Tag Archives: first date

Emma Willmann: One Night stand of Sex Toys


She performed for us once and we begged her come back! And oh she came…


ESL Dating – Yes or NOOO?

anchor man

Well, I guess it was bound to happen…”It” being an end to my run of positive dating experiences. Sometime last week after successful date #2 with guy #8, I was thinking to myself, “Gee, I’ve been really lucky with this whole dating thing. Only 2.5 months after getting out of a 9+ year-long relationship (and 2 months after joining a dating website), I’ve gone out with 7-8 guys (yep, I’ve actually lost track!), gone out with 3 of them more than once. And all 7-8 of them, even the ones where we didn’t necessarily”hit it off,” were positive experiences.  I was even starting to think that being single was better than being in a relationship – I met new and different types of people, explored new neighborhoods, got taken out for free meals, shows, drinks, etc., learned a lot about myself (what I want and don’t want, need and don’t need), and overall turned into Me 2.0.

Well, I’ve hit the wall.

It all began on a Thursday in June . I started talking to a new guy online who I’ll refer to us “Dentist Guy.”  Dentist Guy wasted no time with messaging on the website and pretty much jumped into asking me out directly.  While I do prefer some messaging prior to meeting, I can appreciate just, “cutting to the chase,” and my new philosophy has been to try to be as open as possible, so I decided to forego the pre-meeting back-and-forth and agreed to meet him out.

Dentist Guy and I exchanged cell numbers and moved directly to text to arrange the date.  My initial thought based upon his limited messages and few texts was “either this guy hardly knows English, or he’s a really lazy texter/messager,” and since I figured this guy was successful enough to be practicing dentistry in NYC, I decided he could speak English and was just a lazy texter/messager, you know, because he was so busy with all his dental clients.  He also asked me for drinks and a movie.  I thought a movie was a bit strange since spending 2 hours in silence with a complete stranger seems to defeat the purpose of trying to get to know each other.  So, I responded, “let’s just get drinks and see how it goes from there.” OK, done.

So Monday late morning, I text Dentist Guy to confirm we’re still on for the night.  We had previously agreed on 8 at Union Square for Friday night, and I wanted to stick with that plan so I would have time to get home after work, and change out of my very corporate-y work outfit I was wearing and into my  2.0 clothes.  Here is what I remember of our exchange:

Me:  Hey there! (“hey there” is apparently my go-to dating text lingo I use with all the guys I date) We still on for 8 tonight at Union Square?

Dentist Guy:  How’s 5?

Me (Thinking: Um, don’t you know people usually work until 5? And in New York people usually work later?  : I could do 6. Where in Union Square?

Dentist Guy:  Union Square.

Me (Thinking: Uh, yeah, dumbass, I just said that, Union Square’s big): Yes, Union Square is big. Where exactly?

Dentist Guy: University Place and Tenth Street.

Me (Thinking: That’s not even Union Square. Yes, only a few blocks away, but technically not Union Square!): OK, see you at 6 at 10th and University.

So, I leave work around 5:1pm and decide to walk there from work (even though it’s over a mile and I’m in my work shoes) since it’s pretty nice out and I have the time.  Well, despite the fact that the man’s 6’3″, I smell him before I see him. SOOOOOOOO much cologne!  Oh, and my profile lists my “first-date turn-off” as: “Too much cologne!!!!!!”  Strike one.  But, he’s nice enough looking despite the fact that not only is he wearing too much cologne, I don’t even like that scent and it smells cheap.  He’s also wearing a royal blue blazer.  I don’t even notice whatever else he’s wearing because the bright blue blazer is too distracting. Who wears that?! So we get gelato (ok, points there for gelato) and sit to “talk.”  Talk in quotes because I realize he hardly does speak any English!  His accent is so strong and on top of it he spoke so softly I could hardly hear him, neve rmind understand what he was saying.  He gave short answers to my questions and just asked me the same questions back without adding anything of his own. After what felt like FOREVER, I realize only 20 minutes had gone by and I’m ready to die.  Strike two.

And, I can’t even say I have somewhere else to be because (1) I had already asked him to meet at 8, implying I had no later plans, and (2) who makes a date when they have to leave after 20 minutes?  So, he asks if I want to see a movie.  After agreeing on a comedy, we decide on Hangover 3.  So, we get into the the theater, which had maybe 4 other people in there, and he chooses the last row of the theater.  Since the theater was so small, I didn’t think much of it, plus I was wondering whether he was doing it to be polite since he’s so tall and didn’t want to block people’s views.

