On Wednesdays, Amanda Chatel will be sharing stories about her strange, fascinating and sometimes wonderful dating life. If it makes you want to date, check out TheGloss dating page.
Anita was new in town when her path crossed with someone from her past. So why not take him up on a date? The Pittsburgh Penguins had just won the Stanley Cup, so there was much to celebrate. What’s better than a parade on a first date? No. Seriously — what is?
I moved to Pittsburgh June 13, 2009 — the day after the Penguins won the Stanley Cup. The Penguins held a victory parade a few days after their win and a “date” in the Pittsburgh area invited me to go to said parade. The guy and I had known each other since middle school, and somehow our paths crossed again (OMG fate!).
By the time we made it downtown (‘dahntahn’ as they say), I really had to pee. My “date” claimed he could weasel a business into letting me use their restroom. He was pretty adamant he could convince someone. We went to the information desk at the US Steel Tower lobby, and he whispered something to the receptionist. The receptionist paused, looked at me, then looked back at him and said “no.” As we walked away I asked what he said to her; apparently, he had told her “it was my time of the month.”
Perhaps, I was being Little Miss Modesty, but I was quite embarrassed. To me, periods are just not something that needs to be discussed with dates/bfs/guy friends. I think it’s perfectly acceptable for guys who aren’t in the medical field to be grossed out by them. Yes, it’s something that happens once a month (or less if you’re lucky); most grown men understand that, but I think they would all agree that they could live without the gory details.
I managed to keep my cool throughout the afternoon. We even went out a few times after that and he met a few of my friends. Whenever my friends give me the: “Oh he’s so nice, you should date him,” I always share this story.
I’ve faked being preggers to use a public loo that was for “customers only,” but that was me telling the fib and not a date pretending I was currently, in that moment, bleeding from my vagina. Maybe I should date Anita’s “date.”
Again, we have another dating tale from our friend Breezy. However, this time, instead of dealing with a guy in a Maroon 5 cover band, she’s got Mr. Pleasure (YES. THIS. IS. HIS. REAL. LAST. NAME.) and some good old-fashioned slut-shaming thanks to her compulsive-lying brother.
I hesitate to mention anyone’s real last name, but his was Pleasure. If you’re imagining someone smooth, experienced, and enticing, please stop. He was the epitome of awkward, stiff, and strangely old-seeming for his age, but nice enough and he knew my brother. So I thought I’d give him a chance. We met a year prior to him asking me out, and I was somewhat surprised it had taken him so long to actually ask. Over Chinese food and red wine, I found out why.