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Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Writing Prompt 4/28/10: Bad Dates

By Marilyn Friedman

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Writing Prompt: For 10 minutes, write about the worst date that you ever had (or your character had)! If you never had a bad date, make something up. Have fun with it!

Comment on this blog! What was your worst date like? Comment before this Friday night to be entered in the April comment contest. You could win a free class!

13 comments:

aimercat said...

I've been on Match.com on & off for almost a year now. Here is the results of the ONLY 2 dates I've had from the entire time on that worthless site.

match date #1 (J1..name hidden to protect the innocent):
-Dude is 4 years older than me. I tell him via email that I really don't think we would have much in common.
-He presses for the date, I cave thinking I need to go outside my box
-Brunch in Burbank
-boring like you wouldn't believe, agrees with EVERYTHING I say (is too nice in that sense), a little too dorky for me, moments of awkward silences and too tall even for me (like 6'10")
-writes me two days later and say "yeah I don't think we have much in common" (I wanted to write back "told you so", but he was a gentleman and paid for brunch). he was a nice guy, just not the guy for me.

Match date #2 (Jordan):
-I talked to this one on the phone beforehand and I thought we might really hit it off. he liked baseball, but hated the Red Sox as much as me.
i don't know what was the most douchey thing of the night...
1. showing up a couple drinks in because he went to Barney's Beanery before the date with his grad school buddies, telling me i needed to "catch up" and then gets annoyed when i tell him that's not happening because I have a fashion show the next night.
2. his mouthing off to the girls next to us who overheard our conversation and simply mentioned they went to the same grad school as him: he said something like "that's nice. I didn't ask you what program you were in"
3. after he paid for the first round of drinks, the check for dinner comes, he throws in 25 and says "that covers my half": I know we're in a recession and all, but COME ON! Also, he made some smart ass comment about how he got me to come to him in Santa Monica because he lives like a couple blocks from the Promenade.
4. the 11pm text messsage the next night: that was his first post-date contact with me....a freakin text message at 11pm at night asking me "are you up?" followed by "?" when i didn't reply a couple minutes later. Had he been paying attention to our conversation, he would've known that I was walking down a runway around that very exact time. Plus, we all know what text message after 11pm mean!
-Other things that annoyed me about him: the constant whipping out of his Iphone (and that's coming from ME! I'm attached to mine and I managed to leave mine alone for a couple hours except when he asked to see a picture of my cat), he kept demanding that I go watch some stupid podcast of him and his cat (I didn't watch ever, but I guess if you go to ITunes & I'll give you the name of the show) he didn't want to tell me anything about himself. I'd ask a question like "so what do you want to do with your MBA?" and he'd find a way to change the subject about something completely irrelevant. He tried to get me to drive him home after the date...dude, you live like 3 blocks away, freaking walk! He kept giving me shit about being a fake red head, like every other word out of his mouth was an f-bomb (don't get me wrong, i can have a mouth that makes a sailor blush, but NOT on a first date!).
-Needless to say, he's not getting a reply to those text messages or a second date.

I'm starting to wonder if I should just avoid guys whose names start with the letter J all together. haha.

michelle said...

When I was 17, I needed a car. My Mom's solution was to set me up with a used car salesman. After all, Mom had friends in all sorts of high places and they gave us good deals on everything. Aunt Sun-Sun the restaurant owner "gave us free noodles!" so I guess with this logic, my used car salesman would eventually give us a free used car?

