In defense of the sanctimonious women's studies set || First feminist blog on the internet

Two questions:

piny

Is it strange to make a special excursion to a celebrated French patisserie/cafe–croque monsieur, eclairs, fresh croissants, custardy bread pudding, the whole nine–and order muesli?

Second, off of the digressive flowers conversation: Worst date you’ve ever had. Discuss.

50 thoughts on Two questions:

  2. Well, if I knew what muesli was, I might could answer that first question.

    As to the second question, this is one of those times when I’m glad that I’ve never “dated” in the traditional/colloquial sense. No bad dates!

  3. Worst date I ever had? Went on a first date with a very handsome guy while in college. We went to dinner. Well and good. Until he started to *rap* at the table, then proceeded to puncutate certain lines by passing gas. Need I mention the guy could barely manage his silverware? I’m sure that’s mild in the universe of bad dates but I still cringe at the memory.

  4. Well, yes, but isn’t it a little like going to Ruby Tuesday’s and asking for tempeh ratatouille? Plus, granola with yogurt isn’t something you need other people to prepare for you.

    And yet, I’ve totally done this: I go out to a hangover diner breakfast and really, really want…oat bran. Cold oat bran. With almond milk.

  5. Well, if I knew what muesli was, I might could answer that first question.

    Muesli is granola, usually with fruit and yogurt. Yer basic healt-conscious, colon-cleansing, high-fiber breakfast, which is why it’s not really a patisserie staple.

  6. This is the worst date I’ve ever had, and perhaps one of the worst dates of all time. Years ago, when I was a young, rambunctious and adventurous sprout, I accepted an invitation from a man I was acquainted with. At the beginning of the evening he hit me up for money. For what? I asked. “Oh, I don’t know. Some weed or crack?” Well, I told him, I don’t like crack and this is supposed to be you taking me on a date, not the other way around. (This might be a good time to mention that I didn’t know about his affection for crack, or I never would have gone out with him.) So he gave up, but when we left the house (in my truck, since he apparently smoked up his car money) he asked me if I’d make a detour to his sister’s house so he could get some money from her. I obliged and was directed to a really horrible neighborhood and a really horrible house which had a lot of traffic going in and out. And he left me sitting in the truck while he went in, but he didn’t come out…and didn’t come out…and didn’t come out. I waited about 20 minutes (no, I don’t know why I waited that long) and watched all the in-and-out traffic and got hit up for cigarettes about 15 times and finally said “fuck it” and took off. I’d barely gotten halfway down the street when I heard yelling and then a loud thump. My date had chased me down the street and actually launched himself at my truck, and managed to land in the bed. When I pulled over he quickly got into the front with me and was very angry that I had left him.

    No, I did not go out with him again. And I feel immense pity for anybody who has had a worst date than this.

  7. Strange? No. A sacrilege? Gawd, yes.

    Worst date: Hmm…too many to choose from. But I do remember a guy who argued with me on why I should give into his demands for a blow job even though it was our first time meeting (this was back in college). “I just need this right now,” was his reason on why I should do it. I suggested he call his mother and ask her to suck his dick, because really, she’s the only one that would care enough, between the two of us, to do something that “important” for him. He wasn’t pleased with that suggestion. I had the nerve to be puzzled on why not. 🙂

    Really, I haven’t had any really horrible dates. Just boring ones that never go anywhere. Kinda like water torture. They just grind and grind at me little by little to the point that I just want to give up dating completely.

  8. I’ve had some bad dates in my time, but one that immediately comes to mind is being taken to “this great Italian place” — which turned out to be The Olive Garden, where he actually had the nerve to say, “Would you like to select the wine?” Yes, just give me a moment to look over the giant laminated menu. I’ll take the Olive Garden House Red, please. Does it come in a box?

