And at this point, in my opinion, this dude is perfect for me. He spends the night and was so at ease at my house, showering, making breakfast and joking with me and the roomie.

Date 3 – I drive up to his town for some Karaoke; the plan is that I will stay the night at his house because the drive home is an hour long and I intended to be drinking. I get there, he’s with friends, one of whom is also recently divorced after 8 years. I try to be polite and pay some attention to each of his friends, and actually I hardly talk to B at all, he’s busy singing and chatting with folks.

The night is ok so far, and at this point we are all pretty wasted from margaritas, and when I do see B he is grabbing and bouncing my breasts around in front of all these friends of his, mostly men. At one point he lifts my skirt up and tries to show them my ‘sweet ass.’ Mind you, we are in a restaurant. He then proceeds to tell his friends about our car sex and my lack of orgasm. I’m semi-mortified now, and try to chat with his buddies and somehow redeem myself.

We all go to a bar across the street and all hell breaks loose. As soon as we all walk in, B disappears to greet EVERYONE in the pub, as he knows them all. Doesn’t introduce me to any of them. So I grab one of his friends and we put some money on the pool table and are waiting to play.

I don’t see B for the better part of an hour, he’s bouncing around the pub being social and I’m fine with it. Actually having a good time lamenting with his recently divorced friend J. I even run into some of my friends, and as J and I are chatting with them, B storms up, drags me into a corner and starts to chastise me about not paying attention to him. But he couldn’t admit it that way, but rather accuses me of paying TOO much attention to his other friends, J in particular, and goes on and on quite loudly about how ‘He doesn’t chase’. This lasted about ten minutes and then he tells me to just go the F#*k home.

I’m drunk, I’m in shock at how he’s treated me, and my car is across the highway. I leave the pub, sit outside and try to make sense of it all. I take off my heels and before attempting to cross the highway I head back into the pub to see if things have cooled down and to pay my tab. B yells at me again, accusing me of avoiding eye contact all night and being a whore. I’m in tears and storm out of the bar; he follows, again telling me to just go home. I stumble across the highway and into my car, where I proceed to bawl and drunk dial my ex, who tries his best to talk me down. After an hour or so of blubbering and trying to sober up, I drive home.

This particular female found me on a free online dating site and decided to message me. She looked attractive in her photos and had an interesting enough background, so we began corresponding. Within a few days of chatting online, she aggressively asked me for my number, which I reluctantly gave her, only to find her texting me later that night in a drunken state. I happened to be at work when she was texting me, which I stupidly admitted to her. She then asked me where I worked, so I stupidly told her. Moments later, she decided to call my work place, and boldly inquired about possibly drinking in my office with me. She told me she had been drinking in the East Village and wanted to continue drinking with me. I politely declined and asked her not to call my office again.

The next day she asked me around noon to meet her that evening at the Landmark Sunshine Cinema to watch a film. Upon my arrival there, I waited for at least ten minutes before receiving a text from the lady, asking me to purchase two tickets because she was running late. Soon thereafter, a cab pulled up and out she came. She seemed slightly drunk and sounded as though she had been smoking. I shrugged off this and we entered the cinema, only to discover that the film was “127 Hours.” Needless to say, that may have been one of the worst choices for a first date in the history of dating.

After the film, still feeling a little ill and out of it, she decided to drag me to a Thai restaurant to eat. Thinking this was a neutral option, I went along with her, knowing I could quickly eat and make my escape to work in no time. During dinner, my enchanting date decided to tell me that she was tired of dating in New York, and tired of the fact that most men here date multiple women simultaneously. She also emphasized her affluent childhood, her business and her brother’s girlfriend, with whom she had a poor relationship (yet she, her brother and his girlfriend were all sharing an apartment). Then, as if things could not have gotten any worse, my lovely date decided to tell me that she had once encountered a bloke she fancied at a bar with another girl, and decided to have some of her male friends “rough him up.”

