Mind Of Man: My Dating Disaster Story
Posted by: John DeVore
Filed in:
guys
9:30AM, Wednesday July 15th 2009
Here’s my worst first date story: she told me she was lactose intolerant, but ordered the French onion soup. I thought, “How irresponsible.” Every woman I know has at least one horrifying dating disaster tale. Most women have multiple ones. They usually begin with “I met him on Match.com” or “He was the best friend of my second cousin’s college roommate” and end with a daring escape, a mad dash into a cab, and unhinged texts from the guy for the next two weeks.
I’ve been the disaster date…. I’ve been a story told over mimosas to eye-rolling besties clucking disapprovingly. One doesn’t always get to be the hero of their own movie. Sometimes, one is the villain in someone else’s movie.
My dating disaster stories are just… boring. Perfunctory, but very polite. We meet up, engage in small talk, split the nachos, and chew, chew, chew. Then a peck on the check. A bad date for me is like a scene from a Victorian period movie where the two English stiffs awkwardly masticate in total, deathly silence. If there’s no spark, there’s no spark. I’ve been on a bunch of first dates like these that are more drizzle than lightening bolt, about as romantic as two UN diplomats negotiating international policy. That’s as bad as it’s gotten. I’ve never had a woman show up rude, or utterly vapid, or a total train wreck. Sure, over time, they might have revealed themselves to be harridans, or banshees, or heart-charbroiling succubae. But the point is, the truth invariably came out while we were dating. Not on the first date.
Maybe women are better at first impressions then men.
I’ve heard stories about men that make me fear for my gender. I know for a true fact, through completely scientific means, that women talk about dates gone wrong with their girlfriends 38% of their time. (The other 62% of the time is spent talking about shoes, trifling female rivals, and sex. Some of you even speak of things called “books.”) There was my friend who went out with the investment banker who couldn’t get her name right and made the waitress cry. I’ve heard tales of wedding rings, body odor you could taste from across a table, and iPhones deployed in order to proudly show off pictures of hot babes who’d happily sampled the owner’s zipperwurst.
There are the nicknames: The Non-Stop Texter, Rapey Eyes, Mr. Mouth Breather. I don’t normally approve of nicknaming men, but these dudes deserved it. Then there’s my special friend who thought she was at the end of a fantastic date, making out with a handsome new man in his trendy loft on his comfortable, yet fashionably minimalist couch. Until, mid face suck, he whipped it out and began to give it a good strangle. I just don’t understand that last one. Sometimes I like to pretend I’m an FBI Profiler of Love, and get into the heads of dudes like that, to try to understand why he’d pull his penis out of his pants while making out on a first date. All I can come up with is, “Now! While her mind is clouded with passion… she will never notice me masturbating! It’s the perfect plan, boo-wah-ha-ha-ha-ha!”
When my friends tell me these stories, I feel like apologizing for my gender. And apologize I shall. Because I’ve been the disaster date. Never the victim, but the perpetrator. I’ve been a story told over mimosas to eye-rolling besties clucking disapprovingly. One doesn’t always get to be the hero of their own movie. Sometimes, one is the villain in someone else’s movie. Knowing this is the best cure to surrendering to the noise of these modern times and fully becoming a narcissistic douchebag.
She was out of my league, that was for sure. And not in a superficial way, though she was effortlessly gorgeous. Her s**t was just together. She was comfortable in her skin, and my skin was ill-fitting, thrift store tweed. I asked her out, even though I had no business asking anyone out. She was into me, and my ego overruled my heart, which had recently been stewed like a tomato, and my brain, which I had been marinating in whiskey for months. It was a dark time for the rebel alliance. I was in that terribly confusing demilitarized zone between the rebound that proves you’re not a deformed, unlovable homunculus and the point where you’ve completed your emotional molting and can safely rejoin the dating world.
We made a plan to see a movie in the afternoon. So the night before, I went on a bender. An epic, sloppy bender. Fires had to be put out, you understand. I grew gills and swam in an ocean of beer, like a lovelorn souse, and woke up the next afternoon an hour before show time. To say I was hung over is an understatement. My liver was sitting on the edge of my bed, smoking a cigarette and muttering to itself. I bolted for my date in the same clothes I had passed out in, not noticing the splatter of gyro sandwich goop on my shirt.
She had purchased the tickets, and patiently waited for me to zombie-shuffle into the theater ten minutes late. I bought her a box of chocolate-covered peanuts, and one very big bottle of water for myself, which I promptly drank in two great gulps. Lucky lady, she was going to the movies with an apprentice wino! Then I passed out during the movie and serenaded my date with rattling snores. Afterward, because I am capable of shame, I concocted some utterly absurd reason why I couldn’t have dinner. What was I supposed to say? “I can’t eat, because if I do, I will puke up my soul in a viscous, liquid form?” I can’t even remember what nonsensical excuse I came up with, maybe I’m blocking it out. What an inconsiderate jerk I was. We don’t talk much. Which is totally understandable.
