My VWD was the first date I had with someone I met online. J looked gorgeous in all of his pictures–thick light brown hair, piercing blue eyes and a jaw line of a Greek god. He said he was 29, 6’2″ and “slender.” His profile was charming and artsy–all around perfect. Through our emails, I learned that he was an aspiring photographer. He seemed to be mysterious and eloquent, so when he asked me if I wanted to meet him out for drinks, I was ecstatic.

The night of the date, I was sure to eat beforehand since I didn’t want to be hungry or get tipsy off one beer on an empty stomach. While I was walking to the restaurant, I saw this short, stick skinny guy with reddish brown hair lurking outside. As I peered around him to look for J, I realized: tiny twig-man is J. I drew a deep breath and charged on. He began by telling me that the wait for a table at the restaurant is over and hour long and so he wanted to go to another place. He had parked in the restaurant parking lot, unlike myself who parked a few blocks away to have time to spy on him, so we jumped into his car to go to another restaurant. When I say jumped into his car, I mean he had to clear about 2 inches of solid trash (I mean trash–bits of food, wadded up papers) off of the seat.

Along the two minute drive, we engaged in small talk and about half of the things he said were so fast and quiet that I hardly could hear them. He’d start cracking up at himself immediately after he’d drop a comment, before I could even realize what he had said. We arrived at restaurant 2, where we were seated immediately. When we sat down, he started pouring over the food menu, when I thought that he had just wanted to get drinks. Even though I had already eaten, I wanted to be polite so I ordered a lamb burger and a beer so I wouldn’t have to just sit there staring at him while he ate. He proceeded to tell me that he had never worked a full-time job, was in debt up to his eyeballs, and currently was not working as a photographer but rather as a busboy at the restaurant we were eating at. When I asked him why he wasn’t working as an apprentice for a photographer or something along those lines, he said that he’d rather be working in a restaurant because it was “more entertaining” than photography.

Conversation continued where he went on to berate me for not knowing some obscure doctor that studied male/female sexual interactions (I don’t remember how that one came up), and when the waiter asked if I’d like another beer and I declined, he snorted, “I guess I won’t have another beer either, even though I was planning to have a few.” When the waiter asked if our bills were together or separate, he made a choking noise and looked at me like my hair was on fire, so I told him separate, paid my bill and went my own way.

I didn’t contact him or hear from him for about two months until he sent me the following email…

“Wow, you’re still on Match? You have stamina, girl. Cross my aorta and hope to die, I promise I’m not drunk on anything stronger than organic dark roast coffee. But after vainly looking around for the handbook that would tell me whether it’s permissible to “re-wink” at someone after a summer of silence (should I drop the Rachel Carson metaphor now?), I figured I might as well just do it. Because honestly, every time I drive by your place of employment, I think of you and your curly hair. And your red-blooded *major U.S. city* Irishness. And your magnanimous sense of humor that I ever so mystifyingly failed to follow up on. These images have been forever emblazoned on my mind. Do you remember that seat where we sat in the bygone days of long ago? Emblazoned. That acid taste of Harp so poorly chosen from the beer list? Emblazoned. That lamb burger? I cannot sell one without harkening back to the merry old times. Actually, I can’t sell one ever again, because I’ve switched careers. Merrily. But ah the memories.

Honestly, though, whenever I randomly and invisibly saunter onto Match, I’m moderately annoyed to still see your face there, because it’s a sign that injustice survives in the world. And I don’t like that. I’m all for social justice and it’s like seeing a little missing child on the milk carton. Perhaps if, a) you don’t think my face is ugly, b) I didn’t bore you the first time around, and c) this increasingly weird e-mail hasn’t freaked you out, you would d) care to hang out again? Circle yes or no. Even your dagger rammed through my heart would serve me right.

In any case, I hope, trust, pray, believe and implore that you have had a smashing, beautiful summertime.”

I circled “No.”

Strangely, MVWD started off very nicely. I’d been chatting to a guy online for a few months. Looks-wise he wasn’t my type so I’d always refused his advances. However, he was persistent, not pushy though, and I thought perhaps I’d give him the benefit of the doubt as there’d always been plenty of friendly banter between us and maybe my usual type was where I’d gone wrong.

We went to a pub for dinner and he paid for all our drinks and food–a pleasant change for me as previous dates always went halves. The conversation flowed really well and I found myself quite attracted to his cheeky-chappy and confident personality. I was completely surprised by our chemistry, but pleasantly so and wondered if I’d been wrong all this time to reject him.

On his first trip to the toilet, he sent me a text from the bathroom saying how much he was having fun and didn’t want to go. I thought this was weird–I’m right here, you don’t need to text me! But I decided to ignore it and continue as normal when he came back.

