It Was Never Meant To Be
“I went to breakfast with a total jerk. First, he yelled at the waiter after the waiter spilled a little bit of orange juice on MY side of the table. It wasn’t a big deal, but he made a scene yelling at the waiter and telling him he wasn’t going to get a tip. Poor waiter, you could tell he was a little slow (grrrr…. I should have done more). Breakfast was okay aside from him trying to convince me to go back to his place afterward. After finishing his meal, he decided he wanted more. Instead of waiting for the waiter to come back, he went back to the kitchen area and yelled, ‘Can I get some effing service over here, you mother effers!’ I had had enough. I went up to register, paid the bill, and took off.”
The Best Dates Don’t End In Handcuffs
“We met at a diner and drank coffee for 15 minutes. The next part of our date required us to drive somewhere in her car. As soon as I sat down in the passenger seat, I was overcome with the most powerful, foulest mildew odor that ever existed. ‘Sorry about the smell,’ she said. ‘I left my windows open in the rain.’
We drove a half block and approached a four-way stop. She definitely did not have the right of way; a cop to our right did. Despite this, she gassed it through the intersection and turned left, meaning the cop she had just cut off (and almost had an accident with) was now driving behind us.
He pulled us over. As soon as he walked up to the car, she said to him, ‘What?! I didn’t do anything!’ He asked for her license and registration. Over the next two minutes, it was determined she didn’t have either of those, nor did she have insurance, a sticker on her license place, a city sticker, or anything else she needed to drive legally.
He told us to follow him to the police station. We pulled up in the parking lot and the cop walked up to the car, told her to get out, put handcuffs on her, and took her away. I sat there in the mildew for a couple minutes, not sure of what I should do but eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore and left. The whole date lasted about 25 minutes and I never spoke to her again.”
She’s Into Crazy Violence
“I picked a girl up at the mall and we went back to my house.
We started watching a movie and she jumped me. I said, ‘Whoa, hey there, just FYI I’m not in the market for a girlfriend. So if that upsets you, I can take you home, no hard feelings. If you still want to fool around, that’s great. And if you don’t want to fool around but you aren’t upset, let’s watch the movie and hang out.’
She was all, ‘Nuh-uh let’s do it.’
About 10 minutes in, she bit my arm. It hurt a little but I was okay. Then she really got into it. I was in searing, awful pain.
‘Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.’
I kept going at it, but it hurt like crazy. She bit harder, I pulled out.
Her: ‘What? I’m really into pain. And biting.’
Me: ‘I’m not. I can’t do it if you’re going to bite me like that.’
Her: ‘Okay. I’ll stop.’
And so I got back to pounding away but before too long, she was at it again. I stopped again and we both agreed she’s not going to bite me anymore.
So I was pounding away again and she started biting me. Again. So I pulled out the moment I feel teeth. Except this time when I pulled out, she did stop biting me. She started biting me harder. And harder.
Her jaw was clamped down on my arm so hard I’m sure she was breaking the skin. I was going to have a bruise and at the moment, I was in an unbelievable amount of pain. I made a fist with my free hand and put it in front of her face.
Me: ‘I don’t hit people. I hate violence. But I don’t know what else do to. If you don’t let go of my arm I’m going to hit you in the head as hard as I can. I’m going to count to three. One. Two.’
I paused. I really didn’t want to hit her. Hitting a woman? In the middle of hooking up? That feels awful. I felt like a terrible person. But however bad I felt morally, the pain in my arm was so much worse. And so. ‘Three.’
I pulled back with my free hand and punched her in the side of her head as hard as I could. I felt relief in my free arm as I closed my eyes, sick over what I’d just done but so glad she’s off my arm. Except?
It’s like the feeling you get when you’re expecting cold water to pour out of the faucet onto your hands but get scalding hot instead. For a split second, it feels right, but then strange and suddenly oh so wrong.
She never let go of my arm. And she was moaning. In ecstasy.
I went limp and waited for her to let go. It didn’t take long after I’ve stopped resisted, stopped struggling, stopped fighting her. She lost interest.
I told her I was taking her home as I put on my clothes.”