After dinner, she invited me to join her friends at a club for a birthday party; however, I politely declined, citing work as my reason. I quickly darted for a cab and arrived to work barely on time. She texted me a few days later to ask me whether I wanted to join her in her jewelry studio after 9:00 pm, but I ignored her texts and eventually she left me alone.

I was invited to an art show in Los Angeles, but I was down on my luck so I did not have a car. I explained this situation to the friend who shot me the invite. He offered to have a close friend of his, V, come to pick me up since my friend didn’t have a car either. I refused to go unless I got a chance to get to know this “friend.” I wrote V a quick message on MySpace asking for his phone number. Honestly, his profile looked very interesting. His picture was also quite appealing, although there was only one shot taken of him. The rest of his album featured a handful of his artwork. I was intrigued and looking forward to talking to this guy.

I dialed V and we really hit it off. I was relieved. He was incredibly funny and we had a lot in common. After two weeks of talking on the phone, I agreed to let him come pick me up. Our friendship had blossomed into a possible romance. I kept logging into MySpace to look at his attractive photo and fantasize. Instead of just being a ride to the show, I agreed that I would go on a date with him.

I dressed up for this ride. I put on some make up and an attractive outfit. I wanted to impress this very alluring man that was on his way. I remember sitting on my bed in my room tying up lose ends when the doorbell rang. My mom answered it for me. Suddenly I saw her running. She sprinted into my room with this horrified look on her face. “Do you want me to tell him to leave?” she asked. My mother has never reacted to one of my friends like this before, so I was very perplexed.

I walked to the door and V immediately ran inside and gave me a giant hug. He looked nothing at all like his MySpace photo. He was taller than me, but managed to look like he was three feet tall. He had stubby legs, long monkey arms, and looked like he was fifty-five years old. His hairline receded all the way to the back of his head, and his body was completely covered with two inches of bear hair. His face was almost cartoonish in proportion. I decided not to be shallow. Who cares about looks? (He didn’t have any.) I reminded myself that this was the super cool dude that I’ve been talking to for weeks. Why miss out on this and regret it?

Ten minutes after I climbed into his car, this guy reached over and tries to grab my crotch. This was in between telling me that I’m unattractive, and packing his glass pipe with pot. He informed me that he was disappointed that I’m nothing to look at. I pushed his hand away and demanded that he take me home. He apologized profusely, and promised he would not do it again. He thought since we had a connection on the phone that he was cleared for some action. I told him that next time he does this I will call the cops, report him, and get the hell out of his car. I told him that I DID agree to a DATE, but that doesn’t mean I’m down to pound with someone I don’t know, and I called the date off. He explained he was misinformed about our status and will treat us as just friends from this point on.

An hour later we stop at a small city on the way to the art show. Without telling me why, V parked by a restaurant, got out of the car, closed the door, and left me. Thinking that he just had to use the rest room, I just kept on sitting. I eventually gave up the wait and walked in. There he was at a table. A waitress walked over and gave him a plate of food. “Oh okay…nice,” I snapped. I sat down to chew him out when I was blind-sided by the most disgusting display I’ve ever witnessed. He was eating refried beans. He shoveled them into mouth, causing most of them to fall back out into his plate. The regurgitated beans were wet and slimy. He scooped those up, put them back into his mouth, and repeated the process. I got up and went back to the car, furious and grossed out. I was so angry that I got lied to. This guy not only looks like hammered a**, his personality is awful.

I can’t say we arrived at HIS house. Come to find out this thirty five year old man lives with Mom. His room reminded me of a dungeon. There were no windows and he slept on a dirty mattress in the corner. This room was filled with canvases and art supplies, and nothing else. Here he proceeded to inform me that I “look like a girl that doesn’t take care of herself.” Followed by: “You’re a whore.” He then wanted to sleep with me. He pulled his pants down to show me the goods. He lacked in that area as well. A black Amazon forest covered his whole two inches. He was pudgy and reminded me of some sort of Hollywood horror creature. I’m talking like this because the guy he pretended to be on the phone turned out to be a fraud and extremely cruel.

