NetChick’s Blog Comment Contest is here!
Okay, I have a nifty Christmas gift (not re-gifted, or anything!) that I’ll send out to the best (weirdest, funniest, silliest)Â dating story someone leaves in my comments.
*Â Â I’ll be completely impartial, and put a voting mechanism on this site to ensure everyone gets a crack at winning!
** Contest closes for voting on Friday, December 15th at 11:59 pm!
So… Give me what you got! 
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I would like a first date. I’m looking forward to a date. I hope it’s a date on a Friday. Wouldn’t it be spiffy if it was a date a Friday?
Tanya’s new contest unfair on non-first daters!
Tanya’s new contest unfair on non-first daters!
Tanya’s new contest unfair on non-first daters!
Daters! daters … DaTERS!!
(( You’re a bunch of Daters! ))
Daters, not just for Midnight snacks anymore!
okay… You’ve convinced me to change it to “DATING” story instead of “FIRST” date story.
Satisfied?
Oh OH!!!! (( Waves hand in the air!!! ))
Me oh me!!! PLLLLEEEEEEAZZZEE pick me!!!!
Hmmm
No wait… Im thinking… my two stories wouldn’t go over very well as 95% of your girls who are girls, are actually girls. (( Bite’s tongue. ))
As a consolation, may I lick the gift before you send it out?? Just once!
No… I just said I wanted a date. Hey waiiiiit? Are you trying to confuse me?
I was 17. We were high school classmates. Her father was about as overprotective as you can imagine.
Examples:
- He insisted on an interview before he would allow me to take his daughter out (“serve as her escort” were his exact words, if memory serves.) He asked me about my “intentions”, and outlined behaviors that were and were not acceptable. Holding hands was considered unacceptable. Come to think of it, any touching was a no-no.
- He drove. He said either he drove, or there would be no date. He made me sit in the back seat.
- We went to a movie. He picked the title – our choices were too “racy”.
- He sat in between us. That no-touching thing again, apparently.
- After the date, he drove he home and couldn’t get me out of the car fast enough.
I rather liked her, but he so weirded me out that this ended up being the only date we ever went on. Just thinking about running the Daddy Gauntlet was enough to keep me away.
The good news? I met the woman who would eventually become my wife later that summer. Fate ensured that this guy was a doof.
Since I will give pretty much anyone ONE chance I have a large number in my vault – that have lead to some great lessons learned. Including:
1. I started randomly talking to some guy on the subway in Vienna who had asked me the time. We ended up going for coffee where he started dropping hints that he wanted to go to the porn house to watch movies around the corner with me. He had already begun to grope me much to my disgust. When I refused he walked me to the subway, we got on and I jumped off the train just as the doors were closing. The train pulled out of the station with him banging on the door “come back!!!!!”
2. The lovely first date in which my ex and were enjoying a lovely plate of nachos and beer in a Halifax pub. Everything was going really well until some guy runs by the open window yells “DIE MUTHA ***CKER” and throws an exploding bottle of mustard through the window. I was covered in head to toe with mustard for no apparent reason. My date, while an engaging and entertaining man, was no fighter – I mean, we wore the same pant size! So while he didn’t go out and defend my honour he did manage to negotiate a free meal for us with the apologetic waitress.
3. A blind date which may not have lead to love and happiness but revolutionized my life in so many other positive ways. Thanks again T!
I define “first date” as the first time you go out with a particular person (not the very first date ever with anyone).
OK. On a first date with this one particular guy he decided to show me the great photo collages that he had made for his family for christmas. Which sounds really nice but, his recent ex-girlfriend was in them! Well, I guess that put the writing on the wall….
The firefighter puking over my balcony:
http://www.worldwidewatercooler.com/2006/02/02/i-want-you-bad/
‘Nuff said.
Ah, the Incident from which most of my Rules come from. It’s not so much a first date as a one time drunken encounter, but we’ll count it for this purpose.
Note: It’s rated R. Hide your children’s eyes.