    Nice as the young man was, he didn’t have anything to say, and the date ended up being me asking him millions of questions, which got increasingly creative and ridiculous (i.e., “Would you rather have long fake nails that you had to get airbrushed to match the season/holidy — i.e., red and green for Christmas, hearts of Valentine’s day, etc. — or have long fake nails that were permanently painted with the American flag?”). After a bunch of these questions, which I thought were actually pretty funny, he goes, “Ok, ok, I have one for you — what’s your favorite color?”

    After dinner, he invited me up to his dorm room for “a glass of water.”

    But at least he was nice. I got taken out on one date with a guy who was absolutely heinous and rude. Refused to take a cab anywhere, even when I said I’d pay for it, which meant that I ended up walking for like 30 minutes in heels to go to a shitty frat bar on third avenue, called Finnerty’s — which he pronouced, “Fih-nuhr-tees.” At Finnerty’s, he went to the bathroom, at which point a homeless man approached me, grasped my hand and started hitting on me. Date returns from the bathroom, and stands against the wall glaring at me. I’m giving him the “Uh, come help me!” look, but he doesn’t take it. Finally I get away from the homeless man, walk over to the date, and he says, “Sorry, I wouldn’t want to interrupt you and your boyfriend over there.”

    Total psychopath.

  10. I’ve only ever courted two women. The first is my current girlfriend, so I don’t know if I’d call any of dates “bad,” per se. The woman before that, well, I’m not even sure I’d consider it dating. But when I should have been romantic and impulsive—thank you, Sebastian the fucking lobster—I completely chickened out.

    The good news is, I’m still on—relatively—good terms with the second girl, so nothing traumatic here.

  11. Blind date: An hour or two in, guy informs me he can fellate himself. Not only that, but that it took him months of flexibility training to do so.

    I know I’ve told that one before, but I’m still not over it.

    Second one. I meet up with a guy at his *cough* frat house, where his frat brothers are having a meeting I’m not allowed to attend. He makes me attend, putting me in a very, very uncomfortable situation. He then drags me to the frat house basement where we proceed to watch “Deuce Bigelow: Male Gigolo” and he laughs like a duck. At some point, I take off my shoes and the first thing he notices is that I have a very small hole in my sock, and spends the rest of the “date” making fun of me for having the gall (I’m not kidding) not to fix it.

    DARN THIS, MOTHERFUCKER!

  12. Q. Why do men find training for autofellatio to be so frustrating?

    A. No matter how hard they try, they still suck at it.

    <_<

    >_>

    Move along; nothing to see here.

  13. This isn’t really a date, but more like world’s worst pickup line. I was in a bar my first year of law school with a bunch of people I still didn’t know very well. Eventually, I wound up sitting against the wall in a booth being schmoozed by a guy I knew for a fact lived with his girlfriend. He asked me what I thought about going home with people I met in bars. I frowned into my beer and ignored him.

    This was his next line: “I don’t usually go home with people I meet in bars, but I know you from law school, so I figure you’re safe. I went home with this girl one time in DC. The sex was really hot, but the next day it hurt to pee. But don’t worry, I don’t have chlamydia anymore.”

    He transferred and I am still jubilant.

  14. My first day in the U.S. this guy approaches me in the lunch room and we start talking. We end up going for a walk downtown and mundo bizarro opens up: First we go to a clothing store and he tells me to show him what I would like him to buy me. I refuse to do so since it is WEIRD for a stranger to do that. When we start walking back to the dorms, he tells me in front of a Newman’s Center that he is in probation for beating the crap out of a guy with a baseball bat. After this confession he insists on kissing me;I refuse. Realising I was in a pickle here, I figure out a way to drive him away. So, I start asking him about his homosexual fantasies, since he looks like the kind of guy who would much rather be crippled than gay. I keep insisting on the fact that he must have erotic dream that involve other guys, to which he tells me that I am an absolute sicko and that he’s disgusted!

  15. Oh lord, lauren, that one’s pretty bad. But I just thought of one that equals (if not exceeds) my previous post. Once more I was a young, adventurous punk, and working night shifts at a convenience store. One of my regular customers became friendly with me, and one night invited me over to his place to listen to some music and toke a bit. Now, I thought this young man was gay. He sure acted gay.

