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 outÂ TheGloss datingÂ page.
This week’s “Dating Hijinks” comes courtesy of a dude. Finally! A guy has stepped up to play our dating horror stories game! This should also encourage other guys to submit their dating gems as well (hint, hint… I’m looking at you, regular commenter Sean.)
Perhaps, our buddy Will here can start a trend of more guys submitting their stories. TheGloss may be geared toward women, but as women, we’d really love to know exactly how guys our age think. It’s like getting a glimpse into the world of the Great and Powerful Oz.
To start, this isn’t about a girl whose dating behavior was abhorrent, it’s about my own awful behavior on a date. I don’t always make the best decisions (you’ll see that in a few minutes) and as a result I had a couple of pretty bad dates.
Throughout my school history, at least until grade school ended, I’d had a friendly academic rivalry with a girl who seemed to appear in almost all of my classes. She was also extremely cute and interesting. We’d compete to see who could get better test and paper scores, and I’d love it when she was focusing her attention on me in that way. Anyway, school ended and we parted ways for university and whatnot, but I ran into her a while back and, against my usually social-phobic ways, I asked her out. To my astonishment, she was practically giddy in her acceptance.
So we plan to go out to your cliche movie-then-dinner (I try to flip ‘em around so the movie gives me a conversational crutch in case nothing else is working) and on the big day I was pretty nervous. I headed over to my buddies’ house (both pretty big stoners) to try and relax before hand. So of course, the best way to relax is to smoke a big ol’ bowl! (See those decision making tactics? Aren’t they amazing?) I get way more blazed than I had anticipated and noticing that I’m actually a little late, I freak out and head over to the theater, chain smoking cigarettes in a poorly thought out plan to hide the fact that I was baked off my ass. Eye drops didn’t even enter my mind.
The poor girl was waiting around outside the theater in the cold, obviously a little miffed that I was late. I could see the look change to “are you fucking kidding me?” When she got a whiff of my stale cigarette smoke and saw my eyes droopy and red. She makes polite if stiff conversation, and was incredibly nice despite my stoned ramblings about the coloring of movie posters.
In the theater proper, after me elbowing the top of her head trying to put my arm around her, she sat on the edge of her seat leaning forward, obviously trying to put as much distance between her and my fetid smell as possible. I awkwardly rubbed her back and tried to initiate more physical contact, but was understandably rebuffed (well, I didn’t understand at the time). After the movie she makes an excuse about needing to get to bed early (it was about 8 pm) and gives me an awkward half hug before almost running back to her car.
I didn’t even realize the date had gone badly until much later when I had sobered up and recapped the night. The next day I felt so embarrassed that I messaged her to apologize for my behavior. I didn’t get a response, but I didn’t expect one.
I did see her later on, but that was when she was trying to sell knives door-to-door. That was an awkward sales call, I bet.
Selling knives door-to-door? I read that line like five times trying to figure out if it was a metaphor for something else, but I think Will does mean it literally. That’s too bad for her.
So not only did we get our first fella, but he admitted to be the one who made the date be less that great. A nice angle for a change. Will is refreshing all around!
Now’s your chance, ladies and gents: firstname.lastname@example.org