The Date from HELL
During a conversation with one of my two new friends this afternoon, we compared date horror stories. It reminded me of my date from hell. Oddly enough, Rick is nowhere to be found in this story.
About 20 years ago, there was this bartender at a club I used to frequent. He asked me out every single time I went in. After a couple of years of refusing the guy, one evening I decided to go ahead and accept his invitation. After all, I had known him for years and he was a nice guy.
He was to pick me up at 7 pm on a Friday night. By 7:30, he still hadn’t shown up. I was about to give up on our date when he called to tell me his daughter had attempted suicide and that he would be running late. I was stunned, “Stay with your daughter! I’m sure she needs you right now.”
“No, she is fine, I will be there soon,” was his reply.
Once again, I found myself waiting a little too long. I walked to the end of the driveway and looked down the street to the intersection. At that exact moment, a van backed out of the bar on the corner. It headed toward my house. This dude had obviously lied to me. I let it go. (I let far too much go, wouldn’t you say?) Anyway, he pulled into my driveway and off we went. He immediately asked me why I had finally agreed to go out with him. I told him that he was a nice guy and I couldn’t refuse someone who had been asking me out for two years.
Then I asked HIM a question, “Why have you been asking me out for so long?”
His answer should have prompted me jump out of the car right then, “I like your boobs.” That’s all. No, “You are a sweet girl”, or “I’ve always had a crush on you.” Just the aforementioned boob comment.
I let THAT go. As we pulled up to the place that he had been wanting to take me, “Sergeant Peppers”, (a British pub that was new to the area), he continued to talk and talk about himself and his talents. He sang, he played the guitar, he was in a band, he knew the guy who was entertaining at Sergeant Peppers that night, he would be performing with him, blah, blah, blah.
I was beginning to wonder if we would ever go inside when he finally headed toward the passenger door. “At least he’s a gentleman”, I thought as he neared my door. BUT...he didn’t open it.
He actually unzipped his pants and PEED in front of my door. I had to hop OVER the puddle as I exited the vehicle.
Now, I realize that I had many opportunities to spare myself any more unpleasantness, but I wanted to check out this new place and I was sort of in shock at this unexpected turn of events. I asked him why he peed in the parking lot and he just said, “Oh! This place is so great! It will be so crowded and the lines will be sooo long.”
I brushed off that nonsensical answer and entered the establishment, looking forward to seeing the show he had told me about. A young Irish man was singing ballads and making jokes. I was beginning to have a good time. My un-housebroken date asked me if I would like to try a beer called Killian’s. I had never tried it before so I said, “Sure.”
It wasn’t bad at all so when the server came back to offer another round, I was only too happy to order another one. “Oh!”, my date said, “That is rather expensive beer!
“Well, you shouldn’t have offered me any”, I responded and ordered another.
I was sitting there considering the huge mistake I had made in accepting his invitation when things got worse. The Irish guy was obviously wrapping up his show when my date shouted out, “I thought you were gonna let me sing one with you!”
I was mortified. The entire place was making whispering sounds and I wanted to crawl under the table and leave. The poor Irish guy shrugged his shoulders and said, “Sure, come on up.” Now, if my date had any talent, it STILL would have been embarrassing. But not only couldn’t he sing, he didn’t know how to use a microphone. All of that crap he was talking about in the van was just that, crap.
And to top it off, he didn’t know the words. The Irish dude started singing louder and INTO the microphone so that this mess wouldn’t be a total disaster. I still can’t listen to the song Free Falling without wincing.
Well, finally, we walked out to the van and I could not wait to get home. But my date still had a few surprises in store for me.
Before he got into the van, he peed at my door again! This time it was so “nobody could see” him. But a bunch of people did. They saw a man urinating in the parking lot next to a van and my horrified face looking out the window. (At the people, not the pee-er.) When he finally did get in the van, he started talking again. I wouldn’t have minded him talking so much if he would have started the van and headed for my house but he didn’t. He just kept talking. I finally had to get rude and tell him to take me home right then or I would get out of the van and walk home. (Yes, I know I should have done that anyway.)
At last, we pulled into my driveway where he continued talking. I interrupted him to say I had to use the rest room and that it was IN THE HOUSE. I went inside, locked the doors and waited for him to drive away. I told my sister all about my hideous night and I went to bed.
The next day, as I was telling my sister the details of my date from hell, there was a knock on the door.
I peeked out the window and saw his van. I stood behind the door as my sister opened it a bit without taking the chain off. My sister asked him what he wanted and he responded, “I think I owe your sister an apology.”
“YOU SURE THE HELL DO!”, she said as she slammed the door in his face.
Years later, I ran into that guy. We had a lovely conversation. He had been looking for me ever since that day. He wanted to apologize because he joined AA as a result of that date and he was working on his 8th step (making amends to all you have wronged.) The date was certainly hell for me but it was all worth it knowing there is one less obnoxious drunk in the world.
During a conversation with one of my two new friends this afternoon, we compared date horror stories. It reminded me of my date from hell. Oddly enough, Rick is nowhere to be found in this story.
