By “Samantha Jones”
What’s with the alias? Ummmm…because we all have professions and careers that we’d like to keep…but we’d still like to talk about sex openly/honestly.
Love is a freaking battlefield. From eskimo sisters to OK Cupid, it is ROUGH being single. But one of the worst things that can happen to a single gal is meeting a promising new suitor… getting asked out on a date… booking a mani/pedi… shaving your legs… getting all gussied up – and then disaster strikes.
Now GOTGers are all smart, independent career women…but even we have lapses in judgment when it comes to accepting dates from horrible men on the grid.
And since today is V-Day (the WORST “Hallmark holiday” ever), we wanted to share our (unfortunately very true) stories with our readers. Enjoy – and hopefully it’ll make your day a bit brighter!
Mr. Sneaky Swinger
After recently moving to Sacramento, I was out at The Park (which was actually cool at the time, hence dating this story) and met this seemingly normal, cool guy on the dance floor. We had a great time getting our groove on the entire night, so when he asked me out the next weekend to go dancing at Faces, I thought “Sure why not?” I mean what is more harmless than meeting up to go dancing at a gay bar, right? When we got to Faces that evening, he introduced me to some of his “friends” who also happened to be there that evening. They were mostly couples in their mid 30s to 40s and they all seemed exceedingly friendly. After receiving several unusually long and uncomfortable hugs from all in attendance, I asked how my date knew them. He responded by telling me that he had met them in a group online and that they were all actually meeting in person for the first time that evening. When I inquired what kind of interests they shared, he responded by telling me that he had brought me to the club for a SWINGERS MEET-UP!!!!! Perhaps if any of them had actually been attractive, the night may have ended differently, but I promptly walked outside, hopped in a cab, and avoided all phone calls from Mr. Swinger from that point forward.
Mr. Looking for A Sugar Momma
I was 20, casually seeing this cute guy we’ll call “Cliff” whom I’d met through a friend of a friend- dude was 21. That one year gap is important at that age. I had to cancel a date with Cliff at the last minute, (funny in hindsight, because it was to hang out with my now husband) and told him I’d make it up to him the next weekend. I thought it’d be cute of me to get all chivalrous on it; I drove to his house, insisted on driving, took him to Paesanos, and told him it was my treat. It was just our 2nd date so even though I said I would pay I was really expecting Cliff, as a gentleman, to put up a little bit of a fight when the bill came around. We got to the restaurant, sat on the patio, and he asks “so it’s on you, right?” and proceeded to order a three course meal and the most expensive bottle of wine on the menu (which I couldn’t have any of, since I wasn’t of age). He ate all of his food, drank the entire bottle of wine and when the bill came to the table, you guessed it, pushed it my way. I took his wine-drunk a$$ home with quickness.
Mr. Face Malfunction
A guy took me out on Valentine’s Day after we’d been dating for a few weeks. The date went really well and, when we came home, we started kissing on the front porch of his house. He pulled away because he said he felt something on his face. When I opened my eyes, I saw that he had blood running down his cheeks. He said he always had a problem with bloody noses, and he had gotten one when we were kissing! He acted like it was no big deal, but I never heard from him again, and I guess I don’t entirely blame him.