    Anyway, we got to his house and had a drink and smoked some trees and then he started making passes at me. I was surprised, and said, “but I thought you were gay!” His reply was to put my hand on his dick and say, “does this feel like the cock of a homo?”

    Well, I didn’t know quite what to say to that.

  16. I have a shockingly long–2,263 word–story about the Worst Date Ever. Should I post it in parts? Or just put in the whole thing.

    I believe it’s worth it…though I could be wrong.

    g

  17. Muesli? Not if it’s from Tartine, my most celebrated purveyor of French pastries and muesli. I think their muesli is kind of special. I guess I’m saying, is it special housemade, yogurty, fruity muesli or just your dry, grayish shake-it-out of a box muesli?

    Also, perhaps said orderer of muesli was just feeling a bit constipated that day and/ or otherwise unfit for the consumption of more delicious foodstuffs of a richer nature which would have exacted their hefty toll on the digestive system later.

    Am I sharing to much? I’m not even going to touch the second question.

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  19. But don’t worry, I don’t have chlamydia anymore.

    I’m so going to use that line.

    Okay, third worst date was the one when I realized I was on a date about three hours into the date, a really boring, irritating date.

    A girl from class asked me to go out with her one night, so we go out and she spends the entire time trying to convince me to hook her up with a pot dealer. I hadn’t known any for years. THEN we go back to her apartment that had only a couch, a tv, and mattress, and sit there and look at each other for awhile while she does shots (we were both underage and I didn’t drink). I’m wondering how to bail out of this situation when she turns to me and says, “So, have you ever been with a woman?”

    All of a sudden, lightbulb moment. I’m on a date. I’ve been on a date for the last three hours. Holy shit, I’m stupid. She must have read my face because she dropped it and never called me again.

  20. Jill-
    I just read your comment. Is there something wrong with me that I think Mr. Olive Garden sounds like a C-A-T-C-H.

    He invites you to a “great Italian place” and it’s Olive Garden, where he invites you to select the wine? Hilarious! He invites you up to his room for “a glass of water”? Comedy gold!

    Seriously, “what’s your favorite color?” is my new pickup line.” For reals. And the airbrushed nails thing. For reals. How could that not be fun?

  21. Lauren-
    I can tell you the exact opposite of that story (I’m the poor dope who totally thought I was on a date– in my defense, I had every reason to!), minus the pot dealer and with a stupidly adorable ending: we totally hit it off on our ‘friend date’ and now she’s one of my nearest and dearest and we have a silly ‘how we became friends’ story to boot.

    ah, modern life.

  22. I’m pretty sure I qualify as several women’s worst date ever. In law school, I had a serious, long-distance polyamorous relationship with my college girlfriend. There were several women I hit it off with, but it couldn’t go anywhere unless I told them the truth and they were okay with the poly situation. Plus, BDSM is a big component of my sexuality, and I’m not interested even in vanilla partners if it’s not okay with them that I do BDSM with other partners. So, I had several dates that from the other side go something like this: “He seemed like such a nice guy. And then he says he’s got another girlfriend out of state, and they both sleep with other people. Then, he says he’s really kinky. Like, really whips-and-chains kinky. So I made polite conversation until the check came.”

    The last woman I met while still a student was still interested in me (at least for sex) after the “I have another girlfriend” conversation and the “I’m really kinky” conversation, and we’ve been together ever since.

  24. Anyway, we got to his house and had a drink and smoked some trees and then he started making passes at me. I was surprised, and said, “but I thought you were gay!” His reply was to put my hand on his dick and say, “does this feel like the cock of a homo?”

    *grope* *grope*

    “Definitely feels bi-curious. But I’m fine with that!”