His mother came in. She didn’t introduce herself to me. She simply started yelling at him in Spanish. Apparently this guy refuses to work, and she is sick of paying for his ratty car. She freaked out because this monster has his pants around his ankles. Now I’m double the harlot to two different weirdos.

At this point I ran out of that house. I was stranded in San Dimas, California, and I did not care. I high tailed it down the street as fast as I could with the hopes of V not being able to find me. I called my mom, who drove from Las Vegas to get me. I blocked V’s number, his MySpace page, and his email address. I also did the same to the asshole who introduced me to him.

I suppose I should start this off by stating that I first met this guy at my hometown bar. I had imbibed a great deal of Jameson and, after triumphantly exiting the bathroom without having vomited, I returned to my friend’s table to find she had struck up conversation with a pretty good looking guy. I introduced myself by stating that “we should go soon, puke is imminent.” Despite this, he and I hit it off…so much so that we ended up full on macking it at last call. Just about everyone I went to high school with was witness to this debauchery (I cringe at the thought of this).

Well, let’s just say, I was fresh off a broken heart and was gung ho with moving on, so when this guy asked me out for a date and it didn’t suck, I forged on, hoping this would be a positive distraction from sulking.

My all time favorite was lunch at the diner, our second date, in which he proceeded to order the Diabetic Special: 5 pancakes, 2 eggs over easy, and a plate of bacon. He used 12 syrup packs and put about 9 sugars in each coffee he ordered (I should mention that he weighed maybe 160 pounds soaking wet). I had barely touched my omelet when I realized he was polishing off the end of his meal.

He then walked me to his car, passenger side. I thought, oh how nice, he’s opening the door for me, when he proceeded to get into the seat! I stood there for a few seconds, confused, and then actually had to tell him that it was his car and he couldn’t possibly drive it from the passenger seat. If that wasn’t evidence enough of how flustered he was, he then proceeded to pull out of the lot over a curb, down a steep embankment that was not the exit (so strange, like Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride) and out onto a busy county road. I realized that I probably made him nervous and with the amount of sugar coursing through his veins, he was probably higher than a kite, so here’s to second chances and a few more dates…

Like the one where he got us tickets to the Rangers/Devils game and when I picked him up, he was wearing 90′s Levi Jeans, duck boots, and a Ranger’s jersey with a flannel jacket.

As I came to learn, this was not Zack Morris 90′s chic, this was a seriously outdated wardrobe and a seriously outdated guy. A 30+ year old guy that went to Phish shows and didn’t do drugs…a guy who reveled in the fact that he’d had the same dish soap for two years because he used it sparingly…a guy who didn’t use the internet, scoffed at IPODs and had quite the extensive CD collection. This was a guy who, as I later learned, loved watching Cops, wore wigwam socks, tighty whities and had coke bottle George Costanza glasses.

(None of you actually know me, so I can admit this part with great shame…I did actually wind up sleeping with him.)

So back to the date. We made it to the game, got to our seats and the first period passed without incident. It is at this point that my date decided he could find us better seats. So off we went, walking circles around the event center and being shooed away by ushers when my date attempted to “re-seat” us.

After the third or fourth rejected seating, he decided he was hungry and offered to buy us some dinner.  He chose sausage and pepper sandwiches (which, once ordered, were apparently going to be eaten on the go) and continued to search for “the seats,” duck boots squeaking the whole way.  At this point, he was at least 5 feet in front of me, face f*cking his sandwich, while I tried my best to keep up with my warp speed, sausage mowing date.

After this, the second most awkward eating experience of my life (funnily enough, the most awkward one was also with this guy), I suggested we go back to our actual seats, and he listened. Finally, I started to enjoy myself and was happy to be seated at last. I turned to  him and smiled, feeling proud of  myself for trooping through that mess…and he looked at me, smirked, and said “You’ve got some ‘stuff’ on your face.” Five minutes later, in the bathroom, I confirmed that I indeed had a clown-like stain of Frank’s Red Hot all around my lips and chin. Cool. Because we were sprinting around a sold out stadium while eating, I’d made a mess of myself. I cannot believe this wasn’t the end.