Well, MAYBE 5 minutes into the movie he asks “Holds hands?” (not even a full sentence, just “hold hands”! – oh, and “hands”was pronounced like a German “Hanz”) Poor-little-awkward-not-wanting-to-hurt-anyone-else’s-feelings me, says “Yes.”  So, now he’s holding my hand resting it on his crossed leg and slowly caressing my arm up and down like we’re totally in love and watching “The Notebook.”  Meanwhile, if he looked over at my face he would’ve seen a mixture of shock, disgust, and discomfort, with a bit of humor about the whole situation thrown in for good measure.  So, for the next 10 minutes all I’m thinking about is how weird this whole thing is, not only because we knew each other for only 20 minutes, but we didn’t even have real conversation within that 20 minutes, and how the hell do I get out of it?   I do what anyone would do: I fake an itch I can’t get to with my left hand, requiring me to free my right hand from his grip to scratch my itch. So then I put my hands in my lap and adjust my body more or less away from his. So then he tries in the dark to “find my hand” accidentally/on purpose rubbing my bare leg in the meantime.  He finds my hand again asking “hold hands?”  and I don’t think I actually spoke any English but tried to mumble out a “Uh, no, that’s OK.” Strike three.  Now I’m just thinking about how I’m gonna make it through the rest of the movie and that I just want to run away.

Well, little did I know!….About 10-15 minutes after the hand-holding “rejection,” he checks his phone a few times, leans over, rubs my arm, and says “Well, I have to go!,” gets up and leaves!  Leaves ME! I wasn’t even mad, just relieved.  I couldn’t handle the smell of the cologne or the discomfort of having to sit next to him.  That was the funniest part of the entire movie.  After sticking around to watch another 10 minutes of the movie, I left and walked the 4.5 miles home through the grimy summer streets of NYC unable to get the smell of his cologne off my hand or out of my nose!
A few weeks later, I’m working on a project in Houston with a few new work colleagues, and what better first impression can I make than to share this story with them?  Clearly, they found as much amusement in it as I did because every once in a while someone would all of a sudden say “Hold hands?”  Months later, I still get emails or instant messages with nothing more than “Hold hands?”  We also think the conference room we were working in was bugged, so I imagine a bunch of Texans running around Houston saying “Hold hands?” with a southern drawl.  Since every project at my company gets an official code name in our system (because of privacy issues, we can’t refer to the actual client names even within the company, so each client project gets a code name), we of course just had to name this project “Project Holds Hands.” So now, there’s an official project named “Hold Hands.”  Later, my boss was explaining he had to call our company help line with an issue on the project and was laughing telling the help line guy, “I’m calling about Project Hold Hands. That’s right, Hold Hands.” If I leave no other mark on my company, my contribution of naming “Project Hold Hands” made it all worth it.

How I Met Your Mother


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.


Please Stop Talking About Yourself So Much…I’ll Do That When You Leave


Online dating sucks, when you take it offline.

Just kidding, it’s a blast – if you’re an asshole like me and love miserable dates because it provides material.

Thank you Match.com for once again not finding a suitable match.

About a week and half ago I received a message on Match – pretty straight forward – somewhere along the lines of, “Hey, I’m also from North Dakota, let’s get dinner – or drinks.”

Looking back, is the fact that this human being happens to be from my home state really enough to bypass all normal conversation, give out my number and meet up for dinner? Probably not. But it’s exactly what I did.

So, we had agreed on dinner.

Little did this human know I am the worst at making decisions so I left it up to him. This was a big moment – his time to shine – if he had read my profile he would choose Mexican to be safe, since it’s my favorite.

His text: “Sushi?”

At this moment I should have just cut my losses.

I explained to him I have an irrational fear of chopsticks and that he would need to choose somewhere else. He found it funny, I was annoyed.

T-3 days until our 8PM dinner date.

Within these three days I had appointments for a mani/pedi and highlights – this lucky bastard was getting me at my best. I should have worn a shirt that said, “This is as good as it gets.”

My Date
– 35
– Male (I‘m beginning to consider switching teams)
– Works for a computer company
– From ND
– Likes to raft and ride his bike

Things that should have concerned me:
– I really knew nothing about him.
– He likes to ride his bike.
– The big WTF moment was when I tried to view his profile on the day of the date…I couldn’t. He must have blocked me. I should have bailed right then. I know nothing about him, I can barely see his face in his profile picture and he blocked me. Who in the hell am I meeting? Hannibal Lecter?

He text me around 3PM and said, “See you at 8.”

In this moment I had four responses come to mind: 
– What’s at 8?
– No, you actually won’t.
– Who is this?
– Yes, see you then.

I obviously went with option 4, mainly because I needed something to write about. Yeah, I know, once again, I’m an asshole.

