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The WORST date ever, also, the LAST date before I started dating my now hubs

February 16, 2011

Sometime recently, and to honor the big V, (Valentine’s Day NOT venereal disease) I promised you all a blog about my worst date ever.

This was  really a tough call. From dates that were too short to ride their own motorcycles to ones that ended in drunken marriage proposals/the flinging of ice cream cartons-there were several to choose from.

This one won out, in honor of massacres and all that shiny happy heart stuff, not only because the tale STILL makes me giggle but also because there was a lesson which I’ll go ahead and share (gather round young ‘uns) Do NOT date people who go by an adjective and their first name; Drunk Don, Naked Nate, Crazy Chris, et al. Just trust me on this. (J went by Crazy when we first met but since it was used in conjunction with his LAST name, the rule doesn’t apply.

The occasion was a formal Masquerade Ball at the art museum. The guy in question and I had been out a few times and while I knew he liked to throw one back, I actually thought he had enough wherewithal to behave correctly when the situation called for it.

Mistake number 1: If you have never seen someone act a certain away-don’t assume they can. (Unless it involves children or bad behavior amongst adults.) It’s better to be pleasantly surprised than disappointed.

The “evening” didn’t start off well, I use the term evening pretty loosely as I don’t know if you can consider 4:30 evening. I was running late and off schedule, which makes me crabby, and my date called to tell me he was hammered. His exact word. He’d been golfing and drinking all day.

Instead of allowing the warning bells in my head to sound at their full capabilities-I slammed the snooze button on those bad boys with a lovely cocktail dress, mascara and something sparkly.

He comes to pick me up-BY CAB. While this is an appropriate way to end an evening, it’s not the preferred method to start one. I can’t even really say he picked me up-since he was staggering and slurring and I don’t think that enabled him to follow normal date guidelines.  (Arrive sober. Don’t smell. Whiskey is not an appropriate hair gel. These rules apply to the ladies as well.)

We met up with some other friends and dates for pre-ball cocktails-which I needed. The girls spent most of the time drinking in the bathroom. Always take drinks to bathrooms.

My date was wearing golf cleats (spikes?) with this tux. That’s all I can say about that.

I asked my date several times to at least CONSIDER slowing down the drinking. In his drunken, good-time stupor this somehow translated into “please double fist champagne and swill whiskey from a flask.” (How delightful that he brought his own! He must have been a Boy Scout.)

By this time, “date” can’t walk but feels he possesses John Travolta-like skills on the dance floor. (In reality his moves were more “Hairspray” Travolta than “Michael”  JT-so scary is a good descriptor.)  Basically, this entails some creepy pelvic thrusts, multiple attempts to high-five the band and sloshing of beer on every bit of dance floor and most of the people attendance. The mini lakes of beer actually caused several people to fall.

Deciding that witnessing my “date” stick his tongue out while pointing and learing at his crotch interspersed with making devil horns with his hands MIGHT cause me to be ill, I hid with a friend on the front steps of the museum for a bit. In the cold.  In my mind, he ceased to exist. If only he had been wiped from everyone’s memory…

When we were ready to leave, I rung my fave cabbie and he dropped my friends off at a bar and took me home. That poor, poor, misguided “man” thought he was going to stay and clearly expected me to care for him. I know we’d only been out a couple of times but STILL-he had met me.

INSTEAD-I swapped my stilettos for flip-flops and decided to meet my friends out. “Date” is confused by this turn of events. I calmly explain to “date” that while it was a truly magical evening, I am not ready for it to end. And by that, I simply meant his evening should end AND mine should continue-sans “date.”

Strangely enough, this angered him and he hopped out of the cab and decided to walk home. Some folks believe I threw him out on the side of the road. While I wish that was true-it just isn’t. (Maybe a LITTLE true.)

Faithful cabbie asks what to do. I say, “Take me to the girls and come back for him, he’s drunk and can’t make it that far!” Have a personal cab driver. (Seriously. Mine would bring me food. Cost of food plus fare. Or beer. And he even punched a guy for me once.)

And, just to be clear, the cabbie did find him, I think he had made it a whole 30 feet down the road. (It takes longer to travel even small distances when you’re weaving and stumbling-and puking if I had to guess.)

In his defense, he did ATTEMPT to apologize the next evening. Beginning at 2 am. With texts every few minutes. My favorite one? “I apologamize.” Well, bless his little black heart.

Come on, VDay is passed-tell me your worst date. Maybe I can round-up a prize for the BEST worst tale?

© Amy Lloyd Mayfield and Amy’s Blam, 2011. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Amy Lloyd Mayfield and Amy’s Blam with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

17 Comments leave one →
  1. February 16, 2011 6:25 AM

    It’s stories like these that have instilled in me a fear of dating.

