#terribledates

I'm sorta just listing events from the date off but its not entirely in order, and I most certainly forgot a few details bc it was all so stressful and chaotic

Mostly posting this for myself and my friends to gawk at (hi! 💓)

We met on the hellsite grindr. They're conventionally attractive, a bit odd and confusing through text, but were nice and seemed chill overall. We exchanged socials prior to meeting up and they had no local friends or much online community at all despite living in the area their whole life but I chalked it up to being newly trans.

These were the red flags I shouldn't have ignored, if you're keeping track lmao

I agreed to come to their place and my boyfriend dropped me off

First off I aint judging, but their house was completely empty besides their room even tho they claimed to have roommates and werent moving/recently moved?? unrelated but justa odd vibe and potential red flag lol

They were so erratic from the moment I met them they just kept talking n talking, and were clearly not all there bc I couldn't understand alot of what they were sayin. It made conversation so hard.

We sat on the floor of their bedroom and smoked wii'd

They got very emotional about everything and would like jump up and like grab n shake me by the shoulders to emphasize the shit they were babbling 😭

Throughout the date they gave lil signs that they were a volatile person like they explained how they have had frequent fall outs w friends and family, their exs have called the cops on them on numerous occasions(explained in bits n pieces throughout the date during their semi-coherent rambles), and they had spicy reactions to me, just like, saying anything.

Thoughout the date they said the R word 3 times even after i told them it upset me, both to be funny and because they were mad at someone in their head, they made fun of muslims(amongst many others), told me "i dont go too far left, my political opinions will get me in trouble" and didnt elaborate when I tried gently asking about it.

They asked if I wanted to have sex like 4 times like out of nowhere in different ways and I had to say "Ive told you no 4 times, absolutely not, please stop" and kept pushing questions about my kinks. They also really hammered on how confusing polyamory was and made it clear that they thought it was dumb and funny that I have an asexual partnership w my fiance even though I explained it all to them prior ro meeting. :')

Like 6 times throughout our 4 hour date they made themselves so mad from talking(basically to themselves) about their traumas that they were like yelling at themselves while staring at the ground??

Surprisingly the thing that made me text my boyfriend to pick me up ASAP was they asked me to buy them food like over and over and made me explain why I didn't want to do that it was so creepy and weird and upsetting, ik it sounds dumb but just the way they were saying shit n pushing it really triggered my anxiety 😭

(obviously manipulative voice that i notice immediately): "aw you know I could really go for some icecream but ive been broke recently and i have no food in my fridge"

me, knowing whats coming, already so sick of them: "Ah I feel you I love icecream, and I've been nearly broke recently too"

"..please buy me icecream?"

"uh no im sorry not today"

"please?"

"uuuuh, what? I dont really feel like it i already bought us snacks and i dont have alot of money"

"you said *nearly broke*. Can you please?"

"no"

"why not you have money"

and just kept going and was like asking how much I had in my bank account 😭

i try to ignore my phone when im w people to be respectful so the first time i texted my bf was to get rescued right after they begged me for food money and they just stared at me silently for like 15 seconds while I was texting before angrily saying "Oh so do you talk shit to your boyfriend when your grindr dates aren't going well? Is that it?"

for my safety I had to pretend like I was willing to go on a second date but I blocked her everywhere except grindr before I was even out of her driveway 😭😭

its hard to fully explain how fucking weird and bad this date was

One last small thing lmaooo when she put a youtube video on for us to watch she just straight up unblinkingly stared directly at my face to gauge my reactions to it FOR THE ENTIRE VIDEO I STG IF THAT ISNT SERIAL KILLER VIBES DUDE

Im tired, I just wanted headpats but I put myself in danger instead uuuugghhh

Part of it was absurd and almost-funny, I couldn't believe what was happening at times, but it was also mostly just super stressful. Lots of thoughts n anxiety swirling through my silly kitty brain 😖

Welcome to “Little Black Book.” Every week, I will post a funny recap of a terrible date. These are not dating stories from me, (you get enough of me on the Internet) these are stories submitted by readers from all over the place. Sadly, or fortunately for me, dating isn’t only terrible in Los Angeles.

If you have any interest in submitting a story, anonymously to everyone else of course, please let me know.

FOREPLAY

Day of date: Friday. At 9pm. Seriously. Which validates how willing I was to try at this whole dating thing. I wouldn’t agree to meet some of my best friends at 9pm on Friday night. I’m usually ready for bed by then. 

Date number: First date.

Date venue: Clifton’s in DOWNTOWN LA. If you’re unfamiliar with Los Angeles, going downtown by yourself as a female on a Friday night at 9pm is scary. Also, I live nowhere near DTLA so this was out of my way. Again, because everyone gives me shit about being so picky about dating, I was determined to give this a fair shot.   