So, that’s my dating disaster story. Pick you up at 7?
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CatGoesNomNom
wrote on July 15 2009 @ 09:40 am: [report]
God I look forward to these so much. Why oh why did you go on a bender, John? Nerves?
In college, this cute boy in my Asian/Af lit class asked me out, and I was pumped. He was smart, funny, and seemed so laid back. We agreed to go to a play on campus, and I picked him up. As soon as he got in the car, I could smell him: he smelled like he fell in a vat of wine. He was so drunk, he could hardly talk. Because I’m an idiot, we went to the play anyway, and it was just awful. I was so pissed off that he would go to date wasted. Obviously there was no second date. Why do guys do that?
Riley
wrote on July 15 2009 @ 09:47 am: [report]
@Cat - In college and for a while post-college, you don’t need a reason to go on a bender. At least nobody I knew, myself included, did. Could have been boredom or someone just said “hey, wanna go get wasted?”, those are my experiences.
ChoJinn
wrote on July 15 2009 @ 10:05 am: [report]
“My liver was sitting on the edge of my bed, smoking a cigarette and muttering to itself.”
Great.
sadie
wrote on July 15 2009 @ 10:28 am: [report]
Some girls are bad dates. My favorite story came from a friend’s ex-boyfriend. The had met the girl on some dating site and asked her to lunch. She told him “I know how to tell if a guy likes me” and he said “oh really?” and she looked under the table at his crotch and said “you don’t like me yet.” Then she went on and on about sex the entire date, asking if he liked crotchless panties. She also asked if he’d like to go lingerie shopping with her after lunch. Classy! He never called her again.
Lauren Fritsky
wrote on July 15 2009 @ 10:38 am: [report]
Rapey Eyes, haha.
CatGoesNomNom
wrote on July 15 2009 @ 11:00 am: [report]
@Riley: I didn’t mean why did he go on a bender at all, I mean, I went to college, so I did it too. I just meant, why did he go on one with a first date the very next afternoon? I figured nerves, as that would make sense. But man, I had plenty of benders in college.
H. Blue
wrote on July 15 2009 @ 11:29 am: [report]
FANTASTIC piece of writing!
Ryan
wrote on July 15 2009 @ 12:02 pm: [report]
“It was a dark time for the rebel alliance.”
Nicely done.
Molly Jean
wrote on July 15 2009 @ 04:57 pm: [report]
You are awful (although I’m sure you were probably very young when you made such an ass of yourself…like 19…right? right?)! Too funny!
I love first dates! Even blind ones. After a bad one, I don’t mope around, though…instead I always write a quick country music song about it & sing it to my girlfriends the following day during our smoke break. Like in the case of your date, I would probably say something like (just off the top of my head, you know):
“he showed up lookin’ like he needed to sleep it off/
he smelled so bad he sorta made me cough/
couldn’t believe the jerk had the nerve to snore/
bet he wouldn’t have if i dressed more like a whore/
mama would have been proud cause i handled him with class/
as for John DeVore, hope it’s a while before he gets any a—”
forgive me…been out in the heat all day, in a silly mood. hope John DeVore outlives me so I can read his funny stuff forever!!! thanks frisky for always making me LOL!
wonderfultonight
wrote on July 15 2009 @ 07:48 pm: [report]
Funny and clever, Molly Jean.
bbpickles
wrote on July 15 2009 @ 08:27 pm: [report]
Very funny, I love it…..
I had a guy whip out his peen while we were making out once! He only did it because he didn’t want to cum in his pants, apparently he thought it was a better idea to cum all over my brand new tank top! The best part is we were sitting up next to each other!!!! No dry humping. No clothing was removed. No touching. Nothing. So you can imagine my surprise.
Oh how I wish someone would have taken a picture of my face at that very moment.
retro chic
wrote on July 15 2009 @ 09:47 pm: [report]
Wow! My liver just ran out of the room screaming just picturing yours. Only *you,* JDV, can turn your cirrhotic self into an unwitting alter ego after a night of binging!
silvergurl
wrote on July 16 2009 @ 09:14 am: [report]
john, oh john. you make-a me laugh.
Shasta
wrote on July 16 2009 @ 12:26 pm: [report]
I’ve become bored with these innane “Bad First Date” stories from girls.