I can't quite recall my used car salesman's name (because of shock) but as a 17 year old girl who had never been on a blind date, meeting Scarface wasn't exactly what I had in mind. He was a man in his mid 40's and I wasn't sure if he was going to introduce me to his "little friend" or if I was going to see my own face on a milk carton somewhere soon. I was feeling pretty awkward because I had no skills to overcome the uneasiness which was building in my stomach. He also had a moustache. My Dad had a moustache! Absolutely no chit chat would emerge from my lips and the only thoughts I could bear were my Mom needs glasses and child protective services is under C in the white pages. Pimping me out for a used car! Although, the weird thing was that somehow, I appreciated her attempt to help, but since Scarface was giving me the heebie jeebies, five minutes into the date, I swiftly bent forward, clutched my stomach and said with great grimacing pain, "Oh no...my period." Scarface looked at me suspiciously and said evenly, "what's wrong, don't you like me?" I was saddened because the question seemed to bring him a great deal of pain to which I began to backtrack and say, "No no I think you're really nice. It's just that...I don't feel well." To which he asked, "Is it my face?" To which I screeched out in an unnaturally high pitch, "NO! NO! Definitely not your face! It's really my period. Really! I have to go!"

Trauma affects everyone.

Needless to say, I did get myself a car. However, I got it the old fashioned way...I met and dated a great loan broker.

Writing Pad said...

Hi Aimercat! I really enjoyed your story! I love that you gave us a list of all the "douchey" things that he did. I love the 11 p.m. text and that the narrator could make a sailor blush.

Writing Pad said...

Hi Michelle,

Great story! I love the name Scarface, and the line about him
introducing the narrator "to his "little friend" or if I was going to see my own face on a milk carton somewhere soon." I also love the last line--that she got her car by dating a loan broker.

Marilyn

Julie said...

There once was a guy in my dorm. Sweet, tousled, a little nerdy, but his wicked sense of humor made up for the fact that his big, red 80‘s glasses tended to slide down on his nose. I was smitten. Fortunately, we had classes together, so we became friends. We walked to class, grabbed coffee, ate lunch together, hung out in the dorm and never ran out of stuff to talk about. And he always kept me laughing.

One afternoon, after class, he asked me if I wanted to grab dinner later. He could pick me up in an hour. Finally! I went back to my room, with it’s cinder block walls and U2 posters, and gussied myself right up, careful to strike that all-important balance between dressy and “oh, I just threw this on.” I decided not to bring my purse. I wouldn’t need it, after all.

He picked me up right on time and we went to a little coffee shop down the street. It was intimate and cozy, and we talked nonstop until the bill came. Things were progressing nicely. As he pulled his wallet out of his pocket, his expression suddenly went from relaxed to horrified. “Oh no,” he said, “You didn’t think this was a DATE, did you?”

I never left the house without my purse again.

Writing Pad said...

Hi Julie--great story! I love the big, red 1980's glasses. I like the cinder block walls and the U2 posters, and the quote "you didn't think this was a date, did you?"

Marilyn

Erin Anadkat said...

The absolute worst date I ever had was probably my first date. I was 14 and smitten with the only boy that was a member of drama club at my high school. We would pass each other in the halls in-between classes, and I would clutch my books to my chest, a rush of elation washing over me as we exchanged smiles.

A friend of mine noticed and strategized us talking by her locker. One thing led to another, and he asked me to go out on a date on a Sunday night. A first date! My parents were at first concerned that their baby daughter had a date with some rapscallion. But they relented after I told them we were going with his parents and the date was a church picnic.

I still remember what I wore: Maroon slacks, a green turtleneck (I wasn't really thinking about necking), and a plaid vest. My hair was permed then, a drop-perm, to be exact. If you've never heard of a drop perm, it's a perm that stops half-way down the head and--hence the term--drops down, creating a poodle-like effect. Back then, I tended to tease my perm without limits.

Anyway, so the date. We sat in the farthest backseat of my date's family van, away from the front seat. This should have been a warning sign since the middle seat remained unoccupied, with his parents in the front seat.

The Lancaster Prairie Church was a tiny church in the middle of nowhere, out in the country on dusty roads. The entire congregation was a gathering of maybe 10 people. Once we arrived at the church, my date and I ditched the 'rents and went around back, where my date's brother was trying to administer a drug deal by his orange Camaro. The rest of the date, I avoided him trying to make out with me, his intentions that of unhindered passion.