How was the “ask” made? I agreed to this date because he is very, very funny. Like, had me laughing out loud through text message exchanges AND he didn’t use any emojis. That is really all I want in a man friend, so when he asked with an accompanying joke, I said yes. This is probably also why I agreed to 9pm in DTLA on a Friday. Clearly, I’m not over that as this was a month ago. 

How did you prepare? I worked out, like I’m one of those dudes that does pushups before having sex to look more muscular, rinsed off and went to DryBar for a blow out. Drove home and put on a backless dress (sexy without being too obvious or ‘easy’) and heels, because legs. Tossed on some mascara and called an Uber to make my trek Downtown. 

Anything else we should know before we get to the date? I alluded to this before, but I hate dating. I don’t use dating apps. I don’t like strangers. I don’t like going out at 9pm on Friday’s. I don’t like talking about myself. The last one is definitely a lie. 

DATE STORY

Tell us about the date: I walked into the restaurant and he was waiting by the entrance with a cocktail. Perfect. He’s hot, funny and likes a stiff drink. I smile and think, “alright Ab, turn on the charm.” Clifton’s is a unique place in that there are bars on every floor. We walk up the first set of stairs to the bar, make small talk and order a drink. He orders bourbon and thanks to my time in Kentucky and my years as a bartender I am able to “talk bourbon” which usually impresses the fellas. When he pays, we head up another set of stairs and sit down to watch a band play. We banter back and forth making jokes about other people in the room and about the members of the band -- you know, casually getting to know each other by making jokes at others’ expense. 

I then ask him about his taste in music. We’re watching a band, I’m trying to appear smart -- seems like a logical question. He let’s me know that music is actually a passion of his as he’s also a songwriter. I live in Los Angeles, so I’m used to shit like this. At least he didn’t say actor. I ask him what kind of songs he writes and he responds with a version of, “well, it’s not like the comedy writing that you’re used to. It’s more emotional and thoughtful.” 

I’m not totally sure if this is an insult and I know that I over think things a lot, so I let that one go. 

I tell him that makes sense and then ask what he considers his best work as a songwriter. He says, “good question” and I think, “yea, no shit” before he continues by dramatically humming and placing his finger on his chin, to really show me he’s putting some thought into this. He then gets very frustrated with himself because he just cannot, for the life of him, think of the title of his best song. So, I ask what it’s about to which he replies, “my cat.” 

If you haven’t met me, I am a person whose face tells you everything you need to know about what I’m thinking. Knowing this, I actively try to make myself seem interested and helpful rather than laughing out loud. “Your best song is an emotional and thoughtful piece about your cat? I’ll never get through this” are my thoughts.  

That being said, he grows more irritated that he can’t figure this song title out so I ask him what the cats name is. He says, “Bailey, but that’s not the title.” 

Okay. So now he’s being kind of a dick and he’s really upset about not being able to remember. I decide I’m just going to go for it. 

I suggest he sings a few lines to try and help remember the title. He doesn’t sing them but he does go into detail of what the lyrics were about. Apparently, his cat had cancer. The song was about the day that he and his sister brought the cat to the vet to have it put to sleep. When it was dead, they wrapped it in a plastic bag and put it in a shoebox to bury. His favorite part of the title-less song is the memory of walking into the field with his sister to bury the cat. 

You’re probably going to think I’m an asshole, but I can’t help to hold back giggling through this story. Not like loud, rude laughter, but the kind where I have to turn away and pretend I’m blowing my nose more than once. I’m holding it in so hard that there are tears welling up in my eyes and my face is bright red. 

He tells me, “this isn’t funny” and because he is funny I don’t know if he’s being serious or just fucking with me and I’m not sure how to react. He asks if I want another drink and I say a resounding yes. 

When he gets back with our drinks, we have nothing to really talk about. I ask about his family and other generic questions but I’m getting nowhere. Surprising to me, after we finish our drinks he asks if I want to check out another place. I agree and he takes me to a brewery. I order a glass of wine and he’s very perturbed by this because apparently at brewery’s you order beer. I’m thirty years old and I will drink whatever I want to drink, thanks. 

He is so bothered at this he can’t talk about anything else and insists I try his beer. I do and it tastes like shit. 

I have no idea what we talked about at this point to be honest. Not because I’m three drinks and a sip of beer in but because now I just want to be at home. Or like, on my phone telling my friends what just went down. 

How did the date end? We finished our drinks and he suggests that I call an Uber from his office which is up the street. We walk to his office which is not up the street and I’m in heels, perpetuating my desire to be at home by myself. When we get there he asks if I’d like to see upstairs and since this ain’t my first rodeo I decline his sex invitation and hop in the first Uber I see.

Would you see him again? To be honest, I think laughing at his dead cat was a real deal-breaker. 

Anything you’d like to make sure I don’t forget to include? If you’re reading this and want to take me on a date, I prefer dinner at like 6:30 on a Wednesday. I’ll try not to laugh at any dead pet songs you may have written. 