It’s become a competition -
“Biggest Loser: Dating Edition.” I think half the sh** is made up. Or…
They’ll date anybody just to have something to talk about with their Besties. No one’s dating radar is consistently that bad.
writergirl
wrote on July 16 2009 @ 01:17 pm: [report]
Mr. DeVore, you did it again. Incredibly well-written, humorous piece. And I am sure MANY of these single ladies would still go out with you even after learning of your one horror story.
onewriter
wrote on July 16 2009 @ 01:26 pm: [report]
John, you REALLY need to write a book…Call it, “Wisdom from the Mind of Man” lol I’d buy it in a heartbeat.
bbpickles
wrote on July 16 2009 @ 01:41 pm: [report]
@Shasta- Can you honestly say that you have never been on a bad date? Come on! I don’t know anyone that constantly goes out on horrific dates, it will happen to the best of us and all we can do is learn our lesson and be able to laugh about it later!
toyen
wrote on July 16 2009 @ 02:47 pm: [report]
French onion soup has lactose!?
Birdman
wrote on July 16 2009 @ 03:10 pm: [report]
What I see here: A man with no idea of what it means to be a man pretending to be what women think men are like.
_jsw_
wrote on July 16 2009 @ 03:15 pm: [report]
@toyen: It’s usually topped with lots of cheese; I think that’s what he meant.
@Birdman: By “here”, do you mean your comment?
Birdman
wrote on July 16 2009 @ 03:35 pm: [report]
The actual content of the article: “I went on a date. It was bad. I was awkward.” Everything else is rhetorical flourish, the literary equivalent of a cloth napkin and candle for a McDonald’s Happy Meal. The one saving grace is that it reminds me of Shakespeare: It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
John DeVore
wrote on July 16 2009 @ 03:39 pm: [report]
@Birdman So my column is on par with “Macbeth” is that what you’re saying?
_jsw_
wrote on July 16 2009 @ 03:49 pm: [report]
The Birdman doth protest too much, methinks.
_jsw_
wrote on July 16 2009 @ 04:16 pm: [report]
*Post-Googling: I meant in the modern meaning of “protest”, not Shakespeare’s meaning for it.
Ms.NGuerrero
wrote on July 16 2009 @ 05:05 pm: [report]
LOL this was soo freaking amazing!!
I was embarrassed for you as I read it =]
This was just awesome! =]
Asta
wrote on July 16 2009 @ 07:27 pm: [report]
If it were me, I probably would have left you in the theater.
Shasta
wrote on July 16 2009 @ 07:31 pm: [report]
@bbpickles. Yes. I’ve had a few bad ones, but the experiences were funny, not life-ending. And I do think there are women who have serial bad-dates, particularly due to craigslist and match.
TotallyRidiculous
wrote on July 16 2009 @ 09:30 pm: [report]
@ John, Yes, it’s exactly like Macbeth, except minus the death. That’s what I was thinking the whole time, birdman just said it first! That and “Man, I could really go for a Happy Meal, but only if I get a candle and a cloth napkin. I wonder what kind of prizes they give in those now…” You truly are a modern literary genius.
onewriter
wrote on July 16 2009 @ 11:01 pm: [report]
@jsw i like the way you think-all your comments on all the articles I’ve seen are good
flooze
wrote on July 17 2009 @ 03:13 pm: [report]
Have you ever seen the site “sorry mom, I f**k the worst dudes” or something like that?? there are some really awful date and hook up stories about guys. They tried to do a version “sorry Dad” but they just didnt seem as bad as the men. But I am sure there are some real lady train wrecks out there…anyway, your date doesnt sound so bad! Do you ever see her around?
alphabete
wrote on July 18 2009 @ 12:46 am: [report]
I was once a bad date. I took a guy out (in a cab) to a restaurant (Dennys) and remarked, as we got out “Wow that cab driver looks just like my gynecologist!” He handled this surprisingly gracefully. We proceeded to have awkward conversation and nibbled at our food until my mom picked us up. Lame, I know but I was maybe 17 and at the time I had zero concept of dating. None. Unsurprisingly I’m still no good at it but wisely stay out of it. At the very least I know I’m not being a bad date!
Terrible T
wrote on July 24 2009 @ 09:00 pm: [report]
“All the world’s indeed a stage”... and apparently the audience full of critics. Nicely, funnily written piece, John. Just my two cents. And 7 would be just fine. I’ll have a bowl of menudo ready *just in case*
Titaniumhalos
wrote on August 12 2009 @ 10:40 am: [report]
Haha, I love your brutal honesty. It is obvious you weren’t really into her, if you knew you’d wake up totally out of your mind the next day. No big deal. I’ve heard much worse horror dating stories. A friend of mine dated a guy who after 10 minutes of sitting in a high class Sushi Bar grabbed her hands and looked deep into her eyes and said, “You vill neva leave me! Say you vill neva leave me!” lol the second and last date they went on, the guy brought his sister along. He was Ukrainian I think. LOL Poor Rachel.