For those who care, the end was when he made Reubens with Sauerkraut at his house. Later, I did my best impersonation of someone that didn’t have to fart, while he seduced me and poked at me on his couch. When I left there, I’m fairly certain he was aware I was done and I didn’t hear from him again…

Until a few nights ago, when I was fast asleep at 3:00 am on a Thursday – and picked up my buzzing phone to a drunk dial from this guy. He pretended like we were old friends, that all of those awkward dates hadn’t happened, and that it wasn’t clearly a booty call (a year too late). He wished only to ask me a.) if I had a boyfriend (yes) b.) was it serious (yes) c.) was I pregnant (no) and then to inform me that d.) he was lonely and e.) I’m awesome. I thanked him, and wished him well on the next name in his phone book.

It was my freshman year of college when I met JF at a dance. Being shy in high school, I was inexperienced to say the least. So when JF began grinding with me at the dance I didn’t say no, though he was by no means a good dancer and no looker with his short black hair, squinty eyes and a lisp. I was not into it and even more put off when he told me he ‘liked my toenails.’

He did walk me back to my dorm, right to the door. Then promptly texted me five minutes later to ensure I’d ‘gotten home all right.’ I knew by then JF was not my type; in addition to sending off a creeper vibe, he was way too clingy. Had I decided on my own, there would have been no date. But when he asked me out, my friends insisted that I should go since he was so into me and I’d had so little experience dating. Against my better judgment, I eventually agreed. I relented to going to a movie with him as long as it was with friends too.

We decided on seeing Transformers at the discount theater. We met his group outside the theater and walked in. His two friends went down the row first, followed by me, then JF, then my friends. But apparently JF was not happy with this arrangement. He asked his two friends to move down and sit next to my friends, effectively isolating me. Now this was Transformers, not a scary movie, but at least three times during the movie, he leaned over and asked if I was ok. Not only that, but when he tried to hold my hand during the movie, he managed to grab hold of the wrong hand. Twice. So I sat next to him with my left arm awkwardly across my lap for half the movie. It speaks to how good Transformers was that I still liked it.

At the end of the movie, my friends and I agreed to visit JF’s dorm since we hadn’t been there. I figured I’d be safe in the company of my three friends. Wrong. When we got to his dorm, we were all standing around JF’s doorway. I readily agreed when his friends offered to give us a tour around the dorm, only to find myself taken into a bear hug and back pedaled into JF’s room and onto his bed just as everyone was leaving. We awkwardly spooned for a few minutes as he flipped through channels and I contemplated ways to extract myself. After literally counting down in my head for two minutes, I made the feeble excuse that my friends might worry where I had gone and made my escape.

Needless to say, there was no second date as his texts mysteriously went answered. I found out later that JF has a bit of a reputation among my class, having creeped on nearly every girl in it.

My Very Worst Date was actually two dates with one guy, because I am a glutton for punishment.

A nice guy I met at a bar asked me out. He was interesting and fun. We will call him G. Dinner was wonderful and we headed back to his place for a movie. He informed me he was moving and it was a mess, and that he had an elderly roommate who owned the house. I walked in and was struck by a wave of urine smell. The place was a disaster, and I swear a cockroach stole a bracelet of mine when I took it off for a second.

The worst problem wasn’t even the smell. It was his creepy, lecherous elderly male roommate and his dog… the dog didn’t go to the bathroom outside, instead it went inside on a flat piece of cardboard; hence the urine smell. I thought I was going to lose my dinner.

I told my date I was feeling ill and he took me home. He begged for another date after he was done moving this week, apologizing for his current situation and his roommate. I still thought he was nice but his living situation sucked so I said yes.

The following weekend everything was great. His new place was beautiful; he was renting a room in a house from an older woman. Things were going well.

