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 plays a prank, but then gets his ass handed back to him.Revenge Is Sweet, via email, writes:
It was freshman year in college when this guy from my English Lit class asked me out on a date. At first I wasn’t sure — I wasn’t really all that attracted to him, or myself for that matter (I had added the dreaded freshman 15 and then some!) But, since I was flattered by his attention and curious about his motives, I agreed. He said friends of his were having a party and that he’d pick me up at about 9.
Mr. Hunkster Studly — I’ll call him Sean — was almost an hour late, with no explanation. I was fuming, and about to tell him where to go when he tossed a motorcycle helmet at my stomach and told me to climb on and hold on. I plunked the helmet on my head, painfully aware that it ruined my hair-do. I climbed up on the back of the motorcycle, and proceeded to hang on for dear life. My first ride on a motorcycle, and I was stoked.
We arrived at the party, and I attempted to dismount from the motorcycle. Sean failed to warn me about the tailpipe’s placement and the fact it was extremely hot. I burned the hell out of my leg during my dismount. I scowled. I was already pissed at him for being late, the helmet ruining my hair and now he caused me real, physical pain. I still stupidly went into the party with him. The party was filled with his guy friends, and their dates.
I immediately froze in humiliation and fear. He and his friends had gathered who they considered to be the most pathetic, unattractive, virginal freshman girls on campus. It was the most appalling sight I’d ever witnessed, girls sitting around with their heads hung in shame, like they were not worthy to look at their dates. I got more pissed by the second, and asked Sean to take me home, as I was not feeling well. He told me everyone’s first beer did that to them, and that it wasn’t worth leaving over.
I said, “Yeah, well you and your friends are creeps and I’m out of here.” He started to laugh, I gathered up my coat and purse and stormed out of there. He chased after me, saying I was making him look bad in front of his buddies. I pulled a can of mace out of my purse and threatened to douse him with it if he didn’t leave me alone. He took off back for the party. I walked to the bus stop and took the bus back to campus.
While stewing on the bus ride, I came up with a plan for revenge. I knew from English Lit class what brand of chapstick he used, and I also knew that my roommate had a cold sore. Upon my arrival back to campus, I popped into the student union, picked up some burn salve for my leg, and a tube of Sean’s chapstick. Upon returning to my dorm room, I asked my roommate Emma to use the chapstick, taking care to rub as much of the surface on her cold sore as humanly possible. Emma complied, and I slipped the tainted chapstick into my bag. Two days later in English Lit, I swapped out Sean’s chapstick for the now tainted tube.
The only thing that pleased me more than seeing the cold sore bloom on Sean’s face was hearing of his panic. He couldn’t figure out how he had gotten the cold sore, and was depressed it was ruining his looks. I savored my victory by telling him “Well, Sean, at least your outside now matches how ugly your insides are” and walked away.