It Was The Terrible Date That Just Wouldn’t End
“I am a pretty avid runner and one of my biggest hobbies is Hashing, or Hash running (basically just drinking and running for fun) I had just completed a hash run one faithful afternoon back in April and was sitting around and drinking with the others when I noticed a newbie (new hasher). She was a cute, Greek chick and I had somehow missed her during the run, we will call her ‘Jenny.’ Well, Jenny was a recent transfer from New York and we fell into a conversation for about an hour. Once the conversation came to an end, I got up and got into my vehicle to go meet some friends at a local bar. As I was about to drive away, Jenny tapped on my window and asked if she could tag along. Considering I had the choice of drinking with four guys or four guys and a girl, I chose the latter. We drove off and I suppose this is where my story actually begins.
About 10-15 minutes into the trip, we were making polite conversation and everything seemed fine; she seemed to enjoy hashing, drinking, some nerd culture and seemed chill. I don’t know what prompted it, but I turned to look at her for a moment and she smirked and said something I will never forget:
‘So, when are you going to attack and ravage me?’ She said this with a giggle.
I am the first to admit that I have a pretty odd sense of humor, but this actually threw me for a loop. I stared at her for a moment and, after regaining my composure, I said, ‘Well, to be honest, I was going to wait until the second date, at least.’
She smiled and replied, ‘Well that’s good because I always carry a knife.’ At this point I was thoroughly perplexed. I wondered if this is a real-life troll, a crackpot or some chick with a really odd sense of humor.
I shook it off and said, ‘Well I guess it’s a good thing you are wearing running shorts and have no pockets, haha.’ I now believed this conversation to be over. Unfortunately, I was wrong.
Her next reply was, ‘Well I’m a girl, I don’t need pockets, I could hide it anywhere.’
An older, wiser, soberer me may have pushed her out of my car at this point and drove off, but I was none of those things at the time. The next few minutes passed without incident as I feverishly tried to process what the heck was going on and began to wonder if Greece’s main export was crazy. As my cogs turned, I heard a cork pop, something unmistakable but rather odd to hear in a car driving down the interstate. I looked over and see her sitting in my passenger seat, chugging a bottle of vino I had won in a race earlier that week. After downing about half of it, she stopped and offered some to me, I took a sip and realized two things:
1. This is a bad idea and,
2. While drinking, at least she isn’t talking or knifing me.
I said nothing and allowed her to finish while I got off of the interstate, found the bar and parked.
As we sat in the parking lot of the first bar, I called my friends to see where they were and she finishes off the bottle. Unfortunately for me, my friend is a flake and decided to no longer answer his phone. I, noticing that my cohort was done drinking and about to begin chatting, nervously suggested we go inside and order a drink until he called me back. I should note that this bar is slightly upscale, more of a mixed drink and top-shelf establishment than I am familiar with (as a broke new college grad).
As we stepped in, we noticed that there was some kind of social gathering going on in the bar area and we were clearly underdressed (t-shirt/jeans and covered in flour vs. button-ups and collared shirts.). I really didn’t want to go back into the car with this chick at the moment, so I sucked it up, found two bar chairs and ordered us some drinks. We sat there in silence for a few minutes before we began conversing again. Surprisingly, the conversation this time around went much smoother and there was no mention of assaults, weapons or secret compartments. I learned about her family, that she is going to law school and is quite lonely. We talked at length and ordered a couple of drinks without incident until I finally received a call back from my friend. He had relocated to a new bar and wanted to know if I’d meet him there. I agreed, paid the tab, and prepared to leave, all while thanking Odin that we made it through this bar without incident.
It turns out, Odin wasn’t pleased.