  25. But at least he was nice. I got taken out on one date with a guy who was absolutely heinous and rude. Refused to take a cab anywhere, even when I said I’d pay for it, which meant that I ended up walking for like 30 minutes in heels to go to a shitty frat bar on third avenue, called Finnerty’s — which he pronouced, “Fih-nuhr-tees.” At Finnerty’s, he went to the bathroom, at which point a homeless man approached me, grasped my hand and started hitting on me. Date returns from the bathroom, and stands against the wall glaring at me. I’m giving him the “Uh, come help me!” look, but he doesn’t take it. Finally I get away from the homeless man, walk over to the date, and he says, “Sorry, I wouldn’t want to interrupt you and your boyfriend over there.”

    Total psychopath.

    DAY-AMN!!

    Finnerty’s was a big CR’s hangout btw. We used to go a lot on Thursday nights. There do seem to be a lot of forward men who hang out there–very annoying.

    As for my own date disasters, I have a few….My four-year relationship in college was basically a disaster after year 2, but that’s a book in itself so I won’t get into it.

    So let’s see…for worst cases, I’ll have to go with the exchange student from Italy. I met him at a bar at Penn State and we went out a few times. In the middle of one of our dates, in a cuddly moment while watching TV at his place, he says, “By the way, you are not the only girl I am seeing, but you are the only one in this town. I have a girlfriend in New York, but I can try to date both of you if you like….”

    Ahh those romantic European men…;-P

    In another case, there was the guy (also from Penn State) who I thought was inviting me out for a fancy office banquet with his company. He told me it was semiformal and that he would be honored to bring me. I get there, and it is a Primerica cult “meeting,” where people talk about getting out of debt and ask me if I’m looking for a new career opportunity.

    I later find out this dude is still driving up to Boston on weekends to spend sleeping with his ex-g/f.

    Yukyukyukyukyuk.

  26. Part 1

    (And if people haven’t fallen over in total boredom after this, I’ll post more. And I apologize if this long posting is not appropriate).

    November, 1990. Dateline: Long Branch, NJ. Date with JP.

    C & D’s wedding was a success. They did indeed get married, and are still to this very day. C was kind enough to request that I stand up (slightly to the side) for him. I was glad to do so.

    JP was a bridesmaid; I don’t think she was the maid of honor. I could be wrong. In any event, she was brown-haired, attractive, and seemed interested in me as well. We danced, she caught the bouquet and I caught the garter. Shortly before the end of the event, JP slipped a piece of paper with her phone number into my palm. I metaphorically leapt up and clicked my heels. After two years of being single, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…

    I called JP later that week; we had a brief, uneventful conversation, and made arrangements to get together down in Jersey the next weekend. I would drive down on Saturday night, and we would go to dinner, and then…see what happened (nudge, nudge, wink, wink). As for me, since nothing had “happened” for me in two years…and I mean…nothing…I was very much looking forward to any and all possibilities.

    We met at a Hilton–centrally located for ease of meeting–on a brutally cold November night; it could not have been more than 15 degrees outside, although it was a clear, star-filled night. We got into my car, and headed out in search of fine shoreline New Jersey dining.

    We were engaging in small talk as we pulled into the parking lot of a TGIF’s. As we pulled in, JP was telling me that she ran into a friend she had not seen since Kindergarten. I listened, as she explained the encounter.

    “Well, I was really surprised I recognized him.”

    “Why is that?” I asked. Now, people do change in sixteen or so years, but…I figured that there would be at least a “looks” continuum to follow, and how different can someone look in the intervening years?

    JP said “He’s black, and you know, all black people look the same.”

    You always wonder, when greeted with a statement like that, whether you will have a proper comeback ready to go. Perhaps it would be a bon mot worthy of Wilde, a withering lance aimed at the foolish person, cutting their idiocy neatly in twain. Or, you could just keep it simple, which was the tack I took:

    “No, they don’t.”

    We got a table, and since I traveled all the way from Long Island City, I figured it would do to eat before leaving. We talked, but I was counting down the seconds to get out of there. I never expected to be confronted by her prejudice, given that C & D, as well as the other friends who were at the wedding, showed no particular racism that I knew of.

