Bad dates suck. But letâ€™s face it, after a certain length of time, they can be pretty funny in retrospect. In honor of the grand tradition of laughing uproariously at disastrous dates, weâ€™re taking submissions for The Bad Date Hall Of Fame. Send yours to email@example.com â€“ and if we publish yours, weâ€™ll send you a pair of Frisky underpants. After the jump, a bad date keeps his apartment under lockdown — find out what’s he hiding.Whatta Mess, via email writes:
I went on four dates with a guy and on the fourth date is when things went seriously wrong. On each of our previous dates, I had been over-dressed, so when we went out on NYE, I showed up in a long dress but brought a cocktail dress with me if the occasion called for something more glamourous. I showed up early in case I needed to change. I knocked on his door, but he didn’t answer — I could hear moving around inside so I knew he was there. When he finally came to the door and proceeded to squeeze out without me peeking inside, I noticed his clothes were stuck to his wet body and his hair was dripping water â€“ he had gotten dressed without drying off from the shower! He wouldnâ€™t let me in his apartment, but I had decided I wanted to change. He started fighting with me about it, so I said, â€œLook Iâ€™ve been invited to five other parties that I would be happy to attend if you do not let me in your apartment right now.â€ He warned me that the place was a mess. I was not prepared.
This guy had a hording disorder, that was instantly clear. His place was filled from floor to ceiling with papers, trash bags, empty food containers and soda cans. There was a clean, one-foot path from front door to tv, from tv to bathroom and from bathroom to bedroom. His bathroom had a â€œblackâ€ toilet…that was supposed to be white. His shower had two clean foot print spots where he stood and the rest was black. Knowing he had a serious disorder and that I could scar him emotionally if I reacted badly, I opted to change at a gas station. I finished the very strained evening, smelling like the jack and coke he spilled on me, trying to be festive. He mercifully decided he wasnâ€™t feeling well and wanted me to take him home. We were sitting at a red light in silence when the DJ on the radio counted down to midnight.
He called me almost exactly one year later to tell me he had cleaned his apartment a little every day and it was now perfectly clean. And then he thanked me for being so nice about that night.”