On the drive back, my date's efforts to make out still continued, although he seemed stumped by my turtleneck. I thought it strange his parents didn't look back once!

freeponies said...

One of the first online dates I had was with a guy who listed himself as an "independent filmmaker". His profile was well written and witty and being new to LA I didn't realize anyone can make "independent films", so I answered his message. He only had one picture, which was a slightly hazy profile shot - between the dark lighting, the angle, and the haze (which at the time I assumed was indie-filmmaker-artsy, but later realized was just "old") I couldn't see many details. But I could see 2 things: dark hair and glasses. I love brunettes and I'm a sucker for guys in glasses, so I was IN. After 2 email exchanges and no phone call (rookie mistake), I agreed to meet him for a drink. He chose the Formosa on Santa Monica, a place I'd never been. If you know the Formosa, you know that it's pretty dark inside - even during the day. We met there on a sunny Saturday around 4 - he'd instructed me to meet him at the back booth where he'd be waiting. The minute I saw him I knew - I could never kiss this person. He was wearing glasses, which normally makes me swoon but his were thick and dirty and possibly borrowed from his grandfather. He voice was low and stuttery, which prompted what felt like an endless stream of "sorry?/excuse me?/pardon?" from me. I eventually just gave up in favor of polite nodding. He was perfectly nice, but his overall presence was odd and unkempt. I was not going out with him again, but I was there and so was the bar. Since I was having a little trouble understanding him i decided to jump in and talk incessantly. I started rambling on about traffic in LA and how I'd had to park 6 blocks away, and isn't the parking terrible in this neighborhood, and when I was in Texas I never worried about parking, and thank goodness my apartment has a parking space and wouldn't it just be awful if I didn't since there's never any parking on my street, blah, blah, blah. Then realizing I had been babbling on without giving him a chance to speak, I asked, "Do you have parking at your place?" He shifted in his seat and said, "Yeah, but it doesn't really matter." I wondered if maybe that meant he drove a motorcycle, but this guy didn't strike me as the Harley type. He continued, "I, um, don't have a car." I was stunned, but then thought maybe he was an environmentalist who only rode a bike (another online date I'd had). Me: "Wow! No car in LA? How do you get around?" Him: "Well, there's no real easy way to say this...but, I don't drive. I. Am. Blind."
Gives a whole new meaning to blind date, eh?

Kristina said...

After six years in LA, I decided to take my own Star Tours. I got up early on a Saturday morning armed with the book Laurel Canyon and my GPS and planned to find rock star homes in that area. Once my tour was over, I stopped at the famed Canyon Country Store for coffee and struck up a conversation with the guy sitting next to me. He mentioned that the Jim Morrison house was right behind me...and that his friend lived there. A few minutes later the friend came to the store for coffee and we all talked for about an hour until he invited me to see his house. I mentioned a few thousand times that my dad was a retired FBI agent and that I was expected at brunch in two hours just in case they had plans to lure me in and kill me.

The house was incredible. They had even installed fake walls to cover a shower where Jim had written poems in black magic marker. The whole experience was surreal. Also, the guy who lived there was good looking and my type-tall, dark and mysterious. He asked for my number and invited me to dinner the next night.

I could not believe my luck-if things worked out, I might live in Jim Morrison's house one day!

The next night he was going to pick me up at 8PM. At 8:15 my phone rang-he somehow ended up in Malibu (odd) and I tried to get him back to my house. He didn't arrive until almost 9 and I was starving. I choose a small Italian place near my home in Santa Monica and found out that he had just moved to LA a few weeks ago.

Dinner was fine, conversation was pleasant, then he suggested that we grab a drink. It was a Sunday and a bit late on a "school night" but I suggested a wine bar.

After a few drinks, he started to say odd things. From our seats we watched a woman have extreme difficulty getting into a parking spot that was large enough to fit three cars. Then things got weird, he said that Asian women should not be allowed to drive. I let this go because I thought he was joking.