I walked him to the station so he could catch his train home after and he very politely told me he’d had a lovely time and would like to see me again. No sooner had I walked 30 seconds away from the station, I was bombarded by texts off him saying how much he didn’t want to go and could he please stay at mine. I replied that no, we only just met and we should can meet up again another time. He sent me another six texts begging me. Some of them just saying ‘pleeeasse’ and ‘hurrrry upp my trains guna be here soon!’ All sent one after the other.

I continued to say no, he continued to beg, right up until 10 minutes later when I got angry and told him he was being very unfair on me, I’d said no several times and this wasn’t appropriate. His response? He didn’t really want to stay over. He was just testing me to see how easy I was, and now that I’d passed the test he liked me even more. Unsurprisingly, it made me like him a whole lot less.

MVWD  happened my first year of university and happened to be a weekend-long nightmare.

Not having much luck dating I decided to start an online dating profile. One guy, Brian, was from a city nearby and was 25, I was 18. He was cute and we had exchanged a number of really fun and interesting emails. He mentioned that he was coming to my city over Thanksgiving and would love to see me. I was pretty excited to meet Brian and even agreed to let him stay at our place while he was in town (cue embarrassing and naive small-town girl moment).

The weekend was a disaster. It turns out Brian had no real reason for coming to the city other than spending the weekend wandering around our apartment in a tiny silk robe that barely covered the important bits. Given the fact that this man was barely 5 feet tall (a shock to me considering I am 5’10 and his profile indicated he was also 5’10) and was built like a fifth grader, the robe’s coverage issue was quite the surprize. He insisted on sleeping in my room and so I decided to bunk with my roommate, much to his disappointment.

Because he clearly had no other plans and I was totally embarrassed of him we had to leave him in our apartment alone when we went to my sister’s for Thanksgiving dinner. He even had the nerve to answer my personal phone when it rang one morning and he told my sister (who had no idea about our houseguest) that I couldn’t talk because I was still “sweetly sleeping”.

Despite his many efforts, I refused to touch him in anyway as his child’s body did nothing to rev my engine. It was a humiliating weekend and nothing made me happier than to watch him leave.

I had been online dating for about site months when X contacted me through the site. She didn’t have a photo on her profile, but that didn’t bother me as the reason that many women on those sites don’t post pictures is usually weight related and that’s not one of my hangups. We talked on the phone a few times and then moved to instant messaging. She had a desk job and I am the owner of a small company and I use instant messaging almost constantly as a means to communicate quickly with my vendors. It should be noted here that my screen name is the name of my company.

By the end of the second day, we were IMing almost three hours at a time. She had a quick wit, and a really sarcastic sense of humor, which I love. However, she had an annoying way of dropping names as she “had a friend who worked at a radio station” and was always getting backstage and meeting these huge stars. Many of her stories sounded like exaggerations, but I liked her energy. By the third day, I wasn’t in my office until late morning, and noticed that she had IM’ed me 10 times asking, “Are you there? Are you there?” Work was really busy that day, so I never got a chance to respond to her IMs.

Later in the afternoon, my receptionist came into my office and said that there were two ladies with a question that she couldn’t help them with. So I went up to the front desk and spoke with these two women who were asking some sort of vague real estate question that I did my best to answer. After they left, I thought nothing of it. On my way home, I stopped at the grocery store, and in the dairy section were the same two girls. I said hello, and asked if they were ever able to figure out the answer to their real estate question, and the shorter girl said that she did end up finding the answer. I told them to have a great evening and I went on my way to the register.

Later, at my house, I logged on to the dating site to see if I had any new hits, there were two more women who had contacted me so I messaged both of them back to say hello. The first one instant messaged me back almost immediately. We went through the regular items, first name, age, how far away do you live, when out of the blue she typed back, “It was nice meeting you today.” I was completely clueless to what was happening here. “Huh? I said. She replied, “this is X, I just couldn’t wait to meet you, so I came to your office and also followed you to the grocery store.” I told her to never, ever contact me again. I said some other things as well, but that’s not relevant to the story.

It’s funny, I’m 6’2” and about 225 lbs, and have been through a lot of things in my life, so not much scares me, but that 5’1” psycho sent a terrifying chill up my spine with that last message.

