I think everyone has there fair share of bad dates; no chemistry, he shows up wearing a pinkie ring, etc. In honor of Valentine's Day, I figured I would air some of my dirty laundry and give you a glimpse into some of my most memorable dates (and not in a good way). In typical Annie fashion, most of these dates don't fall into the category of a typical bad date--these are the TITANIC of bad dates. And yes, I said "these" plural. After reading through this blog, you may wonder why after all these encounters I continue to go on dates, which could potentially turn into an hour of wishing the man across the table from me would choke on something so he could go to the emergency room and I could go home. The answer, as simple and trite as it seems, is that I love love, and I will never give up believing there is someone out there who is perfect for me. And I know that's not a bold statement at 23, but check me when 50 living alone with 5 cats, and I guarantee I'll say the same thing.
Like many of you, I had my first bad date when I had my first date. I was in 6th grade, in that awkward in-between where puberty had hit hard enough to give me pimples and periods, but had not turned me into a teenager with big boobs. I was also pretty fat. I thinned out in 7th grade, but in order to picture this accurately: baby fat, braces, pimples, and awkward social graces. Yum. My parents dropped me and my man-friend off at the movie, and since the boy in question had told me via AIM, "I don't think you're that pretty but you have a great personality," I was fairly confident this was all coming up Annie. Well, nothing happened, but afterward he did ask me, (again via AIM) if I would be "into it" if he kissed me. I hope to God I didn't say yes, but I might have. Anyway, it will never matter because we never had a second "date" and a chance at a brace-faced kiss.
Highschool was fairly kind to me via the dating game. I did have one awkward encounter where the guy didn't bring enough money to leave a tip, so I took note of waitress's name and sheepishly handed her an envelope with a $10 bill and a note of profuse apology, but otherwise, nothing terrible. I went to a lot of movies and high school football games, but not a lot of parties, and generally managed to not be a pariah but also not be anything near to homecoming queen.
Through most of college I didn't really "date," I did what everyone does; try desperately to trick a guy into flirting with you at a party and then hoping he drunkenly texts you, "party?!" next weekend. Towards the end of my college tenure, however, I discovered the fantastic world of online dating. While I still am a huge proponent of online dating, it also opens the floodgate for some near sociopaths.
I have this terrible habit of guiltily giving people the benefit of the doubt even when I know I'm not interested. I think it's because my mom told me to always dance with the ugly guys who asked me at middle school dances, because the other good-looking guys would be hesitant to approach me if they saw me turn down people. This was terrible advice. I ended up dancing with disgusting B.O. infested, anime playing, wierdos, just like I have ended up going on dates with the people I am about to describe.
This first bad-date was with a NO FUCKING JOKE chicken farmer, who lived near Cincinnati. He had a sarcastic sense of humor, so I was like, "okay, let's try this." He ended up showing up a full twenty minutes late, and honestly nothing could piss me off more. I tried to be understanding and not a bitch (which obviously is against my nature) but the conversation was awkward and it seemed legitimately like he was bored shitless. Fine. The worst part, however, came with the check. "So you just want to go dutch, or what?" he asked. Never mind that HE invited me. I threw down my card and actually was so frustrated that after he left I burst into tears.
In more thrilling examples, one time I went on a date with a successful older guy, only to hear him tell me after about 10 minutes that he had joined a Belarusian revolution after being recruited by a Belarusian freedom fighter he met in a homeless shelter. As he explained how he was held as a P.O.W. "but worse because we weren't under the Geneva Convention," I sat in stunned silence because I had thought I was going out with a nice banker. Another time, after moving the date up a half-hour and telling me with 15 minutes notice, the guy berated me for being 5 minutes late, told me I seemed like I was in a pissy mood enough times to actually cause me to be in a pissy mood, and waxed eloquent about how I needed to have a more positive outlook on life. I literally sat there hating everything about him more and more with each passing minute. Yet another time, I was told the guy had expected me to be "a conservative southern belle," because admittedly, he hadn't read anything I said in my profile, only looked at my pictures.
Again, I think everyone has bad dates. My hope for ya'll reading this is that your Valentines Day is full of wonderful romance that sweeps you off your feet, and not a chicken farmer who makes you pay, or someone who yells at you for being late when it was they who changed the time, or worst of all someone who talks about being a P.O.W.