Bad dates? We've had a few...
Howdee folks. I realize I haven’t written in a week or so. I really have nothing much of interest to report. But I do have a new project, and I’ll share it with my blog groupies, cuz maybe you’d like to help a sista out.
Ladies - I want to hear your bad dating stories. The worst, the funniest, the most embarrassing, the most uncomfortable, whatever. It could be even be sad. Blind dates, first dates, any date. Weird guys, strange quirks, the oddest thing ever requested of you. We could even throw in a few good ones, so to you optimists out there, toss me a bone.
I would like to compile and categorize all of these into a publication of some sort. This is phase 1. You can choose to be anonymous, or I can credit you with the story. Please don’t leave them here in the comments section – I would prefer you email them to me at: datinghorror@gmail.com. If you want to be completely anonymous, email me from an email account that I don’t know you by. You can easily create a Yahoo or Gmail account that you don’t have to keep.
And before any guy (I’m looking at you, Tom) reads this and thinks I'm sexist because I only addressed the ladies - dude, if you want to send me a story, that's cool with me. It’s just that women are more likely to share stories like this than men. No offense.
Fair is fair, so I’ll share one of the strangest dates I’ve ever had.
I was 16 and going on a first date with this guy. He came to pick me up (ooh, car date!) and we were going to dinner. When we got to the restaurant, he came around and opened my door for me. When closing it behind me, he slammed his hand in the door. Hard. I mean like full-on hand-in-door slam. He let out a yell and yanked his hand out. There was blood everywhere. He grabbed a towel from the trunk and insisted that we go inside and eat. So we’re sitting there after placing our order, and he looks like he’s gonna pass out. His hand is wrapped up in the towel, still bleeding profusely and I’m thinking, how the hell am I supposed to eat now? I finally talk him into going to the hospital. We spent the next 4 hours in the emergency room, and he got 22 stitches in his hand. I barely made it home by curfew. Surprisingly enough, after that incident, we dated for several months.
I’ve got a million of ‘em. Hope you do too. Tell me!
Ladies - I want to hear your bad dating stories. The worst, the funniest, the most embarrassing, the most uncomfortable, whatever. It could be even be sad. Blind dates, first dates, any date. Weird guys, strange quirks, the oddest thing ever requested of you. We could even throw in a few good ones, so to you optimists out there, toss me a bone.
I would like to compile and categorize all of these into a publication of some sort. This is phase 1. You can choose to be anonymous, or I can credit you with the story. Please don’t leave them here in the comments section – I would prefer you email them to me at: datinghorror@gmail.com. If you want to be completely anonymous, email me from an email account that I don’t know you by. You can easily create a Yahoo or Gmail account that you don’t have to keep.
And before any guy (I’m looking at you, Tom) reads this and thinks I'm sexist because I only addressed the ladies - dude, if you want to send me a story, that's cool with me. It’s just that women are more likely to share stories like this than men. No offense.
Fair is fair, so I’ll share one of the strangest dates I’ve ever had.
I was 16 and going on a first date with this guy. He came to pick me up (ooh, car date!) and we were going to dinner. When we got to the restaurant, he came around and opened my door for me. When closing it behind me, he slammed his hand in the door. Hard. I mean like full-on hand-in-door slam. He let out a yell and yanked his hand out. There was blood everywhere. He grabbed a towel from the trunk and insisted that we go inside and eat. So we’re sitting there after placing our order, and he looks like he’s gonna pass out. His hand is wrapped up in the towel, still bleeding profusely and I’m thinking, how the hell am I supposed to eat now? I finally talk him into going to the hospital. We spent the next 4 hours in the emergency room, and he got 22 stitches in his hand. I barely made it home by curfew. Surprisingly enough, after that incident, we dated for several months.
I’ve got a million of ‘em. Hope you do too. Tell me!
posted by Jenn at
9:41 AM
5 Comments:
Oh Christ! I've dated and married every creepy whacko broad from here to Canada. You want stories? I've got a novel.
The Great Doofleboy has spoken.
So what are we talkin here? Do you wanna hear about the broad that didn't use plates or the ones that liked to bang on elementary school playgrounds? Car stories? How about the broad that analyzed her vegetables as still life artwork?
Dammit?!?
I'd like to hear about the one who didn't use plates.
Cool, Let me know if you dug it.
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