As I put on my jacket, Jenny stood up, turned 180 degrees, then fell face first onto the floor. There was no tripping, no attempt to catch herself or brace, it was a straight nose dive. I will remind you of the social gathering currently going on around us and the decor of this establishment at this time. I was stunned. Furthermore, as people turned to look at us (about 100-120) they saw a girl face down on the ground and me with my arms up, looking as if I decked her (I had just gotten my jacket on). Within moments, there were 10-15 people (myself included, I’m not that terrible), gathered around Jenny, trying to see if she was ok. As we turned her over, she was smiling as she bled from the nose and mouth, confidently telling everyone she was ok. I quickly ushered her out the door and into the car as people followed us, asking if she was ok and if I hit her. Once in the car, I threw it into drive and sped to the next bar, naively believing that things couldn’t get worse…
As we headed to the next bar Jenny quickly began to show renewed interest in hooking up. I’m not sure if it’s the scent of blood or fear, that turned her on, but she kept trying to climb on my lap and grab my junk as we drove the 2.3 miles to the next bar. Upon arriving, she seductively pulled her shorts down to show she had no underwear on and asked if I still wanted to go to the bar. Normally, I’d submit, however, the traces of blood on her face and the fact that I did not want her to know I lived a mere three miles away quickly convinced me to decline the offer. Instead of a hot, crazy and possibly murderous hookup, we headed into the bar.
Once inside, I quickly located my roommate and friends and thanked Odin again for delivering me safely. After the initial introductions, I went to the bar and ordered some brews for us both (remember, more drinking = less crazy stuff coming out of her mouth). We got our drinks and took up a small 4-person table near the pool table. As we sat there, I slowly started to calm down and think that maybe it would all be ok. We were in a public place and I knew friends there, what could go wrong? It was at this moment that she decided she was not entirely happy with the bar and drinks there. With a banshee scream, Jenny transformed into a she-hulk. She took a swing at the table and knocked everyone’s drinks/water/food off and then turned around and flipped the table over. I, being the one person drinking my drink at the time, thus sparing it from destruction, took a moment to consider what just happened. My friends were stunned, as was the rest of the bar. Meanwhile, Jenny ran into the restroom while crying. I polished off my brew in a few gulps and walked over to pay my tab just as the bouncer came over to inform me that I must leave with MY DATE. It took about 15 minutes of coaxing to get Jenny to leave the bathroom and come with me, which was actually longer than I got to spend with my friends at the stupid bar. Jenny and I hopped into the car and left.
This final bit is a bit of a blur, it happened somewhere between 11:30 pm and 1:00 am. I finally began to wise up and realize I need to get rid of this girl. Her yelling, ‘Take me home you mother[bleep]!’ may have had something to do with this decision. That said, I must admit that I was getting mixed messages. Jenny had now progressed to a point that she had three separate stages of interaction. Lust, hate, and sorrow. As I drove down the interstate, she would alternate between trying to punch me in the face, to climbing on my lap and unbuttoning my pants/grabbing my junk, to crying in the corner floorboard. These actions were cyclical and each happened about seven or eight times before I realized that I did not have enough gas to take her home.
Finally, 10 miles and 15 minutes later (it’s a long trip when you are fighting/kissing/consoling a crazy chick), we reached the gas station I was looking for. I hopped out and begin to pump my gas. About 45 seconds later, I heard my car door shut and saw her briskly walking into the service station. ‘OK,’ I thought to myself, ‘Maybe she needed something to drink.’ I finished and then walked inside after her to see if she was still ok. As I walked in, I heard ‘Taxi!’ and quickly realized that she was phoning a ride home. Instantly relieved, I was also feeling a bit remorseful about dragging her out her into this. I, realizing I have a debit card but no wallet on me (from paying for gas), went over to the ATM and withdrew $20. I handed it to her and told her that I apologize for the night and told her to go home. I then walked out of the store and to my car. As I opened up my car door, I heard another car door shut behind me. As I turned, I saw a van drive off and noticed that Jenny was no longer inside the gas station. To cut it down, Jenny decided to take a ride with a random stranger instead of waiting for her taxi. I jumped in my car and gassed it home. Once home, I realized that I no longer had my wallet in my pocket, it was in my jacket where I put it after I took my debit card to pay for gas. After some searching, I ouind the wallet, empty, under the passenger seat as well as my GPS gone. $40 and a gift card were gone, but my ID and charge card was there. Being supremely ticked off, I decide to go to bed.
It was four months before I saw Jenny again and she didn’t expect me to show up for the running group it seemed. After avoiding her for 30 minutes, I finally say ‘Hi’ and ask how she was. After some coaxing, she ‘remembered’ having my GPS in her car still and returned it. Unfortunately, I had purchased another by this time. However, I still retrieved my GPS, told her that I could not party with her anymore, and walked away. I have not seen her since.