    We ate, and after, JP suggested we get a beer somewhere. I still, to this day have no idea why I agreed. I could’ve yawned and escaped. “Boy, I didn’t realize how…tired I was!!” But I didn’t say that; perhaps, somewhere in my marrow I hoped to be able to salvage the evening, perhaps even revisit her comment and try to get some clarification. Or perhaps I had been single for two years, and was f**king desperate.

    We drove the back roads of Long Branch, in search of a good watering hole. As we drove, I noticed off to the side of the road a bar, with light pouring from the front door, and the audible sounds of music and people having a good time escaping into the cold night air. I suggested to JP that we stop in there.

    “We can’t!” she exclaimed.
    “Um, why not?”
    “It’s a…black bar.”

    I was thunderstruck, and could not contain myself.

    “Let’s go then; it’ll be fun!”

    “If you pull into that place, I’m getting out.” Overlooking the golden “opportunity” presented me (I never would’ve actually dropped someone in the “middle of nowhere”), I drove on. We soon came across, I guess, a “white” bar, where we went in, silently nursed our respective beers, and said barely a word to each other. White people were enjoying themselves all around us, in their “white” way. Which I’m guessing was probably not all that different from the “black” ways…

    Shortly after we arrived, I said it was probably time for me to get home. JP of course heartily agreed. I finished my beer, and we departed…

    (There’s more…worse!)

  27. Lauren, Dennis Leary has a whole routine about that. I had a similar experience once. This lawyer on the other side of a case from me asked if I had time after a conference for coffee. We had gotten along really well, which sometimes happens. I knew he was divorced, and we had some things in common. So we sat down for coffee, and he said he was leaving the practice of law and going to do something else. He had registered slightly in my gaydar, but clearly within the margin of error. Once we were sitting down together, I caught a vibe, and I thought he was going to ask if I was gay or bi and … he never brought it up. I still don’t know for sure. I think he realized I was straight, and left it alone.

  28. My worst date would have to be with a guy who insisted on calling me “cute” names the entire time. I am opposed to pet names in general, but “chocolate love” and “brown sugar” were thoroughly unacceptable. His closing number? Later in the evening, he whispers to me, “There’s a lot of sexual tension between us, isn’t there?”

  29. I can’t think of any really bad dates because anything difficult that happened prior to my marriage was totally eclipsed by the suckiness of that 19 year relationship.

    I can say that dating in one’s 40s is often just plain weird for all involved.

    Hey, whatever you are in the mood to eat, that’s what you get, even at a fancy French restaurant. (yum, muesli)

  30. I am opposed to pet names in general, but “chocolate love” and “brown sugar” were thoroughly unacceptable. His closing number? Later in the evening, he whispers to me, “There’s a lot of sexual tension between us, isn’t there?”

    Ha! You made me snort with that one.

    Okay, last one. I was watching a movie with a guy I’d been dating for a few weeks, cuddling on the couch. He asks me, “Are we being carnal?” In my head I’m all Carnal? If you call this carnal I’m so glad I didn’t sleep with you. Carnal. Fucking carnal.

  31. worst date ever….
    2nd date with a guy – the first date actually went well, little jazz bar in Minneapolis, I could tell he was a little more conservative than I was, but then most folks are. So, he calls me up (this all happens on my *birthday* no less!) and asks if I want to take a walk around the lake. I think, wow, maybe this could turn out ok. Except about halfway around the lake (this is about a 4 mile walk) he wants to start talkin about the death penalty. At which point I suggest it might not be a good idea, as things might get said which would cause me to not want to speak to him again. He claims he can handle it, that he’s up for the debate, that he likes a challenge. So I let him have it. (ok, maybe not fair that for years I’ve written letters for AI, but still). And his argument pretty much is “you’re wrong”, and “Black people are just more likely to be criminals” and the big winner “If you got arrested, you probably did something wrong”. After I wipe the floor with this guy, he then goes on the anti-choice rant…..at which point I sneak away, call a girlfriend, have her call me with an “emergency”. So she does, and I say in a loud voice “I’ll be there right away” and turn to the guy and say, “sorry, I’ve got to go” where-upon he grabs my arm (not touches grabs) and says to me (in all seriousness) “Don’t you think that two people who have such a huge political argument could have really great sex?” And then tried to kiss me. (Needless to say I left).

