There’s finally a bad date story that puts mine to shame.
My friend – let’s call her G – had been Tindering for a while and had only found guys who wanted to “hit it and quit it”, as they say. Not exactly what she was looking for. So, to find what she hoped would be the kind of guy you could bring home to mom and dad, she downloaded Coffee Meets Bagel a slightly more “dating oriented” app.
The First Date
One guy on the app caught her eye and after a few text exchanges, they agreed to meet up for drinks. It was an overall awkward first date and at the end, he informed her he’d be out of town for the next month. Sure, she thought. “Out of town for a month.” I’ve heard that line before… She assumed he wasn’t interested.
Exactly 30 days later, however, she got a text asking about a second date. She was skeptical, but thought it was sweet that he’d followed up as promised. She decided to give him another chance.
“How about you come over and I’ll cook you dinner?” She offered.
G figured this would save them the awkwardness of sitting across from each other at a restaurant and allow her to control the timing and flow of the evening. Also, if they had nothing to talk about, she could just busy herself in the kitchen. He agreed, and they set a date for the next night.
That evening, Coffee-Meets-Bagel-Dude decided to bike over to her apartment. On the way over, he got a flat tire, essentially leaving him stranded in her neighborhood. When he arrived at her door, sweaty and cranky, they managed to laugh it off and agreed to deal with the logistics later.
Dinner went surprisingly well. She cooked him her signature dish, they ate, chatting amiably, and then she asked if he wanted to hang out and watch a movie.
Because she’d recently moved into her apartment, the only place to sit comfortably was the bed. He eagerly accepted her invitation and they sat watching Netflix for about 30 minutes before he excused himself to go to the bathroom.
She politely paused the movie so he wouldn’t miss anything, but instantly regretted it when she realized that in the silence, she could hear every single sound from the bathroom. Every. Single. Sound.
Apparently, the walls were thinner than an anorexic after a juice cleanse and as the heavy dinner and a month of travel caught up with him, G was just on the other side of the wall listening to his cacophony.
G froze. She didn’t know what to do. It all happened so fast she was caught off guard. As he evacuated his bowels, she sat miserably on her bed, knees-to-chest trying not to listen but also not not listening.
Twenty minutes later, he returned to the bedroom as if nothing had happened. She couldn’t look at him. She was mortified. The sounds! Her ears were insulted.
It’s Not Over Yet
She stared straight ahead at the computer screen and pressed play. As the movie continued, she couldn’t focus. She thought of every possible way to get him out of her apartment ASAP, but with his broken bike and intestinal distress she didn’t know how to broach the topic of him leaving.
The credits rolled, and her date made his move, lurching towards her with a puckered up kissy face. At this point, G was stone-cold sober, utterly turned off, and 0% in the mood to kiss this super-pooper.
And then the basic kiss morphed into something far more unpleasant.
His tongue came out of hiding and he started to aggressively suck and lick in and around her mouth. Slobber started to accumulate on her chin. Suddenly it was like she was making out with a seventh grader whose mouth tasted like the rivers of India. His breath was fishy and he kept pulling away and then attacking her mouth with renewed enthusiasm.
Then, (fully clothed, thank god?) he mounted her.
Everything had escalated at lightening speed. She pushed him away and said, “Listen… I’m going to be really tired in the morning… can I just drive you home now?”
He sat back, hurt. Looking like he was about to cry, he simply nodded and stood up.
Ok, Now It’s Almost Over
At this point, it was 3 am. G drove him halfway across the city, bike stuffed into the back seat of her Prius. There was no way this was ever, EVER happening again. It was just so awful. So wrong. So… shitty.
When she arrived at his building, he gave her a brief, awkward hug and then slunk away, pushing his bike through the revolving door.
The second he was out of the car, she breathed a sigh of relief. The date was finally over. She never had to see him again. She was free.
When G got back to her place, she threw her keys on the console table in the front entry and looked down in horror.
He’d left his hat.