So, I’m at this wedding. My cousin’s wedding, no less. (Well, third cousin, seventeen times removed, or some such bullshit). The mother of the groom (who is my second cousin 92 times removed, or whatever) encourages me to dance with the best man because he’s the only single person in the entire wedding party, and he’s lonely.
Yeah, ok. He’s reasonably attractive. Not smoking hot, not particularly my type, but not fugly. So, we dance, and have a few drinks.
Did I mention there was an open bar?
We have a few more drinks. He seems nice. We dance a bit more, and end up going for a walk where we end up making out a little. I’m such a brazen hussy. Anyhoo, we return, dance a little more, and by this time, it’s getting late, and the wedding is quieting down a bit. My other family members (did I mention that my parents, sister, uncle, and various cousins were also in attendance?) decide to go home, I let them know that I’ll be staying in Maple Ridge for the night. Did I mention the wedding was in Maple Ridge?
Rule #1: Never, ever stay in Maple Ridge overnight.
My family laughs at me, because well, that’s what they do when I’m being a brazen hussy. I’m trashed, but still coherent enough to insist that the boy doesn’t drive. We catch a ride back to his place with some more sober buddies. He doesn’t live far, and we can easily walk back in the morning to get it.
His place is decent. Basement suite in a nice house, decorated a little frat-boy-ish, but not a complete disaster area. No gross stains in the sink, no beer cans from three parties ago stacked in the corner.
We make it to the bedroom, and I ask if he has any condoms. Normally, I have condoms available. Except, I hadn’t carried a purse to the wedding, and only had my ID & bank card in the pocket of my jacket. No condoms. Crap. Still, I have a plentiful supply at home, and I firmly believe that any person who has ANY CHANCE WHATSOEVER of having sex with someone they’re not fluid bonded with should have condoms-a-plenty in their house.
This guy? One novelty, bubblegum flavored condom from the bottom of a desk. No.
Rule #2: No matter where you’re going, always carry condoms. Even if you’re going to a family wedding.
We end up walking to a nearby gas station. Did you know there are 24 hour gas stations in Maple Ridge? I’m expecting that soon they’ll have electricity as well.
We head back, continue where we left off. We’ve chatted a bit at this point, and I’ve mentioned some of my more … deviant practices. At one point, he says, “Do something kinky.”
…what the fuck? I refuse, on the grounds that I’m both wasted and I don’t know him.
“Come on, do something kinky. But don’t hurt me, and don’t touch my ass.”
Riiight. I flat out say “No.” He never really lets it drop, but I just start ignoring him. Through my drunken haze, I’m starting to think I should be somewhere else. But, the drunken haze wins, and I eventually fall asleep.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I wake up to some insistent prodding at my backside. Pardon-fucking-me? You are so NOT trying to have anal sex with me with no warning, no lube, and NO FUCKING CONDOM. I roll over, protecting my assets, and feign sleep…
Morning comes, I insist that no, I don’t need a ride all the way home (to my parents place), the nearest bus stop will be fine. Please. Ok then, the skytrain. The West Coast Express? ANYTHING, but don’t make me spend a whole half hour in the car with you. He insists. I suppose I could have just … not given him directions, but I’m trying to be polite, and I want this to end as soon as possible.
Most Important Rule of All: Never EVER go home with someone for the first time when you’re drunk off your tree. Your judgment is SERIOUSLY impaired.
In the light of day, he’s horrifyingly dull. His most important possession is his truck. He’s very proud of all the animals he’s shot and the amount of budweiser he can pack away. He’s a redneck of the worst sort. He is everything I dislike about Maple Ridge.
He gives me his number. I offer to give him my email address (I can easily ignore emails) — he doesn’t have an email address, or know how to use it. Do I have ANYTHING in common with this person? Are we even the same species? I tell him I’ll give him a call if I’m ever in the neighbourhood. I throw the number away almost immediately.