    I told this tale the very next day to a friend of mine who said I should have responded “yes, but only if a strap-on is involved”

    thank you very much and good night….

  32. I don’t do blind dates. Well. Once. And it took my friend Shelley months of badgering to get me to agree to go out with this guy, who, she assured me was “just absolutely perfect for you, Broce, plus, he’s loaded and has a great accent.”

    Well. He picked me up, and by the time we reached the restaurant had announced to me that any woman who ever considered having an abortion should be tortured and then put to death. At this point, I began to wonder if friend Shelley really had *any* idea who I was. Believe it or not, the date went downhill from there. I developed a “sick headache” and asked to be taken home right after dinner.

    I could NOT get rid of this guy. I refused all further dates. I wouldn’t take phone calls. He sent me flowers every week for months. Finally, the only way I could think of to get rid of him was to tell him I was getting married to an old boyfriend who’d suddenly reappeared in my life. A complete and total untruth, of course, but he WOULD NOT GO AWAY.

  35. Okay, last one. I was watching a movie with a guy I’d been dating for a few weeks, cuddling on the couch. He asks me, “Are we being carnal?” In my head I’m all Carnal? If you call this carnal I’m so glad I didn’t sleep with you. Carnal. Fucking carnal.

    Haha… I have a similar one, but it happened to a good friend from home, not to me. She’s being, uh, semi-carnal with her boyfriend but not quite having sex yet, and he whispers in her ear, “Can I penetrate you?”

    PENETRATE. That is all.

  36. 1) Yes that’s odd. I like muesli ok, but some people really really like it I guess.

    2a) Worst date: found out guy was 4 weeks from his 2nd divorce. He married the first wife b/c she asked him – since he was living in her home, she was paying the bills/supporting him he felt obligated to say yes. Married the 2nd wife b/c he was so impressed by fact she owned her own home. Took my own car so was able to bail after the 2nd drink.

    2b) Other worst date – nice enough guy who wasn’t too bright. He arrived 20 min early, I wasn’t ready yet so offered him a beer and he said “well only if you are having one.” I said “well no uh see since I’m not ready yet and since you have to sit here and wait for me…” We went to Shakespeare in the Park (his selection) and he said “I read its in a park and you sit on open grass field but didn’t realize we’d need a blanket.” We kept seeing police cars and he’d say “oh look an occifer, look another occifer” every single time. Then he asked if I’d memorized the route we took b/c he was bad with directions and I was in charge of getting us back. When he dropped me off I was for once so happy the summer junebugs were all over the front porch light so I could say “oh no, you stay in the car – I’m just going to run inside past the bug swarm – but thanks!” I waited for him to leave, met my girlfriends out at a bar but was totally busted b/c his friends were there too. So not terribly awful but bad enough I told my mom it was last time I took her advice about men who’d asked me out.

    On the flip side – dinner at fav sushi restaurant, coffee and walked around after dinner, saw a movie, went to museum next day, then hung out at bookstore, following weekend was trip to Austin – that was the perfect date/weekend and that guy totally broke my heart later. So really – its the perfect dates that are the more painful memory….

  37. Hey, if the muesli’s made by the bake shop, it’s probably damn good muesli. But then, I go to Dunkin’ Donuts for the coffee.

    Oh, so many bad dates. There was the one where I didn’t realize it was a date until a while into the date; I thought it was just a book club thing. The guy sold real estate and had “salesman” written all over him. Also had a distorted sense of height. I’m 5-9, and he was at least three inches shorter than I was. But at one point he was talking about a woman who’d answered his roommate ad and mentioned that she was really, really tall — and somehow it came out that he claimed to be 5-9. I said, “You can’t be 5-9, I’m 5-9.” But he insisted that not only was he 5-9, I was six feet. I snorted and told him that he was 5-9 like Tom Cruise was 5-9.

