Romance Writers Weekly – Date Disasters

I’ve been a slacker of late with my Romance Writers Weekly pals, but this week’s topic was just too damned funny to pass up. The topic: Disastrous Dates.

Two came to mind for me, both a result of online dating.

Now, before I get too far down the road and I give you the impression that online dating is a plague to be avoided, let me tell you that I met my husband via the internet.  (Obviously, he was my last experience with online dating. 🙂 ) But before hubster became “the hubster,” there were other…um…interesting outings thanks to the beloved Match.com.

Disaster #1 – The Obvious Eye Shift

There was one guy–a rugged, flannel wearing fella–I’d agreed to meet in person after chatting back and forth for about a week. I followed all the normal precautions; public place, friends knew where I was, yadda-yadda.  We met at what my family calls a fancy hamburger joint and spent most of our time rehashing the get-to-know-you stuff we’d already talked about on the phone. It was just awkward. No spark. No real meaningful conversation. Just that weird I-must-be-social vibe relegated to mind-numbing, forced cocktail hours. I’d never watched so eagerly for the waitress to show up with a check in my life.

And then it came. 

The waitress left the check in the middle of the table, clearly uncertain if we were one a date or some forced form of torture.

He looked at it.

And then he looked at me.

And then he looked at it again.

And went back to finishing his burger.

What the fuck? He wants me to pay?

Yes, that’s what I thought. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I have zero problem picking up my own tab. But I’m kind of old-school in that I’d at least like the guy to reach for the damned bill in the name of chivalry and give me a chance to offer.

I reached for the tab.

He didn’t stop me.

I laid down my credit card.

He still didn’t stop me.

The waitress came, grabbed the bill, and strode off. 

Flannel dude said, “So, what would you like to do after this?”

Needless to say, we did nothing. I claimed an early day at work, signed the bill, and got the hell out of dodge.

Disaster #2 – I Know You’re In There

When I first signed on to Match.com, it was a relatively new concept. (Yes, hubster and I have been married that long.) Naturally, I assumed that all men seeking dates were interested in building new relationships…and that they were available for new relationship.

Let me ‘splain…

The guy in question was damned good looking–muscular build, shaved head, professional clothes. Kind of a biker-meets-executive but in casual Friday attire. We met for drinks on a Thursday night and instantly hit it off. We laughed, we drank, we talked…and then he invited me back to his place.

Hmmm….

What to do.

Online dating 101 says this probably isn’t a good idea on date one, but the two margaritas I’d had were weighing my judgment toward a, “What the hell” response.

Yes, yes, I know. Totally irresponsible, but I went. To my credit, I called my bestie and gave her his address, so I wasn’t totally stupid.

We got to his house and proceeded to play pool. For a little while anyway. We kind of got distracted when he showed me how to line up a particular combo shot…him leaning over me, his front to my back. A totally cliched move, but like I said, the guy had a body. And dayam, did his chest feel good.  

That was distraction number one. Distraction number two came immediately thereafter when he further demonstrated how damned good he could kiss…and talk. 

Yep.

He used words. Delicious, sexy words that rattled clear down to my toes and every important part in-between.

Don’t have a freakin’ clue what they were anymore. I just remember my brain threw up the white flag and my body took over. It was a forgone conclusion that I would NOT be going home that night.

Until….

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK

DING-DONG, DING-DONG, DING-DONG

“Open up, damn it! I know you’re in there.”

Um, what?

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK

DING-DONG, DING-DONG, DING-DONG

“Damn it, <Guy’s name>! I know you’re in there, now open the damned door!”

Good looking guy pulled away and mutter other, less enjoyable words as he peeked out the  front window. More foul words followed. He strode back to me, gripped my arm, and steered me to the back of the house. “You gotta go.”

“Who is that?” I asked, still completely dazed from the yummy words and his incredibly skilled lips.

“My girlfriend.”

“You’re what?”

He handed me my purse on the way to the back door. “Well, sort of my girlfriend. We were broken up. Kind of.”

Son of a bitch. He had a girlfriend. Asking if he was involved hadn’t even freakin’ occurred to me. I mean, he was on Match.com for cryin out loud. Why in the world would he be on Match.com if he wasn’t interested in–

Oh.

One of those kind of guys.

Needless to say, I learned to figure that part out going forward.

Total disaster. Probably a freakin’ miracle said girlfriend didn’t slash my tires before she started pounding on the front door.

What about you? Have you ever found yourself having to pick up the tab or inadvertently playing the part of “the other woman”?

Next in the RWW line up is Leslie Hachtel. Lets see what kind of Date Disasters she’s got in store! 

Thanks for stopping by!