We love Alex, so we feel for him on this dating app mishap that is one step away from ending More »
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Category Archives: First Date
#TBT to our last Bad Date Great Story show!
When MOTH winner Brian Kennedy moved to Minneapolis post-college, he was excited to meet a man who could show him the ropes. Phil seemed like the perfect guy to do so–until their “tour” of Minneapolis took an unexpected turn.
Next show is at The Bitter End on Oct 3rd! Hope to see you there!
We were supposed to meet at the Dust Bowl, the only place in Alice Springs where you can eat ‘gourmet’ pizza, consume alcohol and play glow in the dark ten pin bowling with 90’s music video clips screening on the walls. The combination of alcohol, novelty sports and R Kelly’s life sized crooning face would have created ideal first date vibes if the Dust Bowl was open. It wasn’t, so we went to Lasseters Casino, aptly named after a doomed explorer who went searching for gold in the central desert only to perish penniless and alone.
My first alarm bell should have been that I had to give him a lift. I learnt that his license had been suspended for drunk driving. Excessive drinking = second alarm bell. He laughed at my suggestion that he get a bike. Mockery of bikes = third warning bell.
Some nights at the casino they pull a curtain in front of the bay marine (You know, the thing which they serve fish/steak/chicken and chips out of?) and push the dinner tables back. Two lasers, some party lights and a DJ booth on wheels turn a casino restaurant into a little slice of Sydney. Some locals flock there on Friday nights with straight hair and high heels to try and pretend they don’t live in a small town in the middle of the desert. Unfortunately, that night it was footy night, so there was no dance floor.
As we waited for our meat + chips I learnt that he’d just come out of a three year relationship (seriously, how many warning bells did I think I needed?) and that he’d ‘left some trouble behind in Tasmania.’ The trouble wasn’t the fact that his ex girlfriend was trying to take him to court over a shed they jointly owned, but that he had already missed two appearances in court for his drunk driving. So he was trying to figure out how to reapply for a new drivers license without having to TRAVEL INTERSTATE TO APPEAR IN COURT. I tried to sympathise with his quandary, I really did. Oh, and yes, it’s possible to jointly own a shed.
So when he noticed his mother on a nearby table, I wasn’t embarrassed; I waved her over to join us. She turned out to be a lovely woman who was also on a date. When he went to the bathroom she asked me if I thought he was a spunk! Solidarity! Her (totally spunky) date paid for another round of drinks and chips and we had a great old time. Well, for another 40 minutes, then I realized that as much as I liked my new BFF, I wasn’t on a date with her, I was on a date with her son, who hadn’t said or done anything in the last 40 minutes but stare sullenly into his empty plate of chips. I drove him home and left my BFF to enjoy the rest of her date. I never saw my BFF again but I was happy that lovely women existed in the world and I was glad that one of us was having a great date with a spunk.
Bio: Desertdates has cuddled a carpenter in his Magic Bus, been swept off her feet by a breakdancing Mormon and a Lao puppeteer, had her Grandmother question her sexuality, been on the world’s shortest ever date and double dated somebody’s mother. She is 27, lives in a small town in Western Australia, and has lived in small towns all of her life. For the last few years her work has meant that those small towns have been in pretty remote desert places, like Alice Springs. Sounds exotic, eh? Kinda. But the manscape has been thus far fairly sparse and the blokes she’s dated have been fairly interesting to say the least. She is a Horseriding Fisherwoman, constantly Getting Back On The Horse and fishing for those Plenty More Fish In The Sea. She’s going to canter along on that damned horse whilst casting her fishing rod out into a nearby river, or sit on a horse on a fishing trawler. Either way, she’s not giving up and hopefully her unfortunate stories will at least amuse people along the way.
After a month on Match.com I finally agreed to meet my first Match.com human.
Periodically throughout the day of the date I wondered if it was my last day alive. What if I had been matched with a serial killer? What if Shane West turned out to be Steve Buscemi?
I left his contact information on my bed side table where the cops would easily see it should I never return – along with it was a request for my life leading to this moment to be turned into a Lifetime Original Movie.
Spoiler: I’m alive.
27. Fisherman. Never married. No Kids. 6’1”. Has a dog. Studied at the University of Hawaii.
Things I knew:
– He likes to work out. Shit. Good thing I can at least say I joined a gym, he doesn’t have to know my spin classes are only three minutes long.
– He and his dog are best friends.
– His favorite food is sushi. So, we’ll never go out to eat together, not a deal breaker. Or, we could always go to Sushi and I just won’t eat which will help my diet. I like this.
– He taught his dog to chase his sister’s cat. Soul mate?
– He says the F word more times a day than me.
– He owns a boat. Good thing the water around here is currently frozen so he can’t take me out and drown me. Cabin by the Lake?
