So we’re going to do things a little differently this week. We received this anonymous horror story of a letter and felt compelled to not only share it with you, our loyal readers, but also devote an entire column to it. Behold possibly the worst dates ever…
Dear Jersey Girls,
Until recently, I was a virgin to dating. After being in a relationship for 4 years, I forgot all about the golden rules of dating. So when this guy whom I’ve never met before asked me out, I figured how bad can this really be. We met through an online dating site and coincidentally he happened to live next door to me.
After a few elongated yet amusing text message exchanges we decide to meet. As a general rule for a first date, you should always abstain from any food consumptions all together. What if he’s horrific? Do you tell him you need to leave because your best friend’s poodle died before or after the seaweed salad?
It is 7.30pm on a Friday night. It is raining. He decides to drive to my house even though it’s a block away. I speculate it is for the reason that he is frightened to get his hair wet. I slowly emerge from my house. Expecting to see my Prince Charming on a chariot, to my revulsion I am confronted by Carrot Top’s younger brother. CT suggests that we take my car due to malfunctions that moisture causes to his vehicle (even though he drove a block to my house). At that point I wanted to turn around and go back to my house. If only he was to high five me and yelp out Booyah, I would have gladly turned around without hesitation. But I felt bad. Sadly, I obliged to driving. As CT situates himself in my car, all 6 feet of him, he suggests we grab a bite to eat, even though I specifically proclaimed that I have evening plans at 9pm. As we drive he advocates that he hasn’t eaten all day (as if the starving children in Africa must be grateful to his food conservation) and that we grab a burger at Johnny Rockets?! My head surely starts spinning. What am I, 12? Am I seriously meeting this guy for fries and a milkshake? Maybe, if I’m lucky he will let me borrow a coin to throw into a jukebox. Oh, and I don’t eat meat.
Judging by his outfit and demeanor, he’s dressed for…well…Johnny Rockets. To his dismay, I categorically refuse. Luckily, there were two open seats at the bar at Shanghai, a highly coveted Providence hotspot. As I plump myself into the comfy bar chair, I immediately order an extra dry martini. God bless the bartender who generously poured me the strongest most strapping cocktail I’ve ever had! She must have understood what was going on. When she asked my date what he wanted to drink, CT replied: “water”. He then turns to me and said: “You know, all my friends tell me that I don’t need to drink in order to act drunk”. At that moment my head starts spinning again. Why am I going through this torture? I felt like there was a little man inside my head, poking me with a million tiny needles. Am I being punished? Have I been really that bad? I’m sorry mom for not coming over last Saturday! I’m sorry grandma for not visiting you often enough! As I’m having these Gemini induced conversations with myself inside my head, CT begins to ramble.
For the next 45 min I make my best attempt to converse, but the little man with his needles inside my head decides he’s had enough. It is time to wrap up the party. Gladly I oblige. As the bartender wraps up my Tofu Lettuce Leafs appetizer (an outstanding value of $6.99!) and his Pad Thai, I decline taking my leftovers. CT however does not have a problem with not driving, not drinking and not not taking the leftovers home. Not only does he take his leftovers home, but seemingly he does not have a problem with taking my leftovers home!?!?!?!?! The little man inside my head started kicking and screaming. Vigorously. The needles have amplified both in size and pressure. Alas it is time for the bill! It comes to a whooping $25! Seeing how I have already broken all the first date rules, I offer him money. Very eagerly, he retorts with “Sure! My x-girlfriend of 1.5years would never let me pay for her. She always felt insulted when I tried!!!”
There comes a moment in a girl’s life when she is so mortified she wishes she was invisible. All I wanted was to crawl up into a little ball, wedge myself beneath the bar and die. Quickly. Or stab him with a chopstick. Whichever was more efficient. However being bigger and better than that I overcame my gnawing urge and handed my credit card to the bartender. Short of $12.50 and a whole lot of dignity, I take him back to his car which is still parked by my house. I give him a half shoulder tap and say goodbye. He wants a hug. Finally I put my foot down and say no.
My question for you, Jersey Girls, is that this douchebag keeps text messaging me even after I told him I wasn’t interested! Are some guys out there such imbeciles that they don’t get the social cues? How do I get him out of my hair? Help! I’m being stalked by a creep!!!
– Stalked on the East Side
A: Don’t you just hate people with no tact? They are completely unaware that they are putting off the person they’re talking too – and just keep digging themselves this deep dark hole of arrogance and stupidity. These people (not just dudes) – have no idea they’re doing it – but that also doesn’t mean it excuses their actions. To answer your question, yes, there are men out there that are so socially awkward that even, “Thanks, but no thanks” isn’t a clear enough indicator to move on.
If CT wasn’t such a D bag we’d normally tell you to let him down easy and bow out gracefully – but unfortunately that’s not really an option here. It seems as though this guy is gonna need some tough love. . If simply not answering his texts and calls isn’t helping your cause, and the generally fail safe, “sorry, I have a boyfriend now” line (or lie…) won’t cut it you’re going to have to bust out the big guns. Sometimes you have to be brash or mean to get your point across. Try responding with, “DEAR CARROT TOP JR., I’M NOT INTERESTED.”
Ok, even we admit that’s a little harsh, but how about, “I’m not trying to sound like a bitch, but please leave me alone”. We think that pretty much sums it up. If you’re forced to run into him now and then, seeing as he lives like a block away…you might just have to go the “full out snub” route and ignore his presence. We know it sounds mean, but this is like a last resort situation, you’re trying to make a point. Just remember for next time that as every wise man ever, or Confucius or somebody (and we have) said, don’t shit where you eat. Just as a tip, and we speak from experience (cough, cough) dating and/or sleeping with your neighbors while seeming momentarily convenient is generally not the smartest idea. So if you don’t know, now you know…
We have to give you credit, this debacle is up in the ranks of the worst dates hall of fame. We can’t seem can’t recall the last time a “real date” came our way – But most of them to seem to begin and end at E&O as Johnny Tabs took the time to thoughtfully point out earlier this week. What? If we don’t go on real dates, they can’t suck, right? You might only be trumped by our girlfriend who went on an equally shiteous date but was forced into a pity kiss at the end. Imagine that?! Worst part: she said his tongue tasted like balloons. Gross. Yeah, I think we’d take carrots over balloons, but welcome to 2nd place. Readers, think you got something worse? Make us feel better, comment away…