Greek Psychotic sleaze (G.P.S), I salute you and thank you for this story. Best of luck, you crazy woman, and I hope to see you on trail eventually.”
The Guy Couldn’t Take No For Answer
“So I was 15 and on my first proper ‘date’ with this guy who I had met through a camp thing. I was totally giddy in a 15-year-old way, that there was finally this guy who liked me and actually wanted to go on a date with me. Going to an all girls school, I had no real experience with guys, so this was a pretty big deal for me.
Anyway, so we got to the movies. He insisted on buying my ticket and we went in. Now as soon as the lights went down, his hands started wandering. Lots of chest groping and kissing my neck. Keeping in mind that I had never kissed a boy at this stage, I freaked out. I was really uncomfortable, but I really wanted him to like me, so I put up with it. Time passed and he got more forward. His hands started to unbutton my jeans. Now I knew that was a line I didn’t want him to cross, so I said no. He kept on trying, I said no. Cue 10 minutes of him trying to get his hands into my pants, with me trying to get him to stop. Eventually, the movie finished and we parted ways. I got home and cried myself to sleep.”
This Woman Is All Over The Place!
“I’m a young college student finishing up my undergrad and have never been one to be up to snuff with the ladies. I’ve had a couple of girlfriends, mostly in high school, who lasted no more than a few months in every case.
I have today, however, been on arguably one of the most insane dates in the history of fuzzy bumping. Although it’s very personal, I have decided that, for science, the story must be told.
I had a lab partner last year who became very fond of me and my stoned cynicism throughout the course of the year. She began following me between classes and asking me to hang out very frequently. I was never more than mildly fond of her but she was always very pleasant.
This girl moved away for the summer and I stayed in the city in which we met. During the few summer months that I didn’t see her, I received countless texts about her wanting to see me so I thought it proper to take her out to dinner when she was back in town tonight.
We went to a local sushi place and she proceeds to order $40 worth of sushi (at a place that costs $3 per roll, yes I’m cheap) and regale me with stories of her insane mother who faked a divorce the day before her birthday in order to gain sympathy from her family. Three hours passed and I had scarfed down a few pieces of sushi while she took a break to order dessert, even after I have made it clear that I have been full for the past twenty minutes.
After berating the waiter for being late and me for not eating anything and making her feel fat, she consumed the ice cream she’d ordered and we left. All the while, she made comments about how the waiter was giving us funny looks even though he had been completely courteous the entire time.
Immediately after walking out the door of the restaurant, she demanded that we go back to my house until I finally convinced her that I wouldn’t have it ( using the excuse that the place was dirty because I had just moved in ). Eventually, I agreed to go to her place for a while to settle things.
Upon arrival, she began a tirade about her explicit adventures in online games while away from school and asked for advice about an online relationship she was having with a guy with a kid from another state that went awry. She paused only to mention her terrible eczema and change into something ‘more comfortable’ to show me her scars.
Less than an hour after leaving, she informed me via text that she had feelings for me and for some stupid reason (Maybe to get my $40?) I agreed to come back over. I picked up a DVD from the local Redbox on a whim and sped over to her place, all the while contemplating where the sushi had disappeared to several hours earlier.
After arriving, we popped in the movie and I sat there in the dark with my arm around her for twenty minutes or so before she stood up, turned on the lights and proclaimed in a stern tone that things didn’t feel right and she wanted me to leave.
I drove to the store and bought the only things I could afford to stop me from thinking thoughts, a 40 oz of Mickey’s and a pack of salsa verde chips.”
His Buddy Hangs Him Out To Dry
“I’d been going over to a friend of mine’s place to eat and hang out for a week or so when I realized that she had a crush on me. She was a great girl in many ways but wildly hormonal, very loud and weighed at least 300lbs, which is not my bag. A couple of times after we’d been out, she had tried to prevent me from leaving her apartment and it was becoming more and more difficult to get away from her clutches or think up excuses as to why I couldn’t spend the night.
So, this one night, I arranged for my flatmate to accompany us so that he could aid me in my escape at the allotted time (he was well aware of her proclivity to cause immense scenes if thwarted). We went to the pub and ended up back at her place where she proceeded, once again, to get me to stay the night. At a pre-arranged signal, my flatmate was supposed to phone a cab and have the front door open and ready so that I could leap into it once she started getting too hot and heavy (with the emphasis on heavy).