– He hashtags. #winner
– He wants to have a moose farm when he retires. I should have paid more attention to the things I knew.
– He eats McDonald’s. And, it doesn’t go straight to his ass – at this point I’m assuming I’m about to go on a date with a Greek God.
– He likes tequila.
Things that should have concerned me:
– His dog’s name is Beaver.
– Last read: Fifty Shades of Grey
– The only running he has done in the last decade has been from the cops.
– He knows how to use a gun.
– He picks up hitchhikers.
– He’s a snowboarder.
– He’s confident someone with the IQ of 50 could do his job.
– His grammar.
– His spelling. I’ve never heard of the Supper Bowl.
– After the Super Bowl he was hung-over for two days. By 27 did you mean 45?
– The first time he asked me out was for Valentine’s Day. Sorry, I already had plans to get drunk.
Preparing for my date
I thought about going to a self-defense class but who has time for that? I’m pretty confident that the moves I’ve learned from the movies will suffice. But, I threw a couple toothpicks in my purse just in case.
Since I don’t have many friends partaking in online dating because for some odd reason they are all fully capable of finding people in real life, I went to where this all began for some advice, the internet.
Things the internet taught me:
– Whoever invited pays.
– Don’t hook up on the first date; Don’t date the hook up.
– IRL means “in real life”
– Meet in a public place.
– The do nots:
Do not ask an Internet stranger out on a dinner date for your first meeting.
Do not invite an Internet stranger to hang out with you and your friends on your first meeting.
Do not invite an Internet stranger to do something that involves watching you perform with your band/improv group/traditional Polka dance team/whatever.
Movies are also advised against since you can’t talk.
– Remember your manners. So taking notes so I don’t forget anything while I blog about this later probably isn’t the best of ideas? Personally I think it would be rude to my readers if I left out any details.
– Keep the bad behavior to a minimum. Define bad behavior. Getting wasted to me is not bad behavior, it’s how I cope with uncomfortable situations.
– Have a lot of good stories to tell.
– Once you actually have a good date, follow-up quickly. This is encouraging, once you actually have a good date, so it will happen, one day. But lets face it – if finding a great online date was as easy as finding a great online deal, I’d be married by now.
– If you don’t hear back, move on. Is this because we disagree on what about average means?
– Keep it breezy.
So, basically, the internet taught me nothing.
The only thing I was concerned about was finding this human and the initial hello – other than that there’s not much I can be too concerned about . If he likes me, I probably won’t like him. If he doesn’t like me, I’ll probably like him. If the conversation is awkward, I’ll fuel the fire. If he thinks I’m awesome, he’s right. If he kills me, well, damn it.
Thank god he text me and said “I’m wearing the coat I am wearing in my pictures.” Awesome, you have one coat.
On my walk to the meeting place I just couldn’t decide how to approach him.
– Do I walk up holding the peace sign?
– Do I fist bump him?
– Should I have created a secret hand shake?
– Head nod?
– Hug? Hugs are usually safe, but are they safe when meeting an online stranger?
– If I do decide to hug should I open my arms and run to him when I see him?
– One handed shoulder pat?
– Two armed hug?
– Ass slap?
I creepily came around the corner and saw him sitting on the bench. I tried to approach from a side angle because my three-minute spin class and pure barre hell had me walking funny. He leapt up like a frog and it happened – the awkward lean away from each other one-armed hug. I instantly knew he wasn’t the one for me, but I did confirm later that he does in fact have two arms which was terrific.
He was also in fact a man, which was also great.
Of course, then, the judgment began.
– Lip ring. I knew it was there but for some reason was hoping those pictures were old and that at 27 it had somehow been removed from his face.
– Tongue ring. Surprise!
– Ear piercings nicely accented by gems from Icing by Claire’s.
– My left leg is actually the size of both of his legs put together.
– If I was 16, I would have been in heaven.
This was my date.
Online dating is a great way to meet people who only look hot online. Ok, he wasn’t ugly, he was actually quite good-looking – minus the piercings, his awkward school boy laugh and skinny jeans.
He held the door open for me, thanks for not completely sucking.
I am patriotic in that I love American beer. He ordered some micro-brew in an orange can and I had to keep checking to make sure he wasn’t drinking a Sunkist.
I usually talk a lot, and by usually I mean always. I could barely get a word in.
But nothing coming out of his mouth was really that interesting.
Here’s what I learned:
– His piercings are a result of a stage in his life when his goal in life was to piss off his parents and not be so “straight edge.” I’m glad to see almost 10 years later his rebellious stage is still in tact and that he is the ultimate man child.
– He used to do a lot of drugs. I’m beginning to see why someone with an IQ of 50 could do his job.
– He blames a lot of his past on the fact that he did drugs.
– He is a nomad.
– He has lived here for a little over 3 months and has one friend.
