Bad Date Hall Of Fame: Donald Duck, The Swim Instructor
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 firstname.lastname@example.org â€“ and if we publish yours, weâ€™ll send you a pair of Frisky underpants. After the jump, a bad date needs a ride, forgets his wallet, and does his best duck impression.Sink Or Swim, via email, writes:
There was this really sexy swim instructor at my gym. I would see him every Saturday when I’d drop my son off for his lessons. One Saturday, he actually hit on me and suggested we go on a date that evening. He was so charming! He called my cell in front of me leaving a message with his number and wishes for a wonderful night with me. I was pumped and ready. Later that day as we planned to get together that evening, he asked if I wouldn’t mind driving because he was having issues with his car. Reluctantly I agreed.
Later that night, I arrived at his house and called him, letting him know I was sitting downstairs. When he came out, he was dressed like a Bible salesman — slacks with a belt, short sleeved shirt tucked in and dress shoes. I worked hard to ignore the outfit. We hadn’t really planned where we would spend the night, so my thought was to drive and decide where were were headed as we talked. At one point, he tried to guess my age, suggesting 35 — I was actually 28.
As we continued through the city, in my car, burning up my gas, I kept asking where he wanted to go. He said he wasn’t sure because most of what he’d been doing in the last few months were local to his neighborhood because his car had been impounded for driving drunk on a suspended license. At this point, I knew the rest of the night had to get better because there was no way it could get worse…or so I thought. We had been driving for about 30 minutes and had covered almost every potential date spot in the city. As I drove, wondering what had I done to the date gods to deserve this, my date told me he usually only dated drunk sorority girls and didn’t know how to act in front of me, a grown up with a kid. I finally pulled into a swanky hotel, thinking we were going to have a couple drinks. (In spite of his DUI — I was driving so I thought we were in the clear.) Throughout our ride, he kept saying he didn’t care where we went, he was a cheap date. I was under the impression this meant he was easy to please, not that he was broke. As the valet walked towards the car, he whispered he didn’t think he could afford the drinks and didn’t have the cash for the valet. Since the date was his idea, I refused to foot the bill. We get back into my car and he suggests going back to his place to watch a movie and have a drink. Wine and a movie sounded like a good idea but unfortunately, it wasn’t the one he had.
We stopped at 7-11 and he grabbed a 12-pack of beer. At that point, I was trying to figure out how to shake this guy. We got back to his place, a single room decorated with Mardi Gras beads, felt sombreros and empty tequila bottles. He told me I could pick a movie from his VHS collection — WTF?! I was past pissed and there was no hiding it. He opened about three beers, chugging them all without offering me one. Realizing I was pissed, he grabbed a plastic duck bill (which was also hanging on his wall), placed it on his face along with the sombrero and began talking to me in a duck voice. When I didn’t laugh, he did the ultimate space violation — he tickled me! I couldn’t take it anymore — I grabbed my purse and headed for the door. He stood up and apologized for such a bad night. Instead of saying something else to smooth things over, he, slightly drunk, changed his clothes in front of me and asked if I could drop him off at a nearby club because it was still early.
Needless to say, after this story, beware of swim instructors!