His Dating Diary: Two of the Worst Dates Ever

Our NYC dater shares two of the worst date stories he's ever heard of, in the hopes that no one else will experience anything this bad …

By Rich Santos

We've all had terrible dates in our day, but two of my female friends have been on dates that are worse than most. They've allowed me to share them in the hopes that dates like these will never be repeated.

Margaret is a dear friend of mine who grew up in the South. She is one of my greatest sources for terrible date stories. One of her most harrowing dates occurred at her Debutante Dinner. Yes, you read that correctly.

Margaret's Debutante Dinner was a gala event. Even her 87-year-old grandmother made it, something that impressed the entire family. Her on-and-off boyfriend at the time, Jake, invited himself to be her date, promising that he'd behave, despite his history of reckless behavior on dates.

Jake's promise evaporated faster than a gasoline puddle in the sun. After dinner, Margaret went to her hotel room to change into her ball gown. In the meantime, Jake decided to "tailgate" the ceremony. He found Margaret's friends in a hotel room and proceeded to down an entire bottle of Goldschlager. Wasted, he headed back to the ballroom and accosted Margaret's grandmother. Margaret found him muttering about fishing and pried him away from her grandmother.

After returning to their hotel room, he promptly got bored and left, informing Margaret that he was going to "look for drugs". He then walked up and down the halls of the most luxurious hotel in Richmond, Virginia, The Jefferson (think the Overlook hotel in Stephen King's The Shining), asking guests in every room if they knew where he could score some Ritalin.

Upon his return to the hotel room, his drug run coming up empty, he propositioned Margaret and her female cousin for a threesome. After Margaret turned down his romantic request for an incestual threesome, he passed out drunk. Sadly, Margaret continued to be his on-and-off again girlfriend.

Now for my friend Veronica's tale. Veronica met Bill at a hockey game. Keeping in line with cliché, Bill bought Veronica a drink from a few rows back. After Veronica was told "compliments of the gentleman in Row 15," the two exchanged details.

Bill reached out via a series of hastily written emails that looked like the work of a mad man: "we shuld get together some tme soon.maybe ew should gte a drink or smothing?"

There were so many things wrong here. This guy didn't even have the courtesy to check his email over for general clarity and spelling. This sat poorly with me because before emailing a girl I intensely review my emails, edit, cut, copy, paste and then have two girlfriends check for ... general creepiness ... until the training wheels are off and I can write them on my own.

Unfortunately for Bill, he had no helpers. Veronica, after ignoring my advice not to go with him due to the fact that she cringed every time she got an email from him, agreed to meet for drinks after work at the rooftop bar of the Gansevoort Hotel.

Even though Veronica had said she was coming alone, Bill decided it was appropriate to bring two friends with him. He also decided to get drunk before she even got there. Bill also thought it was a good idea to be extremely aggressive. After lighting his cigarette in the bar with a candle holder (no smoking allowed in NYC bars), he started to make it known that he wanted some action. The over-aggressiveness culminated in groping to the point where Bill had hold of Veronica's bra in the back and pulled it until it snapped (the old move popularized during 8th grade recess). She ran into the bathroom and called some friends to find out where they were and frantically left the bar to meet them.

A week later, Bill made the situation twice as sad and awkward when he emailed her: "hey havent headr from you in a while. was it sumething i sed?"

Amazing how guys like this never think they did anything wrong with a girl, while I'm always thinking I did something wrong no matter what.


Rich Santos finds charm in stupidity and campiness in movies, celebs and life. He currently resides in New York City where some day he hopes to fall in love. Until then, he is happy to share his failures and successes with the readers of Marie Claire.

Reprinted with permission of Hearst Communications, Inc.

 

Bad Dates Exist…

By Ky Widnfellow

I’m starting to dislike the dysfunctional attitudes of how Guam night folks go parading themselves at clubs, pool houses, and bars. The dark humor underlies of how much couples are completely unaware about how relationships work.

Yes, the sex is always fun in whatever position and gender based paradox but the pretense to that is involved of how the first meeting is exhilarating. That is, if the guy and the gal successfully passes the check-bot of introduction i.e., the sophiscated form of “Hi. My name is <typical>. How are you?” then the first meeting is enjoyable to go on the next step. Once satisfaction is alluded into our social life, then the odds of being chained to a premarriage status is imminent.

Cool right? After all, the sex is guilt-free, benefits for combining expenses are present, and an increased in social status is realized.

Well, those first meetings are the bad dates…when all of us fail to actually know one another not anatomically but rather spiritually, and emotionally.

Why do think human beings best friends are narcotics, alcohol, and rebounds? They all give a temporarily spirit-lift of inspiration.

As much as I despite religion, faith counters that hate for me. God needs to be known to get the truth of life-aspiring situations. Forget Darwin’s natural selection, and start looking life at a different angle.

Don’t get me wrong now, I want sex! Yes, I do. However, I know there is more to sex. Wait, we’re talking about bad dates not about sex right? Well, bad dates usually happen when sex is first involved.

My best buddy, Travol, reconsider this point of view that we need to master the anatomy of the female body thru sex. So, have sex with many women as desirable which should adequate to a better marriage. That is why drugs that hinder pregnancy were made possible, for a better practice.

I love that theory as much as I love peanut butter (filled with salmonella if you don’t get the joke). Yes, sex is inevitable but we’re dooming the unborn. Plus, we’re killing ourselves faster than the research for regenerative abilities when consuming birth control. My other good friend, Rona, explicitly explains upon her studies on Nursing that all drugs have a bad effect that all leads to inevitable death or at least halving lifespan.

The point in bad dates is to give retarded singles, including me, a boost of social efficiency. In short, we all need something to talk about whether farfetched or truth.

Rich Santos’s “His Dating Diary: Two of the Worst Dates Ever” reminds me of what David Cook explains about women of why they fall so easily for the bad guys or at least go find that spark of drunken inspiration. Bad guys have the attitudes that convey neediness-less, independence, confidence, and the looks.

 Bad dates…maybe good guys should follow that too without the need for neither alcohol-based nor narcotic-based induction.

In the midst of chaos, there is a light despite the atrocities. In the blinding light, there is a darkness but somehow I can see. Mae...many thanks to the muse of entertwining counterparts.