As she got up to go into the kitchen, I signaled my mate who dutifully phoned the cab and went outside to wait for it. She saw him leaving and used this as a cue to wrap her stuff around me, assuming I had gotten rid of him so that we could be alone. Despite my protests, she wouldn’t let go but, after a couple of minutes of sweaty struggling, I managed to break free and headed for the door with her in hot pursuit. I burst through it and grabbed the handle of the front door and try to turn it but it won’t budge. Hearing laughter from outside, I looked through the door window to see my mate hanging onto the handle from the other side. I was screaming and swearing at him for what felt like hours, but was probably only seconds, before he relented and we made our escape into the night.”
Traveling Miles For The Psycho Stuff
“About a year or so ago, my best friend was visiting from out of town (he lives in Seoul, I live in Osaka) for the weekend and we decided to go up to Nara, the first ‘permanent’ capital of Japan, about an hour away by train. Now, at that time, there had been a guy begging me to come up and go out on a date with him for a few months and since he lived in Nara, I thought it’d be a good chance to meet him. It was an internet thing and I figured having my best friend with me would help keep the potential psycho stuff to a minimum.
I was horribly mistaken. The psycho stuff came out in full force. He was about fifteen or twenty years older than his pictures, resembled a skinny, borderline schizophrenic, shaved Master Splinter from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and wore a long ‘Yes, I am in the Matrix’ black trench coat. Both my best friend and I, once he had his back turned to walk us to the restaurant, exchanged a look of ‘what the heck did we get ourselves into?’ We quickly found out as he started in on the most insane bad English conversation possible with us, drank one glass of vino and got flush red but ONLY on his multitudinous acne scars, which gave him a very Freddy Kruger kind of vibe.
Luckily, the guy fancied my (male) best friend a lot more, so I was able to just sit back, drink copious amounts (which he paid for) and enjoyed watching my worst date ever unfold in front of me as if in a dream.
My best friend wasn’t pleased. But, he also didn’t have a lot of money for his vacation, as I reminded him, and dinner and drinks in Japan aren’t cheap. He still wasn’t pleased.”
Have You Heard The Good News?
“This happened in 2003. A fairly attractive girl asked me out while I was at work. I agree to meet up with her at an Italian restaurant.
We got there and it’s totally normal. Halfway through the date she reaches into her purse and said, ‘I brought you a gift!’ Score, right!?! The Book of Mormon comes out and she starts telling me about their divine history.
Partway through, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. I walked around to the bar and told the bartender how my first date was unfolding. He bought me a shot and showed me where to exit out through the kitchen.”
It Got Violent Before The Date Started
“This is the story of the worst date that I watched unfold, only it happened to my mother.
When I was 13, my twice-divorced mother was a recovering smack addict and we lived in welfare assisted apartments. She believed that she could never date above her class and so began going out with other recovering addicts and drinkers. That is, until she met Gary, a non-drinking, non-smoking, never does substances sort of guy.
Gary was a checker at the local Raley’s supermarket. I’d seen him a few times, he was always friendly to me and my mom and when she told me she had made a Saturday breakfast date with him, I thought it might be a good idea. After all, this guy had a job so that made him WAY better than anyone else who had traipsed through our apartment in a long time. She’d have her date and I’d go to baseball practice.
Gary showed up an hour and 45 minutes late for their date. My mom had already called his house twice and canceled (this story takes place before mobile phones) because she was hungry and decided to leave on her own. When he got there, my mom had already changed out of ‘date clothes’ and we were on our way out. She decided to go change back into her other clothes and left Gary and me alone.
Gary was wasted. Totally blasted. It was only 9:45 am. He told me he was so nervous about going out with my mom that he fell off the wagon and drank a half a bottle in his truck after he left his house. Then he started crying. My mom came downstairs and saw him hugging me and sobbing his eyes out. They sat down on the couch to talk and I sat in front of my computer on the opposite side of the room. Gary told her everything that had transpired and then yelled, ‘AND THAT LITTLE JERK (me) DOESN’T EVEN CARE!’
Then he picked up the baseball from my mitt and beaned me in the back of the head.”