I think the most nervous I get is on my way to meet these people. What if they don’t look like their pictures? What if they think I don’t? What if I say hi to the wrong person? What if they don’t show?

As soon as the initial meet and greet is over, I’m fine. I’m in a public place what’s the worst that could happen? Oh, a boring date from hell.

The Date

I arrive at 7:58, two minutes to spare. I should have been 2 hours late and missed it.

Good thing he was the only one in the restaurant and by good thing I mean, awkward.

I’m instantly cool, he instantly shits his pants.

It was the most uncomfortable hug in my entire life. He stuck out his hand for a handshake so I did the same but then he apparently changed his mind and went in for one armed hug – my hand was now stuck in between the two of us as it didn’t get the memo to bail on the handshake.

Glad that’s over. He looks around the restaurant talking to himself, “We need a table for two. Can someone get us a table for two?”

Uh, buddy, all the workers are in the back, who are you talking to?

Like I mentioned before, I suck at making decisions. Big life changing decisions, I’m pretty good at – small things like which table to sit at? Not so much. I need a man who can make decisions.

He can’t.

Every question the waitress asked he panicked. Table or booth? Here in the front or in the back? High top or low top? Which one of these two do you prefer?

If he didn’t shit his pants when I walked in, he just did.

Completely flustered. I had to man up and make the decision.

You know what else is awkward? A 5’10” woman and a 6’6” man sitting at a table built for a four year-old. I had no idea what to do with my legs since his were taking up the area under the table. At one point I think they were both just flailing around in the air.

I was actually excited for the conversation because I didn’t know anything about him so there would be so much to talk about.

Topics of conversation:
– The fact that neither of us had been to the restaurant and the quality of the food.
– His obsession with riding his bike.
– Vajazzling
– Summer plans

The fact that neither of us had been to the restaurant and the quality of the food.

It was like this was his first time at a restaurant he has never been to. Therefore, I assume if he ever goes out to eat it must always be to the same place.

He was having a hard time figuring it out. It was a Mongolian BBQ. The two main ideas (other than basic dishes ordered from the waitress) were to fill a bowl and take it to the grill where the chef grills it up or order meat that is served to the table with a hot volcanic rock and you cook it yourself.

I figured this out by reading the menu. Apparently literacy isn’t a quality we share.

I ordered water. Clearly the waitress didn’t understand the, “and by water I mean straight vodka” look I gave her because she actually brought me water.

First we started with a soup or salad. He went with the soup, myself the salad.

He sat and wondered for about 5 minutes how the soup was going to taste.

In those 5 minutes I ate my entire salad.

Shut up and eat.

His obsession with riding his bike.

In no way am I exaggerating when I say 98% of our conversation was about him riding his bike.

Do you know how many shits I give about people riding bikes? None.

Most bike riders don’t need to be Lance Armstrong for me to want to punch them in the face.

I own a car and its how I prefer to get from point A to point B.

Want to race?

He rode his bike through the French Alps last summer.

I rafted the Colorado, the Eagle and the Roaring Fork while consuming more beer than any girl should be able to. I don’t remember some of it but I guarantee my summer was more fun.

He went to a bike class that day since he can’t ride his bike outside currently.

I went to a spin class once and I would rather lose my legs and the ability to sit than ever do that again.

We have so much in common.

Not to bore you because just thinking about it bores me – we continued to talk about him and his bike.

I might create a Match.com account for a bike and message him.


Just to clarify, yes, vajazzling.

Vajazzling: The act of applying glitter and jewels to a woman’s nether regions for aesthetic purposes.

During one of his rambles about his bike riding he mentioned that this summer he is once again going to France to ride his little bicycle. If I ever go to France it will be to eat myself from place to place, get fat and steal people’s bikes.

I then got to learn about everyone going on the trip this summer.

Ask me how many fucks I give about who this human is going on a bike trip with this summer?

F I Give pic

Anyway, the one person he was most excited about was Travis Stork.

You don’t know what that is? Who are you? Do you live under a rock?

I had no idea who he was either.

Apparently he’s on the show The Doctor’s.

More importantly, he was the Bachelor.

I would compare his fame to Tara Reid.

I wouldn’t be excited.

Now, had he said Channing Tatum or Liam Hemsworth were joining him in France? I would have proposed our second date be in France.

Back to the famous bike riding human who will be biking around France with the most boring human.

Apparently my date didn’t know who he was at first.

Which is promising, because nobody should know him. So his friend calls him one day to have him catch the show.

All the sudden my date starts acting like a 5 year-old.

His hands are in his face. He’s mumbling. And rocking back and forth.

Is this where you go bat shit crazy and kill me?

He’s mumbling about what the show was about that day.