And my family? Oh, my family. They will NEVER let me live this down. Le sigh. And now for the final rule:
Never get that drunk around your family. They’ll encourage you to do the stupidest shit, I swear.
I started writing mine out, then decided to share it on my site too. Link.
the pot-head who told me he almost killed himself… then asked me to make out with him:
http://fubsy.net/blog/archive/2005/05/take_two.html
*sigh*
Well, these rock on mine already…. But here are 2. When I was internet dating 6 year or so ago, and over the course of a couple years, I had met two very nice girls who went on to be very best friends.
1) It was a Summer night, and I had arranged to meet her at Subeez. Got there, it was packed in and out, so we walked up to Georgia Grill to order drinks… getting to know each other one the way. By the time her glass and my pint showed up, we were pretty comfortable in conversation. I was getting animated about something or other moments before I flailed my arm, and knocked my pint over… watching its entire contents wash across the table into her lap.
- -
Time started moving very slowly…
- -
It was horrifying… I had no idea what was about to happen. She looked at me in almost a shocked expression… as was I back.
- -
And then suddenly… She just laughed.
- -
We were just always together after that. We never considered ourselves to be a couple, but we quickly went on to be best friends.
2) A couple years later I went on a first date with this super hot girl once who in her online picture looked a little bit like 7 of 9 (especially with the top she was wearing). I was astonished that she actually showed up to McDonalds. Her presence was a little intimidating actually… so I just started talking about anything that would come to mind. I think I blathered on about the Knights Templar and their relationship to Oak Island in Nova Scotia for a couple hours.
- –
I would say it went out rather well after that.
- –
Now, I don’t know about you, but that just shouldn’t have worked.
Ha! Great stories guys! This will make voting very interesting! I can’t wait to see if anyone else has a good story to share.
And V… LOL: McDonalds. Pishaw. I wouldn’t have shown up to anything less than the Bread Garden, and we did close that place down! Heheheh! (And extra, extra bonus points for the flowers you brought with you! I think those flowers are why we’re still awesome friends today.Â
I’ll have to put mine on my blog, I may miss the contest, but thanks for the idea!
I don’t do dates ; I move in with the guys instead !
Hum… maybe I should give it a try though ; I would move less often…
Have a great weekend !
Gotcha! Now the world knows that you dated MEEEEE!!!
(( Im sooo sneeky … and smrat ))
I have a question for Lara…. How the hell did he create an explosive mustard bottle??
Escapes me some ass threw some sort of huge package of musta5rd through the pub window – I was covered from head to toe in yellow processed goo. It was great bonding however and made for a memorable first date. And for the record, that wasn’t the only explosive thing about that relationship.
Another memorable date:
Important details:
manhattans
scrabble
sleep
kiss
bet
I win
enough said
I want a different contest now.
vern – you should know better than to play amongst the big dogs.
O.K., first dates.
And not the good kind.
All my friends, they want me married,
where I can’t do any damage.
So, they meet me out, and leave me with a
young lady.
They went to use the phone, and apparently
couldn’t find it, because they didn’t come back.
They left me with this young lady, but I wasn’t
too unhappy. She was pretty as the picture you
paid a yankee 50 dollars to take. And she smiled
sweet, and we sat down.
First thing she asked was “What have you done for the
enviroment lately?”
Lord help me. I told her, I decided not to have
no children, there wasn’t anybody could ask me
to do no more than that.
She had some trouble with this. She knew it was
supposed to be funny, but she couldn’t see anything
but taillights.
So she was a Vaygun.
She didn’t eat no meat, nor wear it, nor cheese,
nor alcohol. I was wondering what she would eat,
the list was so long, she didn’t have much past
manna left. Talk about militant. I’ve seen
Baptist preachers didn’t push so hard, nor expect
so much. I’m thinking, maybe I need to go find
that phone myself, she’d probably be prettier
out of earshot.
She’s starting to make my head ache, and my eyes water.
The waitress comes. “Didn’t she find waiting on men
demeaning?”