Two days later I got a phone call from G’s new roommate. She was screaming into the phone wanting to know where G was. I told her I didn’t know and she hung up. A few minutes later I got a phone call from a woman who said she was G’s sister, also yelling and wondering where he was. I said I didn’t know and she hung up. I was very confused at this point; first as to how they got my number, and second what the hell was going on!

Then I heard a knock on the door. I wasn’t very surprised that it was the cops wanting to know where G was. I told them the same thing – I didn’t know and that I had just met him. They thanked me and started to leave. I asked why they were looking for him. They told me he had taken everything of value from his new roommates house late the night before and pawned it. Then he stole his old roommate’s car and fled. The only thing he left behind was my number on a piece of paper in the middle of his bedroom floor.

I really know how to pick a winner. He was picked up three weeks later for drunk driving the stolen car. After he got out of jail he tried to call me, but this time I passed.

My Very Worst Date really wasn’t a “date” per se, but I thought it was absolutely too ridiculous and terrible not to share:

I am in graduate school and have been flirty with a guy, Joe, almost ever since we got here. Last year we went out but both of us had just gotten out of relationships and it didn’t go anywhere at the time. Although the timing wasn’t right, I knew I liked him and was attracted to him ever since. We were friendly, but I definitely don’t think we were close friends. Almost a year later, after hanging out at a mutual friend’s place with a bunch of friends, we were both drunk and he told me how he is attracted to me, and asked me to go home with him. At that point, I had really wanted to for a while. I initially was going to crash at another friend’s place (Mark, a platonic friend). Joe acknowledged the tension between us ever since we went out the year before, and said he was glad we were doing this.

I am not the most prudish person in the world but I was slightly put off when he asked if we could go sans-condom. I said no. But sure enough, a little while later, the condom was gone! I asked him what happened to it, and told him to put one on. He pretended it slipped off, and pretended to look for it. It was laying on the bed off to the side. At that moment I knew it was a mistake and knew this would be nothing more than a one-night stand. I was in disbelief because he had always seemed like a great guy. Anyway, when I got up to use the bathroom, he literally crawled up the wall (he lay there, naked, with his legs up in the air, resting against the wall). In the morning, I woke up before the alarm and went home to shower.

A few hours later, I received a text message from him. He said he “likes someone else” and wants to be just friends. I literally laughed out loud. I told him that it was ok, we don’t have to be friends, and he asked me what I told Mark. I said it was none of his business. Then Joe sent me a text saying he is sorry for being “emotionally unavailable” and for hurting my feelings, and he wants us to be civil (as if to say, I was being difficult). In any event it seemed insincere or something.

By the time I responded (no more than five minutes later), I told him to let it go and forget it (I wasn’t interested in getting into it with him, especially after I already decided to move on). But it was too late. Joe already sent Mark an EMAIL saying he really hurt my feelings because he likes someone else. The weird thing about it was that Joe isn’t even close friends with Mark, as he doesn’t have his phone number, so I find it strange – and so did Mark – that he’d contact him. I was mortified, and he blamed me because I told him it was none of his business when he asked what I told Mark.

I saw Joe a few days later in the student lounge and he came right over to me and sat down next to me like nothing even happened, and flirtatiously tried to make small talk with me. I politely left after a couple other people showed up. I try to avoid him now, but since we have a lot of mutual friends it’s not always possible, but I think for the most part I’ve handled it well. I wish I wasn’t as nice though, but I suppose I was hoping for a sincere apology about the condom-removal….never got one.

Yes, it was a mistake to go home with him; and I am now much more discerning when it comes to hooking up with guys!

It’s probably important to give a bit of the back story – I’d known L for five years. Though not a coworker, she was employed by a company contracted to perform work for my company. For the first four years of our acquaintance, we’d had a pretty straightforward relationship, but one that evolved – from that of a contract employee, to curiosity, to flirtation and teasing. After all this time, I’d considered her a friend.

But to a degree, the relationship continued to ‘evolve.’ Over the past 9 months or so, we began to notice one another. Though the banter we shared still remained flirtatious, fleeting glances would linger if one-or-the-other entered a room.