    He then insisted we go to dinner. It was pleasant enough, but he chose the (expensive) wine and then expected me to split the check 50-50, even though I never got a voice in the selection and had not exactly originally agreed to a date. But when I just stared at him, he paid.

    Finally, he drove me home (again, at his insistence), but wouldn’t stop the car because he wanted to keep talking to me. I was starting to get nervous about this and contemplated just bailing at a stop sign, when a cop pulled us over. Seems there’d been a number of break-ins in the neighborhood and someone saw a car circling suspiciously. While he talked to the nice officer, I got ready to make a break for it (I know enough not to get out while the cop is still talking). I finally popped out and thanked him and got the hell out of there.

  38. She’s being, uh, semi-carnal with her boyfriend but not quite having sex yet, and he whispers in her ear, “Can I penetrate you?”

    PENETRATE. That is all.

    Sounds like he took a cue from the Antioch School of Sexual Relations.

  39. Lauren Says:
    February 8th, 2006 at 4:03 pm

    She’s being, uh, semi-carnal with her boyfriend but not quite having sex yet, and he whispers in her ear, “Can I penetrate you?”

    PENETRATE. That is all.

    Sounds like he took a cue from the Antioch School of Sexual Relations.

    Bwaaaa hahahaha!

  40. I love me some muesli, so um, yea, it’s odd, but so what?

    Worst date 1: Waitress at a restaurant sends me flowers. I’m stunned, flattered. I ask her out to dinner to say “Thanks” and to see what she’s like. We go to a movie, then drive downtown (Detroit) for Mexican food. About halfway through dinner she tells me that A) she has a boyfriend (but now that we’re together it won’t be a problem to leave him), B) that he’s abusive to her, and C) she starts spouting off a bunch of racist statements about a couple of diners a few tables away. I leave to the bathroom, grab my waiter, ask for the check to be delivered to the table, pay it ASAP take her to her car and go home. But before she leaves my car, I let her have a piece of my mind about her racist opinions.

    Second (not really close and on an opposite end of the spectrum): This time she asks me out. I try to beg out of it because I was moving to Seattle. She insists. We meet at a restaurant that I’m a regular at. When the waiter comes to the table, he brings me a drink (my usual). She says, “You’re drinking?” Yes, I tell her. It goes downhill from here as she proceeds to spend the next 3 hours arguing everything but my choice of entree (and I don’t mean discussing or debating, but arguing – which i first tried to not get involved in, but after a half hour or so it was clear that I wasn’t to be let off so easily). It was painful. I tried to change subjects from politics, but it didn’t matter – she was ready to argue. It only ended when I got up to use the bathroom. By the time I got out of the bathroom, she had made a hasty exit, leaving me with the check (I was willing to split, but I didn’t ask her out!). The bartender, seeing what was going on, poured me a triple and gave it to me on the house. Mario, the lovely man who managed the place, came over to offer me comfort.

  41. OH – bad date story that isn’t mine – one of my best friends is tall, very pretty, very smart and successful but gets herself into situations that I can’t even imagine:

    She met/hooked up with a minor-league baseball player who lived in another city. We kept telling her he was an ass but she flew to visit him one weekend.

    Somehow an exgirlfriend winds up at his place, they all go to a party together and the ex-gf even borrowed clothing from my friend. The ex-gf comes back home with them and guy tells my friend to sleep on the living room futon, he and the ex-gf are sleeping upstairs. In his bed. She finally packs her things, gets a cab to aiport to go back home at like 3am.

    Guy emails her later saying “oh wow I’m sorry I was such an asshole but in my defense had been doing some coke.”

  42. Y’know, I’ve only been on one date, and it was fucking excellent. I’m pretty proud of myself that the first date I’ve ever been on closely followed my idea of the ideal winter date.