And she sets to ordering.
“Not this, but that. And leave off this,
and add that, and don’t let it get close to this,
and did you know chicken feels the same fear as us?”
The waitress is looking at me, and fixing to cry.
So I did they only thing I could.
Gimme the biggest, rarest steak you got, 2 steps
from screaming, bloody as a hemophiliac shaving
for the first time. And shrimp. And if you can think
of anything else to kill for me back there,
I got a hammer in the car.
So the waitress gets all giggeldy, and the girl lets her go,
and turns on me.
“Would you eat your brother?”
I don’t think you and me both could take him,
and if we got lucky and did, he’d be stringy
as all hell.
“And didn’t I know drinking was bad for me?”
Might be bad for you, honey, but it makes me
taller, and everybody else better looking.
If it did any more for me, I’d never stop.
On and on, till I almost started to enjoy it.
Tough crowd, but at least I was amused.
But Lord God, she ate slow.
Taking her home, I’m thinking about the rubber
I’m going to lay down leaving, lay it down thick
as speed-bumps.
And at the door, I’m leaning toward the car,
and damnif she didn’t ask if I was going to call.
I told her, soons I find a phone.
Hmmm 20 minutes after my post?? Watching for my response were you?
As they say, never play with a playa!
[...] Got some great dating stories to vote on! Click here to open the comments in a new window, and then vote on your favourite story! [...]
Vern I wear my badge proudly. Let me know if you ever need lessons.
Hey,
I work w/ Lara, and after voting for her (thx for the link Lara) I felt obligated to join the ranks and lay it all out on the line for a group of random strangers (god bless the internet…).
Here’s one of my horrific first date stories, as well as the ‘Why I hate Sushi’ story.
So, once upon a time, long before I met the love of my life (save it naysayers), I went through a phase where I was inclined to date anything w/ a pulse. So enters the guy. I met him through my roommate at the time in a mutual setting and we hit it off so well it led to a first official ‘date’.
After multiple phone conversations, we decide that he’ll come over and we’ll cook a nice dinner together and watch this set of movies he brought with him that through conversation he learned I really wanted to see.
Cue to work earlier that day, sushi Friday was upon us again however at my job at the time, I was constantly tied up and forced to leave my food on the desk for much longer than I probably should have… scratch that, much longer than in retrospect I KNOW i should have. I manage to find the time to scarf it down between phone calls, eagerly looking forward to the Italian dish my cassanova was planning.
Long and short of it was, partway through my delicious hearty meatsauce and garlic bread I’m breaking into a hot sweat and by the time I am about halfway through the white chocolate cheesecake and strawberry sauce, my tummy decides it’s high time to make my new date wear the first course.
*sigh*
I knew he had to stick around for a little while because any guy who was able to resist the urge from running long enough to hold my hair while I finished puking up raw fish, pasta, garlic toast and cheesecake w/ strawberries and THEN tuck me in my bed w/ water and a garbage can was good as gold.
What’s even better was he managed to get down the street to pick me up some pepto! He lasted a little bit longer but the problem with the kind of guy you could walk all over is that, eventually, you do.
Thanks all for the time, good luck Lara w/ your voting!
Hey Nicole! Ha! Awesome story!! Thanks for sharing it…
I have to vote for Lara’s story. Number 1, 2 or 3, they all rock, (and knowing Lara, I’m betting there’s lots more stories yet to be shared…)
Okay people. If you vote for Lara, her head will probably explode. The city doesn’t need yet another Lara win. Isn’t civilization bad enough already?!?!
Come on! What about the ozone layer? Keep Lara out of the clouds, and on Earth … with her dog: Rufus, or Baddington or something.
Don’t be sheep. Go for the other story! She probably really enjoyed being (edit)
YAY! I LOVE CAROL! I have no idea where you came from but you are awesome!
Vern – I can’t help it if I have this insatiable desire to beat you…maybe we should do something about that someday.
And my dog is Boscoe.