This past June, right after Father’s Day, a fairly innocuous remark sent our relationship spiraling upward. I’d asked if she had done anything special for her husband for the holiday. She responded that she hadn’t…and after some hesitation, remarked she was a single mom. I’d known about her child, but that didn’t dissuade me as I felt she was a quality person.

Needless to say, I began crafting plans for a date. There were considerations – work schedules, child care arrangements, etc. – but nothing I viewed as insurmountable.

But imagine my shock when in mid-July, she asked if I wanted to accompany her to Mexico in a few months for the Quinceanera of her niece. Though pleasantly surprised, I was skeptical. After all, we hadn’t even had our first date yet!

After some gentle probing by me, she indicated that she had asked me because I seemed to be a fun guy…that she’d heard some things about me and that it seemed I enjoyed adventure. In that regard, she’d spoken the truth – I’ve traveled extensively and wasn’t intimidated by the fact that I don’t speak Spanish, that the trip was to Mexico, and that we’d be staying with her family. Also, I do consider myself to be a ‘fun’ guy. Nevertheless, I was still somewhat nonplussed by her explanation. A more straightforward probing question, “Are you trying to make some guy jealous?” was met with a meekly stated, “I don’t use people like that” response.

I’ll skip the details of that first date – in hindsight there were a couple of proverbial “red flags” (unanswered cell phone calls; stating that she’d lied to her mother in order to obtain babysitting for the purpose of being with me for that afternoon) that I didn’t pursue with the fervor I should have.

The intervening weeks prior to the trip, yes, a couple of other red flag events, but all-in-all, things seemed to be going well. She encouraged the sweet nothings that I spoke. Serious questions regarding her personal desires and her dreams for her children were answered unflinchingly.

Fast forward now as finally, the evening of September 7th was upon us. We met briefly at my place – I let her park her car in my parking spot for the duration of her portion of the trip – and sped off to the airport.

Lots of conversation preceded an uneventful boarding and takeoff. Though the seat between us was open (through my effort with the airline), I quickly moved to settle next to her. While she told me that her friends had said she was lucky to have me as a travel companion, I truly felt that I were the lucky one, and told her so. Until…

Halfway through our flight, we began a casual conversation about dating. Maybe it was my intuition sparking me when I asked if she had a boyfriend. She responded she did. Now, I’m not naïve nor prudish. I realize that people often date outside of the primary dating relationship. Nonetheless, I was blindsided as a ‘boyfriend’ had not been mentioned prior to this, and surprised by the additional detail of her having been with this guy for 18 months! Hmmmmm! Being tactful, I suggested that she must be disappointed that he wasn’t accompanying her. Of course, she responded yes, and that HIS reason was that he feared for his safety – after all, this is violence riddled Mexico /sarcasm/. She added that she’d first asked me to go with her, THEN him. The optimist in me foolishly thought that perhaps I’d win a couple of ‘brownie points’ for effort, but Mr. Intuition suggested otherwise.

If I’d had a parachute, I think I’d have gone for the emergency exit. Seriously, though the thought of immediately returning home was considered, I also knew that I’d be risking serious scrutiny by U.S. officials upon my return. After all, I’d be returning from Mexico in less than 24 hours from departure. So, I decided to soldier on…to try to make the best out of a bad situation.

Needless to say, the ‘bad’ situation deteriorated. After a three hour car trip (!!!), we finally arrived at her home town. I was certainly met by curious looks from the family. Exhausted from the overnight flight (no sleep), we both settled for naps, though I went to sleep a lot quicker than she. And, apparently, it was during that time that I was introduced as “just a friend.” Upon my awakening, I quickly ventured out to the living room where other family members and friends had gathered.  It was an awkward scene in that neither I nor them could effectively communicate with the other beyond rudimentary English/ Spanish. Seeing that my friend was still asleep, I decided to return to the bedroom I’d been given. That’s when the gossip began.

