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I liked his dogs more than I liked him. So, one month on Match.

First Date Horror Stories: Women Tell All

I had actively avoided actually going on a date for a number of years, such was the horror it brought to mind. In my previous dating life I had had men get in fights with taxi drivers, perform magic tricks to the whole pub in front of me, and on another occasion the guy left with a different girl. Dating had not treated me well.

Those are all stories for another time. So I signed up to an internet dating site. It was all fairly straightforward, if a little more regimented than I would have liked. Like applying for a particularly vague and yet specific job. Anyway, soon I started getting messages from various men. Most of them much, much older than me, and many living far, far away. Then I got a message from a man who was my age, AND who was able to string a sentence together. He seemed quite funny and seemed to have a brain. I replied to his initial message and got a reply within the day.

He asked funny, insightful questions, and seemed creative, despite his professing to be a sporty type. At this point he seemed quite normal. We carried on writing to each other and he suggested we might want to meet up. My evenings were pretty busy, so it was over a week before we eventually met.

He had set the time and the place, which was miles from my house. After much deliberation I had decided just to go in jeans and white lace trimmed top with my faux-riding boots.


Smart-ish, but still comfortable in case we ended up randomly in a boat. Just as I was pulling in to the road I was heading for I got a text message. I pulled into the pub car park and checked my phone. As I sent it he came out of the pub. The first surprise was how short he was. He was massively camp too. Still, I thought, give him a chance, he might still be lovely. We did the air-kissing-pleased-to-meet-you thing and went into the pub.

He bought me a coke and said I should go and sit down.

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I chose a quiet corner and took my coat off. I took my drink and did a little taken-aback chuckle. Maybe he was just nervous and it was a momentary lapse. We then did some small talk about my drive up, the weather and so on. Erm… maybe that was a compliment. I was sticking with it. I then tried to change the subject and asked him what it was he actually did for a living. He got very anxious and defensive.

I decided to leave it, but thought it was a little odd.

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All of my spider senses were now tingling and I was feeling distinctly uncomfortable. He decided to talk about his love of tango dancing. Not only did he tell me about how he loves tango dancing, but he also told me how brilliant he was at it. If I had seen that written down I would have taken it as a joke.

Alarm bells were really starting to ring. I asked him about his love of travel, which he had talked about extensively before we had met up. He told me how he was going to a couple of European destinations this year with his friend David. We talked a bit about Barcelona and he asked me where they should go when they were out there. Phew, safer ground at last. He then went on to explain, in the campest manner possible, how he and David liked to invent stories about people in the pub. Fair enough, I thought. Lots of us do that.

However, he said they then liked to go and tell people the stories they made up, a lot of which sounded very cruel. I asked why he had chosen this particular pub to meet in. I looked at the TV that was on in the pub and made a comment about not having seen the news that day yet trying to excuse myself watching the TV while on a date. I find it really depressing.

I mean, nothing good is ever reported on is it. I used to like Newsround, did you watch that? I loved John Craven, and his jumpers. I mentioned how the Vice-Chancellor at my university was called John Craven. I laughed to myself, bemused at why I was doing this to myself. Yes, Alan, yes it was. I checked my phone. I said I was, ignoring the additional commentary I added.

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Barack Obama was now on television. I drained the last of my Coke and stood up. That night, 11 came and went. He finally shows up around Once he returns, we order drinks and continue the small talk of a first date. My sister had explained to him that I was new to the dating scene again, so he uses this as a topic of discussion.

He then mentions he broke up with his ex-girlfriend a few weeks ago. Although, he goes on, he didnt fall for her trick because they only had sex three times, each time using a condom. I make the mistake of letting him choose the place. We walk into this old shack it smells like urine and I immediately see someone dressed as Sasquash as we walk in the door. We get drinks he pays… obviously remembering his wallet this time and we sit at the back of the bar at a broken table, continuing awful conversation. By this time, I have had enough.

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He suggests I go back into the dive bar to use the bathroom. I then decide I can not continue to beat around the bush and tell him there is no way I will use that bathroom. We pull up to my house and I realize he might try to go in for a kiss. As he is pulling up to the curb, without waiting for the car to stop I open the door and begin to step out, thanking him for the night. First of all, Buffalo Wild Wings? The young man was a twenty something Jewish guy transplanted from Philadelphia to DC. Little did I know what horrors would ensue.

We met for happy hour around 6: And not just talking about the Phillies game, they were discussing life, he was asking if the guy had friends who needed an apartment, blah blah blah. Steve legitimately started a man date with this other Phillies fan before I even arrived at the bar. This happened multiple times to the point where his new lover, was actually like, Hey, man. Arent you on a date over there?

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Maybe I should go on a date with you. I had only stopped at my apartment for a second after work before meeting him, so I had on the blouse and cardigan that I had worn to work, but I swapped my skirt for some skinny jeans and flats. A little into our date, he decided to tell me that he hated cardigans. Oh my, I thought This silly boy doesnt even know what a cardigan is! So I said, Oh, no actually this is a cardigan, gesturing to my adorable ensemble. To which Steve stated, Yeah, I know. I hate itI like your tight and sexy pants though. Uuh, how do you even come back from that?

In addition to insulting me, he also seemed to enjoy talking about inappropriate topics of conversation. You read that in the Wall Street Journal?

First Date Horror Stories: Women Tell All

You are so wise. Then he decided to explain to me that he prefers to have sex with one person at a time. At first he was joking around and that was fine, but then he kept coming back to it and asked me if I preferred more than one person at a time. I told him that in general, I like to keep it an intimate one-on-one situation, but thanks very much for asking.

And then he wanted to go into a conversation about shaving private areas??? When I called him out on it he said, Whatever, I was in a frat. At the end of the date, I started talking about how I was tired and needed to get up early in the morning, which apparently to him meant order another beer.

In any case, the last hour was pretty blah because I wanted to get out of there and probably should have just left, but Im too nice of a person. I stuck it out and probably took a step backward for womankind everywhere. It was tongue city and it was not cute. This went on for way too long and I spent the metro ride home wiping slobber off of my chin and questioning my faith in the opposite sex. He kept G-chatting me after the date which I ignored and he finally fizzled away into the JDate ether, never to be heard from again.

That is until I was leaving St.

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