– He is out on the ocean for 6 months a year and pretty much unreachable. This doesn’t sound so bad.
– He worked at McDonald’s after college and loved working with the highschool girls.
– His mom loves books.
– He leaves Beaver in the car all day every day while he’s off doing mature things, like snowboarding. I almost called Sarah McLachlan.
– His sister is getting married and he’s not going to the wedding because he’ll be working. Wait, what?
– His sister’s wedding is going to be full of family drama. Where should I send my address for my invite?
– When I talked he tended to forget to look at my face. I had to keep looking to make sure I had in fact put a shirt on.
– I can survive two hours without checking my phone.
– A beer an hour isn’t enough. Next time I’ll pregame.
– I can’t survive without chapstick. I think I licked my lips for two hours which might have been seen as sexy if they weren’t chapped and bleeding by the end.
– He washed his coat prior to our date because it hadn’t been washed for 6 months. The details on how rancid it apparently smelt could have been spared.
– He likes to wear workout clothes that are two sizes too small to the gym.
– If we had children, here’s a snapshot of how adorable they would be (my eyes obviously):
– He is not the one.
I ended up paying. I offered because I was trying to be polite. His response? There’s a first time for everything.
At this point I’m hoping someone will swoop in and steal my identity. I’d actually hand it over. Melissa McCarthy, come and get it.
I was trying to find a classy way to leave my number with the guy at the bar next to me but then I remembered that the internet told me not to forget my manners.
He walked me to my car. How kind. The whole way I’m like great, here we go, into a parking garage, at night – this is it. I peeked at my phone to make sure the GPS locater was on.
We reached my car, embraced in one last awkward one-armed hug and went our separate ways. After of course he asked me to meet up on the mountain on Saturday. Great, a skier and snowboarder frolicking throughout the mountain and another opportunity for him to push me off a cliff, which he actually joked about. Did I mention he was hilarious?
I drove about ninety mph trying to get out of the parking garage – which was probably the only time in the last two hours I was in actual danger of dying.
The weekend came and he ended up bailing on our ski date. He must have found my blog.
I’m sorry my online dating profile gave you the impression I’m actually interested in online dating.
I am on a date with a woman. We’re on line at a department store. She sees a man on line she thinks is more attractive than me. She tells the cashier as she points in the direction of the guy: ” I could have that but I’m stuck with the guy next to me .” I mean how insulting and insensitive can you get ?
This came to us straight from one of our awesome facebook followers. On a bad date and can’t resist sharing? Post it on our page.
I’d had a crush on Guy since freshman year when I’d seen him perform that Maroon 5 song in his a capella group. We’d always flirted, but neither of us was ever brave enough to make a move or ask the other out. Finally, when I was a senior and living with one of his former singing mates, I ran into him at a pajama party in someone’s dorm. He’d already graduated but had come all the way to campus—in the snow, in his pajamas—for this party. We danced for hours and he asked me why I’d never just come out and told him I liked him. I asked him the same question. All of a sudden, the cops showed up and he pulled me into someone’s bedroom. He pushed me back onto the bed and started making out with me; then we lay completely still until the cops were gone.
The party started dispersing after that and I realized he was pretty sloppy drunk. He looked up at me through half closed eyes, swaying slightly in his flannel pj pants, and asked if he could spend the night with me. I didn’t want to hook up with him, but I was a little worried about sending him home in the snow when he was in this state. I told him he could crash on our couch, and called my housemate asking her to stay awake until we got back. As I ended the call, I looked over and saw he had a duffle bag. A DUFFLE BAG. Dude had come to campus for the evening planning to hook up with some college girl and spend the night.
I set him up on the couch and then went into my room and hung out online for awhile. He kept wandering drunkenly into my bedroom. I tried to tell him goodnight, but he kept trying to pull me up. “Well,” I thought, “I guess I have been wanting to do this for years, drunk or not drunk.” I let him lead me to the bed, and we lay down on my back. Instead of kissing me, he kind of just slobbered everywhere and then passed out. I woke him up, trying to get him off of me, but he just said “shhh,” again slobbered all over me (in an attempt to kiss me) and passed out once more. Eventually I got him to stand up, all but pushed him into the living room, and slammed my door shut.
In the morning, he burst into my bedroom, freshly showered and dapper-looking, and announced he was going to church. He later called my housemate (his former singing mate) asking how he’d ended up at our house the night before.
From the pen of #9:
I had met a beautiful woman on a retreat and we’d kissed under the stars, so I was really excited when she invited me to a dinner party at her house. As the evening wound down, she found me in the living room and we hung out until everyone else had left. Then she led me up to her bedroom, where we started making out on her bed. Everything was great and then I felt something warm and gushy—coming from my nose. I opened my eyes and I was having a ferocious nosebleed all over her and the bed. She works in medicine and astutely hypothesized that it was probably the nasal decongestant I’d been using—combined with arousal. Hot.