Upon awakening a second time, imagine walking into a living room filled with inquiring females – beside my friend, her two sisters, three nieces, and a family friend were gathered. The subject of my being childless had been broached, resulting in an unusual initial question of how many kids I desired, followed by a gender preference question. Upon answering those questions, the sisters and the family friend responded – by brainstorming in trying to possibly fix me up with someone they knew. As I observed this, I motioned with a hand to my friend, essentially saying that I was here to be with her. Looking back, I realize that scenario completely flew over my head.

Out of respect for this website, I’ll dispense with the minutiae of the rest – you can probably guess the result anyhow. The next night (Friday) I was quickly relegated to being a third wheel as my friend danced the night away with a “family friend” that she was more-or-less set up to be with during the stay. When I questioned her the following (Saturday) morning, I was accused of having ‘an attitude.’ Later that same evening during both the church service and fiesta for the Quinceanera, my friend ignored me and left me sitting with the family at the family table. I attempted to make the best of the situation by dancing with one of the women that the family attempted to fix me up with – an overweight, yet eager, 20-year-old.

In the meantime, my friend was literally performing surreptitious dances with her ‘new man.’ In other words, they’d see me approach and rapidly break off their dance, walking away in separate directions. Apparently the family felt that I may ‘act out’ in anger and had instructed them to do this. Such a pitiful, tragic turn of events – so unnecessary since it was obvious that what was transpiring was indeed a family affair.

Admittedly, my emotions got the best of me the following (now Sunday) morning. The family had gathered in the living room, reveling in the afterglow of a revered Mexican rite of passage. Some of the revelry was also unbridled loathing of me (though I can’t speak Spanish, I do understand a bit when spoken). Some of this stemmed from the fact that they thought I was hung over from the tequila I drank during the fiesta. But what they saw on my face was merely anger.

I called my friend into the bedroom, closed the door, and stated, “You must really enjoy making me look like a fool in front of your family.” Of course she stammered with a “huh,” to which I responded by merely repeating what I’d said. I then went on to say how I’d taken this chance and had counted on her – probably to my detriment as now knew she’d affected me. I also mentioned that she ‘carry on’ with her Mexico man – by this point, she may well have done so, since I’d heard them kissing in the room next to mine prior to my actually getting up from bed.

After a few minutes, I’d had my say, and let her leave the room. Back to the comfort of her now quiet family, who’d sensed what had just happened. I’m sure her tears influenced their reaction, as well.

There’s really not much to add from this point. The situation was tense, yet I had to remain respectful and somewhat dignified since I was a guest in her relatives’ house. Here I was, in a foreign country, couldn’t speak the language, had no allies, couldn’t leave any sooner than originally planned due to a lack of information resources (no internet) and no transportation for the 3 hour journey back to the airport. I truly felt as if I were a POW.

When Monday finally arrived, I couldn’t wait to leave – nor could my friend, and her new beau. Matter-of-fact, during a conversation at the house, he inquired (in Spanish) as to when I’d be leaving. When she responded “cinco” (five), he responded that he’d be back (for her) at 5:05.

As much as I, by now, loathed this girl, I did pay my respects to her family upon my departure. I’d like to think that perhaps I’d won them over – but they likely pitied me more than anything. The long road journey to the airport, the flight home – all blurs now as I so much wanted to end that nightmare. But, unfortunately, the escapade didn’t quite end there – remember, her car was still at my place, awaiting her return later during the week.

But that, my friends, is another story…

A few years back I was found online by a guy who was a friend of friends in high school, so we knew of each other but didn’t really know each other well. We began talking all the time, usually for hours each night. He told me that the next time he came home he wanted to take me on a date (he was away at a military college). I happily accepted to go on a date with him.

About two weeks before he came home he made a comment about being young and a male and not wanting to tie himself down; this should have been my first red flag. I asked if that meant he was dating other people. He told me that he wasn’t dating anyone, he had talked to a few girls but I was the only one he was taking out when he came home. I liked him a lot and so I, stupidly, overlooked this.

