Bad dates suck. But let’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, we’re taking submissions for The Bad Date Hall Of Fame. Send yours to email@example.com – and if we publish yours, we’ll send you a pair of Frisky underpants. After the jump, a bad date asks all the wrong questions. Holding Back (A Punch!), Lincoln, NE, writes:
I haven’t been on a single good date in almost a year. I don’t mean that I don’t go on dates, or that all of my dates are horrific disasters. My dates are frozen dinners. They taste fine and have most of the necessary nutrients, but they don’t satisfy that deep down hunger. One of my dates, however, was pretty freaking awful. I could compare it to eating out of the trash.
I had been out with this guy, let’s call him Ned, a few times when he told me he wanted to make me dinner. I thought that was kind of sweet, even though he lived about 45 minutes away. I showed up, and there was a gorgeous dinner on the table and Ray Charles or some other of cheesy music playing on the stereo. He was laying out all his cards.
The food was amazing, the conversation was not. Ned told me he thought I hadn’t shared enough about myself with him — sorry, but I don’t tell everyone I meet my life story — but I played along, and told him he could ask me some questions if he wanted.
First question: Have you ever had a one-night stand? Um, Ned? How does my answering this help you “get to know” me? I answered his question but was a little pissed that he had asked. It seemed like a juvenile thing to be curious about, and Ned’s in his late 20s.
Second question: Do you ever want to get married? Because it doesn’t seem like you do. I said marriage wasn’t a top priority in my life because I hadn’t found anyone I could see myself marrying. Yes, Ned, that means you.
Third question: Do you think you might hide behind your friends, and they prohibit you from having a relationship? “I better get going, I have work tomorrow,” I told him. How dare he say anything about my friends. Maybe he didn’t have any or something.
I didn’t hear from Ned until he texted me a week after the awkward dinner. “Am I going to see you again?” he asked. I thought for a minute, then typed my reply. “Probably not.” Seconds later I had another message. “Really?”