Then he said that the only reason he was in LA was because his sister's Jewish husband was cheating on her, then said that at least she didn't marry one of the black guys she dated before him. Within minutes he told me that white women were royally screwing over white men by siding with the liberals and "laying with non whites and Jews". He mentioned that white women who did this were no better than the scum they were sleeping with and the world would be better without them.

My lilly white mom is married to a Lebanese man (my dad) and 2 out of the last 3 guys I have dated were Jewish, so I was immediately too shocked and scared to speak. Next he dropped a few "N" bombs and mentioned that there were a lot of Persians in the bar and then said, "So it's clear you didn't take me to a classy place. Persians and Arabs have the worst style." Darn, I thought I looked nice that night.

This strange monologue lasted about 10 minutes while I plotted my escape. I didn't want to ride home with this freak, but I also didn't want to anger him, so I excused myself to the bathroom and texted my friend, "On date with a Nazi at Bodega, please save me ASAP." My friend was there in 10 minutes.

A few days later "Adolf" texted me that he had a great time and wanted to do dinner again soon. The following Monday my entire therapy session was devoted to where I missed early warning signs that he was completely insane.

Writing Pad said...

Erin--Great story! I love the
poodle like drop-perm,the date's brother administering a drug deal by the church, and the scene of the date trying to make out with the narrator in the back of the van.

Free Ponies--Terrific story! I love the low and stuttery voice of the date, the fact that the narrator is a sucker for dark hair and dark glasses and the twist at the end that the date was blind!

Writing Pad said...

Kristina--I loved your story! I love the text message that the narrator sends her friend, the poems written in black magic marker by Jim Morrison, and the litany of racist things that the date says on the date!

Marilyn

Mary Lorraine said...

One night at a bar called Tambaleo, my friends and I decided to partake in karaoke. A few drinks in, the dj called my name and the familiar bass line of Michael Jacksons "Billie Jean" began to play. Because I did the dance moves along with the vocals, and surely because of my alcohol intake, the performance was a hit. A tall sophisticated cowboy type approached me in a long black trenchcoat. He had jet black hair and blue eyes. He said he was getting his joint MBA and JD at UT, which immediately signaled to me how smart he was. I don't remember having the best conversation with him, but I was drunk and thought he definitely deserved a date. He invited me over for dinner and a movie at his place. "Bring your rooomates if you like, I have plenty of my famous turkey spaghetti ." I was relieved at this bc I have seen one too many slasher movies where the naive girl gets killed on the first date. So Ryan Spaghetti became his nickname as we drove over to his place. When he answered the door in stonewashed elastic waistband jeans, I cringed. When I saw the Reebok hightops, I took a deep breath. But his outfit was a drizzle compared to the shit storm of hilarity that was about to rain down. Inside his apartment, I see a terry cloth towel draped over his coffee table, acting as a tablecloth I suppose? He had lots of framed pictures up, but oddly, they were only of the Texas Governor, Rick Perry. The biggest photo was one where Ryan Spaghetti and Rick Perry were shaking hands, placed in the center of the mantle, below the large firearm mounted on the wall. Our meal was served to us on Superman plates. "We really want a bigger place, but for right now, this works for us." When I asked where his roommate was, the other half of the "We" he kept referring to, he called and whistled for his dog, Emma. We did the dishes and silently giggled about him while he excused himself to the restroom. I could not wait to get out of here and go over the night in stitches with my friends. So many awkward comments made throughout the night. Like how he actually wasnt in grad school at all, he had only applied. He actually works at the Enterprise Rent A Car and is just below the manager! He said in a very serious cocky tone, "If you want to test drive any of the new models we get in, I can totally hook that up for free." We politely declined this offer and on watching his "all time" favorite movie Captain Ron after dinner. We ran to my Volvo holding in our howls of laughter until we shut the car doors. It was the worst but funniest date of all time, and my roommates were there to experience it with me.

Mary Lorraine said...
This comment has been removed by the author.