  43. My travails are pretty mild, largely bacause I was too milquetoast to get dates– in many ways, I epitomized the unexciting/nice guy of those threads.

    A bad one was a date with a woman I met getting a haircut. We had a nice talk about reading and television; later I got her number. The date began OK, but later devolved because I foolishly decided to prolong a good date. [The date was for dinner; when I suggested a play that’d require hurrying to reach, it all unraveled.] It ended with watching a movie at her place… with her picking isolated seating, and largely without conversation on her part.

    It certainly encouraged more thorough planning for contingencies on future dates; of course, it also led me into the game playing “coffee date, meal date, etc.” progression that I’d hoped to avoid. No more trusting my instincts after they’d failed me so badly.

  44. I mostly didn’t formally date as such, so there weren’t that many bad dates (more bad experiences of being hit on in non-date situations). I guess, though, that I’ll pick the Bible church date.

    I met this guy while browsing in a Catholic bookstore, and we chatted for a while, and he invited me for coffee. That was fine; I walked to a coffee house with him, and we talked, and argued a bit about what was in the Westminster Catechism, and then he invited me to go to a singles event at a local independent Bible church with him. I said sure; I enjoyed checking out the occasional other church, and knew some people in that church. So I went with him to this singles event, which proved to mostly consist of all of us sitting and listening to a lecture, of which the main point that I remember is that, once we married, we should never, ever divorce. And then there was a brief period for conversation, after the no divorce lecture.

    The guy then took me home, and invited me to yet another Bible church event, this one on an evening weeknight, which, since I worked swing shift at the time, made it during my working hours. I declined. He pressed. I pointed out that I worked swing shift. He suggested I call in sick. I refrained from suggesting that lying to my employer didn’t sound like especially admirable Christian behavior to me, and instead simply repeated my refusal. And that was that.

  45. I love reading about other people’s dates. I always seem to be in mullti-year relationships, and haven’t been on a real date in, oh, 15 years? Maybe that makes me lucky, except that I’m still single.

  46. I ditched in the middle of a date when my date started talking up evolutionary psychology. Otherwise, I’m pretty tolerant of eccentricities and so immediately obvious in my personality that I generally weed out the bores and the Republicans straight away. When my ex and I went out on like our first real date, I liked him so much I dreaded asking and finally came out with it, “Are you a Republican? Please tell me no.”

    He guffawed. “I don’t make enough money.”

    But that was a good date. The EP guy–luckily I had friends there and they said, “Yeah, Amanda has to leave with us. NOW. Emergency. Bye now!”

  47. I had been seeing this guy for a while. I am someone who is fascinated by sex – Im very open about my sex life and never hesitate to ask questions about other people’s sex life (although I make it clear they can tell me to F-off or I stop if they seem uncomfortable).
    We had apparently gotten to the point where he felt very comfortable and open with me. We were discussing fantasies and he told me that the year before he had had sex with his mom and he fantacized constantly about his sister who would be 18 in a few weeks.
    So it really is possible to be too honest.

    I was gonna say muesli is ewwww anyway but the memory of that date is a much bigger ewwww.

  48. Muesli is granola

    I was really disappointed when I first found that out. I had visions of granola being some miracle cure food, (like I imagine echinacea), then I found out half a major nation had decided to build a hippy stereotype around something my grandparents eat for breakfast.

    The only blind date I went on, she choose to meet in a bar where she could watch the football. I’m sure that if one of us were gay, we’d have had more in common, and at least as much chance of wanting a second date.

  49. I had a set-up in law school that was just a total mismatch. Friends, who knew about the long-term relationship and about the BDSM, set me up with their single artist friend. She seemed nice, the sort of person I’d spend time with. Then we got to talking, and she was a politically progressive but personally conservative Catholic, nose ring notwithstanding. I assumed my friends had done the due diligence. Turns out that because she was politically lefty and artistic and nose-ring-wearing, they just kind of … assumed.

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