We actually dated for a couple of months, even though she was applying to medical schools and would probably be leaving the city soon. I had written her a poem, and read it to her as we sat by a beautiful pond and watched the sun set. I started to get hungry and asked if we could stop for something to eat, but she said she needed to get home and insisted I drive her. She talked the whole way home about all the kinds of people she hoped to date in New Orleans, where she was going. I was absolutely starving by the time we got to her house. As I was pulling over on her busy street and trying to find a safe place to let her out, she said, “Okay, I think it’s time for us to stop seeing each other.”
“Wow,” I said, “That was kind of insensitive timing. I just gave you that poem.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Do you want it back?”
I had been living in DC for almost two years before it finally happened to me: I got picked up on the Metro.
Normally I avoid all human contact on the train. Most of it comes in the form of street harassment or a general disgust/regard for my booty. But this guy was wearing a NASA shirt and complimented me on my tote bag (it has a giant Peep on it and is amazing), so I figured he was harmless. Plus I had gone through a string of fairly awful OK Cupid dates, so I was willing to try meeting men the way my mom wants me to (“On the subway! Or in the grocery store!”). Oh, Mom. Sure I’ll go out with the cute space nerd. Who knows, he could have been my very own Astronaut Mike Dexter.
He suggested getting a drink at a faux Irish pub in Chinatown. I agreed, and made sure to grab a quick dinner before our date. I met him there and he was just as cute and friendly as he was on the train. But he immediately ordered a whole meal. Having just eaten, I only ordered a beer. It was a little weird, but I decided to roll with it.
The space nerd had seen plenty of Earth, too: He spent the whole date talking about the year he spent at the Antarctic research station, which was pretty amazing. He had pictures, which he wouldn’t let me put down.
“Here’s us drinking beer inside the station,” he said, “and here’s me with snow in my beard.” Dude, it’s cool at first, but if you don’t show me some penguins, eventually I’ll get bored.
I nursed my beer as he continued to talk about his travels, which, you know, FINE, but I’m like Toby Keith, in that occasionally, I wanna talk about me. We didn’t get there.
And then the bill came. He threw down a twenty and said, “Can you get the rest?” Man, I had ONE BEER, and you want me to pick up the rest of the more than $40 tab? I’d been slightly annoyed all during his soliloquy, and miffed that what was supposed to be a drink was a meal, but now I was supposed to pay for it?
This was the day I learned to always have enough cash for my drinks and a cab home.
I was basically confounded at this, so I threw down my debit card in a daze. But if that wasn’t enough, the space nerd followed me into the Metro and had the gall to move in for a kiss while I was still talking. I think he got all teeth. I know the people around us on the platform heard me say “UGH!” as I turned to catch my train. He asked if he could see me again, and I made a noncommittal noise. Astronaut Mike Dexter, he was not.
Bonus: A year later, he found me on OK Cupid and said, “We never followed through on that second date. When can we get together?” Never, thanks.
Bio: Lindsey is a health writer based in Washington, D.C. She got a cat to avoid going on bad dates. So far it hasn’t helped much. You can read some of her stories on xoJane.com, or follow along in realtime on Twitter: @lindseywoho.
Let’s keep in mind that I once went on a date with a man who told me he lived his life like the Unabomber and that he was really into threesomes – with either two girls or two guys. Now that you have that in your head let me repeat: I just went on the worst date ever in the history of me.
It began innocently enough. He is perfectly attractive and I think in the right mood or setting he is probably hilarious. But he is also one of those men you wouldn’t ever want to date. I mean, someone would and will. But not me. Good Lord, not me.
Instead of giving you the complete run-down I will just give you some advice of what not to do on a date. Men, this is especially for you:
-Do not use the expression: “I’ve never hit a woman, but if I see her again I want to hit her.”
-Do not tell me, when seeing a bruise on your mother’s arm from her current boyfriend, that you told her: “Serves you right for divorcing dad.”
-Do not bring up gay marriage if you are going to say that gay people are in it just for the money. And do not refer to adoptive parents as “step-parents.”
-Do not tell me about your extended family if they are crazy white trash that no one wants anything to do with.
-Please do not incessantly talk about your ex. And if you were with her for three years do not tell me only the negative. It makes you sound very small.
-When a girl asks you what your guilty pleasure is she wants a really bad TV show or song. You should not answer “married chicks.” Yeah, I was gonna say “America’s Got Talent” or the “Call me maybe” song and you just said being a homewrecker is your guilty pleasure.
-And, when the date is going so badly that other people are actually looking over at your date with sympathetic eyes, do not ask her “So am I gonna get a call back?”
And thus ends the worst date in the history of me. Figures this is the guy who actually wants to see me again.
Like this story from Meredith? Read more from her at her blog.