Tag Archives: bad dates
On May 27th, Bad Date Great Story’s live series is turning four! We are celebrating the best way we know how–by getting five of the most hilarious performers in NYC to tell us about their dating woes!
Check out Emi and Jessie’s latest article where they give you a How-To Guide for optimizing a bad date… Read Article Here
We got written up on this cool beans webmag–Thanks Christina Chaey!
This is a response post.
Anthony’s OK Stupid column here on Bad Date Great Story, that had a veeery interesting graph last week.
I’ve gotten into the unfortunate habit of lending out books to men I’m involved with. Now, under normal circumstances–with say, close friends, family members, or homeless people–I wouldn’t mind the inevitable result, which is, of course, not having said book returned. Listen, I’m going to be honest here, half the books in my apartment (see: Wallflower at the Orgy; I Feel Bad About My Neck; anything Sloane Crosley has written; The Brief and Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao; the old testament) currently have names written in them that aren’t mine. So I’m going to call karma, and understand any book I lend out to people I care about might not be seen again. And so it goes.
However, book “lending,” like having sex, is not an act to be taken lightly. You can’t give it out to just anybody. But, I admit, as the following scenarios prove, I’ve gotten a bit lax:
1) The Great First Date: I met D. at a Russian bath house. As per usual, there were a lot of red flags I chose to ignore (A few: “I was in a band.” “I fancy myself a writer.” “I had sex with a lot of groupies.” “I love women, so I cover my body in tattoos of pin-up girls” “I am still getting over having my heart ripped out of my chest and stomped on by the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with” “I’m from Staten Island”). We spent six hours talking and sweating and beating each other with birch branches. I thought we’re doing things I’d usually save for the third date. He said witty things like, “with most women I’m concerned with them seeing me naked. But I’m worried about you seeing me clothed.” And most significantly, he cared about books. He asked me for a few of my favorites and I gave him a list. He wrote it on his receipt for Baltika and pirogi. Before we left, he asked me out to dinner, and then added– red flag alert– “I really feel like something serious can happen here.” Three days later, dinner at a fabulous restaurant, followed three days after that by a movie night at his place. And this is where I made my fatal error. “I brought you a book to borrow,” I told him, and handed over my underlined copy of Shot in the Heart. (About an ex-Mormon serial killer, and not my relationship history, thank you very much.) He lent me a book in return, we watched Rocky, snuggled on the couch, yada yada yada, I went to visit a friend in Seattle, I didn’t hear from him for a week, and when I got back he told me he was seeing someone else and asked if we could be friends. No thank you, I told him. I already had plenty of friends. But could I have my book back, please.
Now, in this scenario, here is where the mutual friend comes in handy. Roman Palitsky, I’ve got to hand it to him–when not exploiting his life lessons on a tee-shirt and other merchandise (http://www.cafepress.com/baddategreatstory), I’m stating a string of expletives about his friend, and then asking him to go down to Sunset Park and engage in a book exchange. If “whatever you’re feeling right now” is actually what you’re supposed to be feeling, then Roman must feel like he’s friends with an asshole.
So, moral(s) of the story: Don’t lend a book out after an awesome first date. Also, be friends with Roman Palitsky.