I met a guy online and after a week or so of email and texts we agreed to meet up. We met up at a bar/restaurant that happened to have a live band that night and there was a $5 cover charge. As I was reaching into my purse to grab money to pay it, my date said “$5! F*** this, we’re not staying!” I followed him out and we quickly agreed to go to another bar that was less than 2 minutes away. He offered to drive me, but I insisted on taking my own car, especially after his “I’m a millionaire, why would I want to kidnap you comment?” After getting to the other bar, we order drinks and start talking. First, he talked about his brother for a good 15 minutes, showing me pics and talking about how his brother was so awesome and such a great catch. Second, He knew certain details about my life, i.e I was divorced and had a child, and began a tirade about everything that is wrong about such thing. “People who get married young are stupid. People who get divorced are stupid. People who have kids are stupid.” I think you get the idea. After about five minutes of this, I threw down a $20 and told him not to contact me ever again. As I was walking out I heard him call out “You sure $20 is enough?”

My Very Worst Date consisted a string of two dates. Safe to say, I don’t learn my lesson easily. The guy was someone I met on Match.com. He was very persistent in his attempt to get me to go on a date with him despite my better judgment. 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 unleashed the comment 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 about 30 minutes from my date asking 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. I got a message on Facebook from him over a year and a half later and told me that he had “finished himself off” to the image of me four times in one day. Safe to say, I blocked him.

After seeing the millionth commercial for a popular dating site, I figured I’d try my luck. Got lots of emails, IMs, but nothing ever seemed to go past the online stage and most of the guys lived in the next state. I was feeling discouraged and ready to delete my profile when one night I got a message from someone local, who had actually read my profile. After a few witty IMs back and forth, he asked if I wanted to meet for a drink at a nearby pub.

I was so psyched. Someone wanted to meet in person! His profile seemed promising–recently back from touring the US, taking pictures for his new photography website. I love to travel so thought we’d have something to talk about. His height was an inch shorter than me, and although I like to wear heels figured I’d rock some cute ballerina flats…and off to the pub I went.

Walked in, smiled at the doorman…looking…looking…and I hear “Hi!” Look down…about seven inches down…and there he his. Short. I mean about as tall as a 12-year-old. Like I wouldn’t notice?  But I smiled sweetly, shook hands and we got a table. And then it went bad… “touring the US” meant “I’ve been living in my car since I lost my job last year and my girlfriend dumped me.” Granted, he had actually driven through (and slept in his car in) 47 of the 50 states. But no interesting stories! And I tried – any good meals? Crazy weather? Meet any “characters?”And the super-hot photography career? Taking pictures on his iPhone for his MySpace page. And I got to see all 900 of them.

After an awkward and boring hour I said my goodbyes, only to get a text the next day. Problem was I was in class so didn’t get the first “Had a great time – would love to see you again” text and by the time class was over got the “who the eff do you think you are not responding to me!!!!” texts.

No more online dating for me:-(

My Very Worst Date was on Valentine ’s Day of 2010. I had met the guy online and we had chatted extensively and got along really well. He asked if I wanted to do dinner and a movie, to which I said yes. I asked where I should meet him, and he told me I could park by his place as there were lots of places nearby. When I met him, all seemed well, he was what I expected.

He asked if I would come in for a little bit before we went out. When in there, he, in his extreme nervousness, began talking and talking. I was immediately turned off by his vulgar language, especially when meeting a girl for the very first time! His general demeanor and language quickly had me deciding that I would simply get through the date, then leave and be done with it.

Then we began talking about people we both knew, and when I mentioned an event which took place in 1999 involving a mutual friend, he commented he had been in jail at that time. Upon seeing the look on my face he said, “Ooh don’t worry, I’m not a criminal or anything, it was just something stupid I did when I was young.” This confirmed that we definitely would not be having a second date.

About 10 minutes later, he made mention of how he got out of jail in 2002. Quick math told me that three years in jail is no small time “I was young” offence! When I asked him what he was in jail for, he responded “armed robbery and attempted murder” as if it was nothing! About five minutes later, when he asked if I was ready to go for dinner I said that I think I was just going to go home and bolted.

On the way out, he said to me, “Was it really that bad? I’ve never had anyone leave this fast.”

About this time last year, I had been single for about a year and bored. At 29, the dating pool continues to get smaller and smaller, so I signed up for a free dating site and started communicating with a few guys here and there. One guy, C, struck my fancy as he was an admitted fan of the Harry Potter series. He we exchanged emails and texts, then phone calls where we chatted about books, movies, and his lack of understanding of the culture of the Southeastern US (he was from New York, but had moved down South way for a job). His banter was witty, and I was ecstatic to have met a man who appreciated my love for all things Harry Potter. That should have been my dreaded first “red flag” but I was too excited to think about what that could really mean. His picture was decent, his profile claimed he was 30, 5’11″ (I’m 5’8″ so height is always an issue), and he worked in IT. I excitedly agreed to meet him in person after a week of communication.