All I hear are little bits and pieces:
– Jewels down there
– Vagina
– Bedazzling down there
– Oh my gosh

Once he became an adult again and was looking at me I said, “Are you talking about Vajazzling?”

He almost jumps out of his chair, claps his hands – “YES, THAT’S IT.”

Jesus Christ. Is this real life?

He then reverts to his 5 year-old self and talks about how they turned the question back to the doctor and asked if he would ever bedazzle his penis.

He said penis so quiet I thought he lost his voice.

I made him repeat himself three times.

I think I just committed a form of torture.

I thought he was going to die of embarrassment.

Wait, you’re 35, right?

Penis. Penis. Penis. Vagina. Vagina. Vagina.

At this point I’m waiting for someone to save me. Anyone. Or for him to kill me, and put me out of misery.

Summer Plans

Well we can keep this short.

His plans are to ride his bike. Every day. Everywhere.

I made it perfectly clear about 700 times that riding a bike sounds miserable and that I don’t own one. He didn’t care.

You know how I know he read my profile?

In my profile I state, “I drop the f bomb more than any girl should, my mother hates it.”

Now, I swear, a lot – I know it – but I would never, ever, ever walk into a first date and say fuck every time I took a breath. I actually make sure not to swear at all when I first meet someone. I’m such a lady.

Well, the Lance Armstrong wannabe across the table was dropping f bombs every 7 minutes.

The best was, I think it was the first time he has ever said the word.

He stuttered when he said it. He wouldn’t make eye contact. He used it in the most unnecessary sentences.

But I am glad after 35 years he has finally released his caged up f bombs, all in one dinner.

See you never.

The date is finally over.

He has talked about all his past and upcoming bike trips and has nothing else to say.


We walk outside and unfortunately had a repeat of the most awkward hug ever. I used both my arms because they both work.

As he’s walking to his car he yells, “See you soon.”

Uh, ok. I don’t know where, but if you say so.

I am thinking it’s midnight. I’m exhausted. Longest – Date – Ever.

I get in my car.

It’s 9:15.

I was there for an hour and 17 minutes.

Are you fucking kidding me?

I thought it was almost November and I was going to get a free dessert for my birthday.

Please, let’s not ruin this with a second date.

This piece came to us courtesy of Shelby. Shelby has a hilarious blog and you can find her on facebook.

Let’s Take This Relationship Back On-Line


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.

My Match

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 date

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):

 child 2 

– 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.

This piece came to us courtesy of Shelby. Shelby has a hilarious blog and you can find her on facebook.


Because the best time to tell us about a bad date…is right as it’s happening!



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.



Pimpin’ Ain’t Easy


I approached The Pimp on Plenty of Fish; his pictures seemed like he’d have a slightly urban edge, but he was pretty attractive, and I liked his profile. We started chatting, and honestly – I wasn’t really feeling him. He used very short-handed text (which I dislike) and his tone was also….urban (aka – not very good English).

But then he told me his first name. It was so unusual, and sounded made up. I decided it was worth meeting him just to see if it was really his first name.

We met at a place with counter service, for drinks. I was looking to keep it informal, and non-committal because honestly – I didn’t see this going anywhere. That turned out to be an excellent choice.

He was very nice; polite, easy to talk with, fun, considerate…all the things a guy should be.

He also took four phone calls in the hour that we sat together – which is amazing when you consider that he is unemployed. He rolled up in a luxury sedan wearing more bling than I (which, if you know me, is no small task) – and he’s unemployed. His kids are grown – but something is going on that is so important he has to take that many phone calls.

“What did you do?” I asked, thinking maybe he made a lot of money when he was working.

Social services was his answer. Trust me – no one in the line of work he mentioned is getting rich.

OK – so he’s unemployed, rolling in luxury, and came from a modest living. He takes phone calls that are too important to let be for an hour.

I assumed he must be either a pimp, a dealer, or a bookie.

As it turns out, he had even more drama. He told me he owned a house in the same city I live. “Well – I used to own a house. Now I live in an apartment. I lost my house because I got a DWI a few years ago and had to go to prison.”

I beg your pardon?

“That’s not really me,” he said. “I was depressed. My wife gave birth to a child who was obviously not mine; I found out in the delivery room. You probably know my wife…” Then he went on to (publicly) name a local celebrity to whom he was once married.

I couldn’t make this stuff up if I wanted – but it does validate my preference for first dates where there is a quick, easy exit.

In case you’re wondering – yes, the funky name is really his first name, and no, we did not ever have a second date.

Dude’s too busy, and I never date anyone who has better accessories than me.

Bio: Just a single gal trying to find her shine one bad relationship at a time. Follow her journey at girlsgotshine1.blogspot.com.


Strangers on a Train


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.