His name is Rich and I agreed to go on a date with him because he had very interesting rope bondage pictures on his profile.  They looked artsy and fun, and he looked like a pretty smart guy.

We meet at Berry Park, a bar in Brooklyn, and the second he says hello I knew it wasn’t going to work.  He doesn’t really understand my sense of humor and answers all my jokes as if I was being completely serious.  This isn’t enough for me to just leave, but it gets so much worse.

Halfway through his beer, he brings up the subreddit fatpeoplehate.  He starts laughing - full on, maniacal laughter, head thrown back and everything.  He says they are the funniest people ever.  He asks me what I think of them and if I thought it was fair that reddit banned them.  I don’t know what to say, really, so I just shrug and say that Reddit has the right to ban whoever they want.

He then asks if I want to see photos of what he does: bondage.  Thinking he means other artsy photos, I say yes.  He whips out his humongous phone - this thing is practically an ipad mini - and holds up a picture of his penis penetrating a girl.  At this point, I quickly finish my drink, get up, and tell him that I’m not comfortable with him and get the fuck out of there.

He texts me two hours later: “Would you like me to drench your tits in white, frothy cum?  And batter you with my semen?”

“B” was set up years ago, post-college graduation, on what she thought was a meeting with a career coach - the kind of person who teaches you how to ace an interview, flesh out a resume, win friends and influence people. Whatever.

She arrived for her Saturday afternoon appointment at a nearby school with no makeup on and last night's greasy hair, with her resume in hand and a can-do attitude. She hadn't been having much luck with the job market and was excited to buckle down and get cracking with a professional. (She might have been wearing sweatpants? That part could just be wishful thinking, but I like to set a scene.)

The career coach, it turned out, was actually a special education teacher. He had also been kept in the dark about the true reason for their set-up, which was this: a well-intentioned, if not totally insane mutual friend thought the two young hotties would meet cute after immediately realizing upon introduction that the "meeting" was a total sham. Because of course. What could go wrong? 

This guy, being a special ed teacher, had assumed he would be meeting a young mentally challenged girl. After all, their mutual friend had requested he help out "a nice girl [she] knew who was trying to get a job." No other qualifiers. Expecting this, he had prepared a few colorful printouts of things to help said girl in the real world - inappropriate vs. appropriate touching, indoor voices, that kind of thing. When he realized a few minutes into their chat that B was not, in fact, mentally handicapped, he leaned back in his chair and said, "I guess we know what's really going on here." 

B did not know. B, from the moment she'd entered this guy’s office, had been too focused on the blinding and disturbing realization that their mutual friend, a woman who mere hours ago she would have listed as a DEAR, CLOSE FRIEND, was clearly under the impression that B was severely, severely mentally handicapped. 

She was confused and upset. She'd come for a little career advice, a leg up in the world. She had recently graduated college with honors and was sitting under a finger painting of a rainbow, feeling nauseated. 

When the guy explained that they'd obviously been set up, she was stumped. 

Like on a hidden camera show?

"Like on a date," he clarified. "You and me."

B was even more upset. This guy? This is the kind of guy that her friend thought she should be dating? What kind of fucking vibes am I giving off to the world? What is happening right now 

I may have forgotten to mention that the man in question had…wait for it, because it's good…really, really gray skin. (Sue me. I love a good twist.) Not just a hint of gray; we're talking elephant gray. The kind of gray that alarms children, that speaks to someone having recently been poisoned. The kind of gray that looks good on a pair of sling-backs. The kind of gray that J.Crew would annoyingly call "asphalt." GRAY.

B wanted to run. She wanted to cry. She wanted some goddamn career coaching. 

"I guess we should go to dinner," he said.

"Okay," she said, completely defeated by life.

She called me from her car. "The career coach is actually a gray-skinned special ed teacher. He asked me out to dinner. He told me to just follow him to the restaurant."

"WHAT? GO HOME," I yelled into my phone.

"I can't, I feel bad. His skin is really gray. Like metal."

"GO HOME RIGHT NOW."

"…No, I can't. That would be rude. I have to go, I'm getting on the highway."

"B, DON'T GET ON THE HIGHWAY. DO NOT FOLLOW THAT GRAY MAN. GO HOME AND I WILL MEET YOU THERE WITH WINE."

She hung up.

He drove her an hour north, across state lines, to a former strip club-turned strip steak house modeled after a log cabin. His teeth, she noticed, were all slightly pointed at the ends, like tiny knives. He talked with his mouth open. His skin remained a terrifying, medically impossible gray throughout the evening. The food was okay.

At the end of their dinner he told her that, while she wasn't really his usual type, she seemed like a cool chick, and that for their next date she'd be coming to his basement to watch The Nightmare Before Christmas. "It's my favorite movie," he confided, "I can't believe you've never seen it. I know all the words. I've seen it like a hundred times."

She thanked him for his time, and for dinner. Then told him goodnight. 

Then told me the whole story during the hour-long drive south she had to take to get home.