He chose the location - the bar at Chili’s for drinks. There are plenty of fun bars and restaurants in our city, but I agreed thinking maybe he wanted something quaint. I arrived late on purpose, so that I could scope him out from the hostess area. I had never done this before, and I was so nervous! I saw him sitting at the bar, one empty beer infront of him and a fresh one waiting. I couldn’t judge his height, but he was heavier than he had claimed, and was wearing a trenchcoat. I decided not to judge, as I am an eccentric dresser, and I had worn something typical of my taste myself to be sure that he knew right off who I was. I walked up to him in my Flashdance-esque sweatshirt, leggings, and furry boots and the first words out of his mouth were “Nice Chewbacca boots…are you serious with those?! You must be M.” Alright – strike 1, you insulted my favorite pair of shoes in our first 5 seconds of meeting.

I brushed it off and started chatting…and discovered quickly that his love for Harry Potter was much more extensive than mine had ever been! He quizzed me on HP knowledge while he slugged beer after beer. I kept up with the trivia until he asked me “Who is Zacharias Smith?” I replied that I couldn’t place that character and he LAUGHED IN MY FACE and said “I had obviously not read the books.” Strike 2. We stood up to go outside and have a smoke and he was short. Like all of 5’5″ (and very stocky), and he smoked three cigarettes in a row while I had only one, and begged me to stay outside with him so he could finish even though it was late December and 25 degrees out! Strike 3. And yet I went back for more. We went back inside and he continued to drink and started to seem a bit drunk, then began telling me about how he’s been an active participant in Dungeons and Dragons since he was a kid, and how he was looking for a lady to “participate” with him in more ways than one. Gross.

At this point, I resolved that I had had enough deception. I asked for my check and said I needed to go home to let my dog out. He insisted on paying for my two beers, then hurriedly got up to follow me out, at which time he tripped off the barstool and fell on his face, then got up and hustled outside behind me, yelling that he had been “OVERSERVED!” He asked me if he could come home with me and I could be his “Hermoine.” I gave him a card for a cab company and headed for my car, hearing him yelling after me that I was “too big for him anyway!” I think from now on I’ll choose men who like more adult literature and games…

Okay, since the festive season is upon us of varying faiths, I submit my “Raging Rabbi” date.

As I have stated previously in another story, I did the internet dating thing for awhile. I have always preferred guys on the mature side.  I was in mid-forties so someone 15 yrs older was not out of the question.

So the Rabbi:

We hit it off well on an intellectual level it seemed. He being a scholar of religion and me being an avid reader of various faiths and a great deal of astrophysics, quantum physics etc. (laymen’s books) and how it all began from a miniscule singularity. I tend to lean toward a more scientific explanation, but I am no atheist. Spiritually Agnostic is the category I place myself.

Anyhow, we met for dinner and of course he was nothing like his photo, but I was getting used to the fact the nobody ever is and proceeded with our dinner date. The topic turned to religion of course and things were rather lively. Suddenly after that one-too-many glasses of wine on his part, he turned very ugly. He called me stupid, ignorant and blasted me for my take on things. My jaw hit the floor, I was totally stunned by this sudden change in character.

He then stated he’d had enough of my bullshit and got up and walked out of the restaurant. He did not pay the bill, not even his share! I was willing to go dutch and had said so in the beginning, but he insisted it would be his treat. So there I was at 11:30 p.m. at night stuck with no ride and a pricey dinner bill. I had no choice but to pay for it and I used money that was for my rent to cover it.

I left the restaurant to make a call for a cab at a phone just outside the door. Well, that phone was out of order and I decided to go to the pub across the road to call. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the Rabbi sitting in his car watching me. I pretended to ignore him and went on my way to the pub.

He never followed, thankfully. There were a bunch of instant messages when I arrived home continuing to berate me for my stupidity. I blocked and deleted him from my chat program,

However the following day I received this email at another addy I had given him, I never responded:

> Dear C,

> I am very sorry about what happened on Sunday night. I am really

> upset about it. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me I would

> like to start over with you and forget Sunday night. The truth is that you

> are a very smart and intelligent well read woman, that has a lot to offer

> any man that is lucky enough to know you. Please do try to forgive me. I

> like you and think if we can put a side what happened we could have a

> great deal of fun. If you do agree with me than send me a e-mail on yahoo

> or to my e-mail address and let me know when I can call you. Again please

> for give me. I would be very very sorry to lose you as a friend and potential lover.

> A

I saved this email to remind me that you can never be sure what awaits on the other side of the computer screen and how utterly unpredictable people can be.