Mr. Looking for a Cougar
In high school, when there wasn’t a house party to fill our Saturday nights, my gal pals and I would cruise the streets at night stopping at coffee shops and parking lots full of hot rods and teenage boys. We were always looking for the most exciting activity to fill the night. In the last month of my senior year we met some guys in a Starbucks parking lot. That’s when I saw “the date” playing guitar (I’ve always had a weakness for musicians). When I chatted him up, I discovered that he was both easy on the eyes and very sweet. Although he was more shy than I had expected, he still asked me out for the following weekend. I said yes without blinking an eye (I didn’t learn the game of “hard to get” until college). There was one red flag — he didn’t have a car. A mandatory for the less hot variety of male, but for this one I would make the exception. He was older after all, attending the local community college and working for his dad’s business (or so he said). The next weekend I picked him up at the “house he rented with friends” and we went out to a subpar meal at a pedestrian suburban restaurant followed by a movie. He was sweet, he was good looking and he was an older boy! I was on top of the world! He told me he had graduated from the neighboring high school two years earlier and since we kept archived yearbooks for that school in our year book department, my friends and I set out to find his high school past…these were the days before Facebook and Google stalking your dates was not yet the obligatory first step after meeting someone. A funny thing happened when perusing those yearbooks, he wasn’t in them. Puzzled by his missing photos…I innocently thought that maybe he just wasn’t there on picture day. But my friends didn’t have the same rose colored glasses. On a hunch, they began sifting through the name directories of that same school but for years much later…they figured it at least had to be a half truth. And there, in the same year of our senior yearbook (they had already been released for the year at this time thus our downtime to stalk) at the other school was a picture of him. As. A. freshman!!!! I was 18 making out with a 14 year old in a movie theater. Good thing statutory french kissing isn’t a crime (please don’t let it be a crime!) No level of hotness could make up for the lies and the age difference – four years is a much bigger deal when the gap means your date can’t vote, drive or work! I never returned his call again. I will say though, if I were single these days I would want to know what that hottie was up to.
During the first six months after I moved back to Sacramento I went on more online dates than I would care to admit. On one of these mostly subpar dates I went out with a guy I will call “The Poet.” The first thing The Poet taught me was that you should never ever go on an online date with someone who doesn’t smile with their teeth in any of their photos. His teeth weren’t full-blown Austin Powers, but they were not helping him out in the looks department. The Poet spent most of dinner regaling me with tales of how much of an almost famous poet he is. Did you know that there are literary groupies for subpar, still alive, bad teeth poets? No you didn’t because this guy made that up. Perhaps the best story was the one about how he “accidently” took a hit of acid and was “totally tripping balls” when he had to go on “stage” to do a reading. He tripped so hard that he ended up having to go to the ER somewhere in Chicago where they hooked him up to crazy IV stuff that cleared out the acid. I asked him if he wrote a poem about the experience and he scoffed at me like I was being serious. “Art is more than drug trips,” he told me with Indian food particles stuck in his teeth. He continued to go on and explain to me what his artistic process was and at that point I started to look for exits. When the check came he loudly exclaimed that he was really glad I didn’t order anything to drink because the check would have been way too much. He made a big show of paying for the bill and then handed it to the waitress. Five minutes later the waitress returned and said that the card had been declined. Two declined cards later and several attempts from me to try to pay for the bill myself The Poet said he knew that he had money and would run to the ATM. As soon as he was out the door I started waving at the waitress like a crazy person and practically threw my card at her to pay the bill. I also ask her if there was a back exit. Unfortunately, The Poet returned before the waitress did with my card. Lesson learned right there: always have cash on you for the first, second and third dates. You never know if you’ll need to exit quickly. Oh, and he had returned without any cash! He then insisted that I walk with him to the ATM so he could prove that it was the bank and that he really did have money. According to the ATM he had a $0 balance. Smooth move bro. And finally to top it all off he asked me if he could have the leftovers that I had taken for his lunch tomorrow. I said no and got in my car.
Mr. Wrong Girl
I was home one winter break from college helping my dad recover from surgery. I needed to get out so my friend and I went to Pine Cove. It was the first and last time I’ve been there legally. Ok so I used to sneak in with my cousin’s i.d. or find out the color of the stamp that night and X myself, it was a simpler time. Fast forward to the end of the night and a guy, let’s say “Keith” gave me his scarf when I was cold and I gave him my number when he asked. We made plans to go to dinner and he picked me up from my dad’s house. When I opened the door I could tell something was off. “Keith” was super quiet so I kept coming up with random things to talk about. I thought maybe he was nervous or had beer goggles on the other night…it was bad but great that he ordered a bottle of wine because thankfully I do not remember most of this date. Back at home from Awkward First No Second Date-land, I get a text from “Keith”: “Sorry I thought I was texting your blonde friend. You win I took 2 shots.” I do not remember what I bet him or his name, thank you brain. Seriously though couldn’t he just omit that detail and not text me back?!?!