    Perhaps that’s why I’m single?

    • AmyBlam permalink*
      February 21, 2011 9:48 PM

      But dating provides excellent blog fodder! I’m considering starting again. You know, to have stuff to write about.

  2. February 16, 2011 6:56 AM

    That’s a great one! My worst date probably involved picking the guy up at his apartment (you would have thought that having no car might be my first red flag) only to find him hanging with ALL of his buds who came over to check me out. (classy, no?)

    We proceeded to go to a club to listen to live music. Except that it wasn’t a club. He took me to QUARTER BEER NIGHT at one of the bars…AND he met friends there! I don’t know…I’ve always thought I was worth more than a quarter.

    About an hour into the evening (when I was figuring I had been there long enough to make an excuse and go home) he totally DISAPPEARS. I have to assume (and I mean to THIS DAY, I don’t know) that he was crazy drunk and passed out in the men’s room. Who knows. Maybe he just left me there. Can’t even remember his name.

    But I’m sure he made some other woman VERY happy (gagging a little)

    • AmyBlam permalink*
      February 21, 2011 9:48 PM

      Were you in college? That’s the only way I can see quarter beer night MAYBE being okay.

  3. February 16, 2011 10:01 AM

    I apologamzie, but I have nothing, nothing that compares to this story. This is just rock star awesome bad! So glad you had a personal taxi driver who could rush to your aid and save you from this sop.

    • AmyBlam permalink*
      February 21, 2011 9:49 PM

      Fortunately, he waited to retire until I got married.

  4. February 16, 2011 2:13 PM

    oh man what a train wreck of a date. But good for you for meeting up with your friends and not calling it a night just because of your date. awesome.
    My worst date ended with a sadly mistaken boy thinking that just because we were kissing standing next to his car meant his next move should be to open the back door of said car and suggest i get in. NOT.

    • AmyBlam permalink*
      February 21, 2011 9:50 PM

      Ha! I had a guy try to ride in the front passenger seat of my sister’s vw bug with me. He thought it was romantic. And then he hit on my sister. While I was in his lap with my head up against the windshield.

  5. February 16, 2011 9:15 PM

    Similarish story but not quite so horrifying. Met a lovely young man at an event. Agreed to a date later. We didn’t live in the same town but he came to me. Details were sketchy…long story short: called me 7pm night of date to tell me that he had been out on the lake all day drinking and I was all “how we’re you planning on getting me around town” and he was all “I’m drunk.” Yah. HAPPY TRAILS!

    • AmyBlam permalink*
      February 21, 2011 9:51 PM

      See? I should have just NOT gone out with him. Ugh.

  6. John Rambo permalink
    February 17, 2011 12:06 AM

    Why American men should boycott American women

    I am an American man, and I have decided to boycott American women. In a nutshell, American women are the most likely to cheat on you, to divorce you, to get fat, to steal half of your money in the divorce courts, don’t know how to cook or clean, don’t want to have children, etc. Therefore, what intelligent man would want to get involved with American women?

    American women are generally immature, selfish, extremely arrogant and self-centered, mentally unstable, irresponsible, and highly unchaste. The behavior of most American women is utterly disgusting, to say the least.

    This blog is my attempt to explain why I feel American women are inferior to foreign women (non-American women), and why American men should boycott American women, and date/marry only foreign (non-American) women.


    • AmyBlam permalink*
      February 21, 2011 9:52 PM

      I’m pretty sure this is spam but I okayed it BECAUSE it’s now my favorite comment EVER. (or my hubs set this up to hassle me.)

  7. February 17, 2011 11:20 AM

    This story hands down beats any story I have.
    The worst one that comes to mind is this guy that I met on Match (yeah…I did that for a minute) and he seemed pretty cool and together and was very nice looking. So we were out having beers and I offered to get the next round, but when I got to the bar the keg needed to be changed. So I was waiting and talking to the bartender. It was no big deal. Suddenly date comes over and goes on a screaming rampage at the bartender asking what the hell is taking so long, etc etc etc. Needless to say I never went out with him again.

    • AmyBlam permalink*
      February 21, 2011 9:53 PM

      The hubs and I had done yahoo personals for about a minute but at the same time and didn’t like each other at all, site said we were NOT compatible. They were wrong. Clearly.

  8. February 17, 2011 9:34 PM

    Wow. That is a bad date. I had quite a few of those myself. Really makes me appreciate my husband.

  9. February 19, 2011 6:38 PM

    I need my own personal cabbie. For these situations alone. And really. Did you take his cleat off and kick his ass with it??

    • AmyBlam permalink*
      February 21, 2011 9:53 PM

      I SHOULD have.

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