About 20 years ago, there was this bartender at a club I used to frequent. He asked me out every single time I went in. After a couple of years of refusing the guy, one evening I decided to go ahead and accept his invitation. After all, I had known him for years and he was a nice guy.
He was to pick me up at 7 pm on a Friday night. By 7:30, he still hadn’t shown up. I was about to give up on our date when he called to tell me his daughter had attempted suicide and that he would be running late. I was stunned, “Stay with your daughter! I’m sure she needs you right now.”
“No, she is fine, I will be there soon,” was his reply.
Once again, I found myself waiting a little too long. I walked to the end of the driveway and looked down the street to the intersection. At that exact moment, a van backed out of the bar on the corner. It headed toward my house. This dude had obviously lied to me. I let it go. (I let far too much go, wouldn’t you say?) Anyway, he pulled into my driveway and off we went. He immediately asked me why I had finally agreed to go out with him. I told him that he was a nice guy and I couldn’t refuse someone who had been asking me out for two years.
Then I asked HIM a question, “Why have you been asking me out for so long?”
His answer should have prompted me jump out of the car right then, “I like your boobs.” That’s all. No, “You are a sweet girl”, or “I’ve always had a crush on you.” Just the aforementioned boob comment.
I let THAT go. As we pulled up to the place that he had been wanting to take me, “Sergeant Peppers”, (a British pub that was new to the area), he continued to talk and talk about himself and his talents. He sang, he played the guitar, he was in a band, he knew the guy who was entertaining at Sergeant Peppers that night, he would be performing with him, blah, blah, blah.
I was beginning to wonder if we would ever go inside when he finally headed toward the passenger door. “At least he’s a gentleman”, I thought as he neared my door. BUT...he didn’t open it.
He actually unzipped his pants and PEED in front of my door. I had to hop OVER the puddle as I exited the vehicle.
Now, I realize that I had many opportunities to spare myself any more unpleasantness, but I wanted to check out this new place and I was sort of in shock at this unexpected turn of events. I asked him why he peed in the parking lot and he just said, “Oh! This place is so great! It will be so crowded and the lines will be sooo long.”
I brushed off that nonsensical answer and entered the establishment, looking forward to seeing the show he had told me about. A young Irish man was singing ballads and making jokes. I was beginning to have a good time. My un-housebroken date asked me if I would like to try a beer called Killian’s. I had never tried it before so I said, “Sure.”
It wasn’t bad at all so when the server came back to offer another round, I was only too happy to order another one. “Oh!”, my date said, “That is rather expensive beer!
“Well, you shouldn’t have offered me any”, I responded and ordered another.
I was sitting there considering the huge mistake I had made in accepting his invitation when things got worse. The Irish guy was obviously wrapping up his show when my date shouted out, “I thought you were gonna let me sing one with you!”
I was mortified. The entire place was making whispering sounds and I wanted to crawl under the table and leave. The poor Irish guy shrugged his shoulders and said, “Sure, come on up.” Now, if my date had any talent, it STILL would have been embarrassing. But not only couldn’t he sing, he didn’t know how to use a microphone. All of that crap he was talking about in the van was just that, crap.
And to top it off, he didn’t know the words. The Irish dude started singing louder and INTO the microphone so that this mess wouldn’t be a total disaster. I still can’t listen to the song Free Falling without wincing.
Well, finally, we walked out to the van and I could not wait to get home. But my date still had a few surprises in store for me.
Before he got into the van, he peed at my door again! This time it was so “nobody could see” him. But a bunch of people did. They saw a man urinating in the parking lot next to a van and my horrified face looking out the window. (At the people, not the pee-er.) When he finally did get in the van, he started talking again. I wouldn’t have minded him talking so much if he would have started the van and headed for my house but he didn’t. He just kept talking. I finally had to get rude and tell him to take me home right then or I would get out of the van and walk home. (Yes, I know I should have done that anyway.)
At last, we pulled into my driveway where he continued talking. I interrupted him to say I had to use the rest room and that it was IN THE HOUSE. I went inside, locked the doors and waited for him to drive away. I told my sister all about my hideous night and I went to bed.
The next day, as I was telling my sister the details of my date from hell, there was a knock on the door.
I peeked out the window and saw his van. I stood behind the door as my sister opened it a bit without taking the chain off. My sister asked him what he wanted and he responded, “I think I owe your sister an apology.”
“YOU SURE THE HELL DO!”, she said as she slammed the door in his face.
Years later, I ran into that guy. We had a lovely conversation. He had been looking for me ever since that day. He wanted to apologize because he joined AA as a result of that date and he was working on his 8th step (making amends to all you have wronged.) The date was certainly hell for me but it was all worth it knowing there is one less obnoxious drunk in the world.
posted by Meg Kelso | 5:25 PM
1 Comments:
HOLY CRAP! You win. I've never had a date that led to a 12 step program. I did, however, go out with a guy that led to a casual aquaintence later asking me if I still worked with mentally handicapped people... I'm serious. And his exwife bore a stiking resemblance to John Wayne Gacey.
-Stacey
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