As we embark on Memorial Day weekend, what better time to look back and remember the horrible dates of our past? Well, your past, actually. The horrible dates of my past are far too numerous to confine to one weekend.
Here, then, are the most painful emails I received this month. Everyone’s favorite…Awful Story Olympics!!!
Ok, so maybe this isn’t funny, but my friends laughed like hell about it, so I figured I’d write it in.
I went out with a guy who was legally blind. I knew that in advance, but he said it wasn’t a big deal. It just meant he wasn’t allowed to drive and stuff, but he said with glasses he could see fine.
Well, let me tell you right now, legally blind IS a big deal. It means you’re so blind it’s illegal for you to see, or something like that. (Ed. Note: Zing!) He showed up and literally the first thing he did was trip over the step that led into the restaurant, like a cartoon character. Then on the way to the table, he tripped again. I think he only had one eye that worked at all, because he kept turning this head to the side so he could see me through his right eye directly. And he held the menu up to it real close and off to the side. The worst thing was the hostess seated us in a section that was elevated and off to the side, so every time he had to leave the table he had to walk down a step. Then up a step to come back. Every single time he did it, he tripped. By the end, I could tell he wanted to go to the bathroom, but was too scared of the journey, so just sat there quietly.
He was really sweet though, and I went out with him again. It’s not nice to make fun of people with disabilities! -Sarah McMullen; Weston, CT
Wait a second, I didn’t make fun of disabilities, you did! I mean, you did it in the cute girlish way where it comes off as fun and good-hearted, but you included a picture of Mad Eye Moody from the Harry Potter movies. Clearly, that’s making fun. Wait, what’s that? I included the picture? Emailers obviously have no ability to post or not post pictures on my site? Hmmm. You seem to have a point.
I hope you enjoyed your date with a Peter Sellars character. You made fun of him a little bit.
I went out with a guy who lived in Hoboken a few times. I live in Manhattan, so it was a little off the beaten path for me, but I liked him and am always down to explore.
One night we were out at a bar and start making out in a booth. Things got pretty hot and heavy, so he asked me if I wanted to go back to his place. I told him Hoboken was pretty far, but he said he’d get us a car, his treat. I said OK, and we hailed a town car.
Twenty minutes later we pull over at a gas station in New Jersey so he can use the bathroom. I get out to get a soda, then when I come back to the car, he’s gone. Totally ditched me. I looked everywhere, but he just left me in the middle of nowhere. I had to pay a $40 cab ride home. He called the next day to say he got really sick and hoped I’d forgive him. I just deleted the voicemail.
Wow. That one’s not even funny. That’s just really sad. I’m sorry that happened. Uh…at least you can look on the bright side! Which in this case is that…you’re still alive? I mean, you totally coulda ended up murdered, right? So…hooray for non-murder!
Last week I was planning to meet this woman I had been chatting with on Nerve. She seemed really fun, and had cute pictures – though only of her face, and we both work in finance, so I thought we’d have plenty in common.
Well, when I met her, I learned pretty quickly why all the pictures were just zoomed in close on her face; she was seriously overweight. I actually like big women, my first wife was heavy, but I really don’t like liars. I wanted to leave right then, but decided to stick it out. I thought we were meeting for a drink, but she said her dog needed a walk and would I be interested in just walking around the block a few times with her? Sounded faster than a drink, so I said sure.
The walk was fine, kinda boring, and we didn’t really have a lot of chemistry. Her dog was one of those tiny longhairs who has hair that rubs along the ground, which is pretty gross when you’re walking on a dirty New York sidewalk, but whatever. And she totally adored the thing, which made even less interested. Anyway, after we walk for ten minutes or so, her dog stopped to poop. As it was going, I noticed this woman didn’t have a bag to pick it up, so I assumed she was just gonna leave it on the street, sealing the deal as someone I wanted nothing to do with. But then, she looked down and said, “shit, I forget to bring a bag.” Without thinking twice, she just scooped up the poop in her hand and tossed it in a nearby trash barrel. She picked up the poop in her hand!!!! Then afterwards she said, “I just hate leaving the street dirty.” I was like, yeah, I hate leaving the street dirty too, but now you’ve got dog crap all over your hands. And we’re supposed to be on a date!!!
I made up some excuse and got out of there fast. Before she could shake my hand goodbye!!! -Fred S., NYC, NY
First of all, if you’re ever thinking about a date, “well, if all else fails, we can talk about our mutual love of finance!”, then you’re probably in a bit of trouble to begin with.
I gotta say, as a cat owner, I get a fair amount of grief from the ladies about my pet situation. Apparently, male cat lovers are viewed universally as either weirdos, or, well, homosexuals. No idea where that comes from.
However, no cat owner would either 1) say “wanna just walk around with my cat for a while on our first date?” or 2) pick up their CAT’S CRAP IN THEIR HANDS UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. And hearing that a dog owner did either doesn’t shock me in the slightest. You people should be ashamed of yourselves.
If you’d like to be included in next month’s Awful Story Olympics, email me!
These stories make me feel a little better about the time I made out with a guy who’s back was so hairy I thought maybe – just maybe – werewolves actually existed. (<–that's not a joke I really considered it for a second because of how nastily hairy this guy was)
Perhaps if you’d waited until the full moon went away, he would’ve turned out to be Tyler Lautner. Which, I guess, is better…?
I once went on an internet date with a guy I was pretty sure had snorted some sort of stimulant before he met me. He proceeded to yell at the bartender at the first place we went to (that’s right you read it correctly, we managed to go to more than one place) then yelled again at the hostess at the second place we went to (she looked at me in shock and I just rolled my eyes and shrugged my shoulders). He then proceeded to go on and on about how great he was, not stopping for a breather, sweating profusely, and as I remember it…sniffling a lot. I believe I left with the awkward parting words…”well…have fun”. Ah but the awkwardness proceeded into the next day, in which I received about a 5 paragraph essay email from him apologizing profusely and stating why things were just not going to work out. He wanted to be very sure I was let down easy. And delete. I kind of wish I saved that email just for shits and giggles.
You’ve just been entered in next month’s Awkward Story Olympics!
Perhaps the stimulant he was on was true love? Or blow. One of the two.
Can’t stop reading. . . must do something productive today. . . need more humiliating stories . . .