He took me to dinner where we had great conversation and then to a movie. While at the movie he had his arm around me, would rub my back and my shoulders. So, the date itself wasn’t the problem. When he drove me back to my car (parked at the restaurant where we met up) he proceeded to tell me he didn’t want a relationship with me even though he really liked me. When I asked him why, he started telling me about a date he had about a week before he came home. He told me how it was “love at first sight” and he didn’t think it was fair to me to lead me on when he was probably going to date this other girl.

I asked him why he had bother taking me on a date at all when he wasn’t planning on seeing me again. He told me it was because he liked me too and he wasn’t really sure whether he should date the other girl, but that she had sort of forced him to make a decision before he left. So not only was he already dating the other girl, he went on the date with me (which she was annoyed about) then continued to tell me how much he could really like me and thought he should give me a chance.

I told him he was an asshole for leading me on and that no matter how he wanted to look at it, by not telling me he suddenly had a girlfriend he was leading me on. I also told him that if he thought “giving me a chance” was to come on a date with me – when he was already seeing someone – with no intention of actually dating me, then he needed to have his head examined.

When I was about 14/15, my friend introduced me to a guy that she was dating and lost interest in. I thought he was a nice guy and decided to give it a go… hindsight tells me that I was just seriously naïve and so glad I was a prude! I was in high school and had never had a boyfriend. I was feeling left out of everything and was too shy to meet guys on my own, so bless my friend for “handing him over to me on a silver platter,” as she put it. He had just graduated high school. I thought that it was so awesome that he’d be interested in me (go teenage logic!) and was so excited that he wanted to date me, the awkward and slightly socially inept teenager.

In any case, we had a very short relationship – it lasted for all of two or three months, but in the course of that relationship, he had tried unsuccessfully to get in my pants and even tried for a threesome with my friend. I looooved the lines he came up with: “You know, a man judges a woman by her hips when he goes after her. You have child bearing hips.” Um, thank you? And “Virginity is so overrated. You might as well lose it. Sex is so awesome and you’ll love it…especially with me.” I think he also said something about his “formidable package” and how so many women much older than his wise 18 years wanted him. Did I forget to mention that they were all very impressed by his vast and inordinate amount of worldly knowledge (he had never been out of the city, much less the state) and his propensity to speak in English and Spanish (failed out of 1st year Spanish…)? Regardless of his tool bag nature, being as young as I was, I was absolutely heartbroken when he inevitably broke up with me – without telling me. He just changed his phone number and stopped calling.

Fast forward a few months to the “date”.  My friend that introduced us found him working at a Hometown Buffet (food place) and decided to take me to see him without my knowledge. I’m not sure why she did it other than it would be “funny” to see my reaction. Again, I was 15 years old, completely crushed and still licking my wounds from this rejection and a friend with a morbid sense of humor. When we walked in, I saw him and was completely shocked. He was even gaunter and skinnier than I remembered, had grown out his hair, and had some scant amount of wiry something growing out of his chin. I think he meant it as a goatee, but it looked like a few pieces of blonde pubic hair had migrated and made their home on his chin. He was just as shocked to see us and was leery of even talking to us. I most certainly didn’t want to talk to him, but we all met up after because he wanted to talk to me and “tell me something very important.”

After he got out of work, we met him outside in the parking lot to have a chat. He pulled me aside at one point and said, “I’m sorry for dumping you the way I did. I met a girl (while we were dating) and I slept with her a few times. She didn’t tell me this, but she had HIV and she gave it to me. I’ve gotten tested a couple of times and they both came back positive, but I’m okay.”

I was very shocked and didn’t know what to say. He must have taken this as a “good” sign, so he continued. “Anyway, I’ve missed you and want to be with you again. Can we please have sex and sometime soon? I have condoms.” And he proceeded to try and make out with me. Meanwhile, my friend, who was within earshot, came to my rescue and claimed we had a curfew and had to get home.

A few weeks later, he got ahold of my friend and said that he was retested and didn’t have HIV. It was a false positive and that all was well. He asked her if she wanted to go out some time and when she rejected him, he asked for my phone number. Thankfully, she had the sense not to give it to him and I never saw him again.