Hi Vicki! Does it have to be a 'date' story? See, I've been married since birth it feels like, so I don't have a horror date story, BUT I have what I feel is the worst honeymoon story ever. And since I want those copies bad, would you consider broadening your category?

This is the story of how I almost broke up with the worst boyfriend I ever had.

Appropriately enough it takes place on a cold December night. He Who Shall Not Be Named picked me up from work. Unschooled in what is and isn't appropirate work wear for an adminstrative assistant, I had on a slip dress and mid-calf black boots.

Now the details of how we ended up where we did escape me, but it was dark—in an area of the many suburbs he was familiar with and I was not. Snow fell around his car, filling the empty square. I realized later it was a church parking lot. He had a thing about church parking lots. Took girls there when he worried they were going to cut him loose; he hoped for what he called "divine intervention."

We were there to break-up. He knew it. I knew it. Because I had told him that we needed to talk. And "we need to talk" only ever really means one thing in a doomed relationship, especially if said relationship was clearly headed for a crash on the "no, you're just not the one for me" rocks. That's the way the ship heads when you declare after knowing a girl for two weeks that you "love her enough for the both of us."

Let's just say... he wasn't willing to let me go. Literally. He wrapped his arms around me and demanded that I tell him why we couldn't be together.

I told him to take me home.

He said: "no, I'm not taking you home until you give me a reason why we can't be together."

"I don't like you that way."

"I don't like you that way isn't good enough."

Put yourself in my half-inch boots, ladies. In a parking lot on the side of a hill, the nearest house a good long walk through a blizzard in below freezing weather. No cell phone. Just you and Mr. Pscyhotically Lonely.

What would you do?

Well, as the rational part of my brain knew that even if I could wrench his arms off, go for the door, and make a run for it... he'd catch me. Lord only knew what would happen after that.

So I burst into tears of frustration and fear. Told him everything he wanted to hear. He was right. I was wrong. Yes, I'd try harder. It was all my fault. He was right. He was so right.

Whatever I had to say to get him to drive me home.

I broke up with him successfully over the phone a couple days later, at the urging of two classmates horrified by what had transpired.

I've had time to forgive him for being lonely, desperate, and manipulative. But I haven't forgiven him for five years of missed opportunities and relationships that didn't happen because I never wanted to be that terrified again.

But there is a happy ending: A year later, when I was living in Japan, he called me one night. Said he really wanted us to get back together when I returned. I said "no," and I kept saying it until he realized he had lost. I never spoke to him again.

C. Rooney

Hmm.. I have so many bad dates to choose from..
My most recent, turned out to be a creepy stalker. I went out with him once, found out that he was divorced twice (in his mid-30s). When I asked him what happened with those, he said, "Okay. But I after I tell you, I never want to talk about it again." Hello. Warning bells went off then! Then he procedes to tell me that both women cheated on him. Yeah right. I (stupidly) let him kiss me at the end of the date. Then I got the heck out of there. I never talked to him again, by any means. Yet he proceded to hound me for over 6 months by email, voicemail, and text message. He even moved closer! (I learned this from a text message.) Ick. Makes me scared to date someone I've never met before.

http://scifichick.com

Well, the date from junior high was bad through immaturity and stupidity on both parts. Plus, it wasn't a real date, just two kids meeting at an "Activity Night" at the local YMCA.

No, the real bad date happened later, in high school. I had moved to a new town by then and had high hopes of meeting boys who weren't going to run off because they'd known me from kindergarten. I and my friends (others who had moved there at the same time) made the rounds to all the local church youth groups trying to make friends, and meet boys. As high minded as we pretended to be, it was all about meeting boys.

I was 16, a junior in high school. We were having a dance, but I wasn't planning to go. The last time I'd gone to a dance had been after a game and I'd spent most of the time in the bathroom avoiding people I didn't know because of the knots in my stomach. But this was going to be one of those "real" dances. Not quite a prom, but not after a game either. There was going to be a theme, and pictures.

One day at lunch I was sitting with a group of people I knew from one of the youth groups. One of the girls at the table asked if anyone was going. I and another person, her brother, said no. And she said, "Why don't you two go together." He looked over and shrugged as if to say, why not? I could feel my face burn. I didn't feel like I could say no in front of all those people, but I didn't want this to be my "first" date either (and it was).

Well, everyone else was so excited I was going that I decided I could go along and go. Maybe it would be fun, even though I didn't know this guy and wasn't particularly attracted to him. I remember, he did buy the tickets, pick me up, and take me to dinner. It was a nice dinner, as far as small town nice places go.

Back then, I was mistaken for being a college student all the time. I was used to being around adults a lot at home and would just nod and smile if anyone said anything. It was easiest. It was no different at the restaurant. The first thing the waiter asked was if we wanted anything to drink, wine or a cocktail. I just said no thank you. Easier not to call attention to myself. My date burst into an embarrassing explanation about how we were actually too young, in high school in fact, and on a date, but not a real date, since we were just friends and just going to the dance to see who else we could meet.

My face burned.

After making it through dinner, we arrived at the dance probably too early to be socially acceptable. As we were waiting in line, my date reiterated that we didn't have to spend the entire evening together, we could dance together the first few dances, but it was okay to go off with someone else. In fact, maybe we should go get our pictures taken first so we could get it out of the way and wouldn't have to worry about it later. I wondered why he even bothered with the picture.

I nodded and smiled.

I hate having may picture taken. I felt fat and self-conscious and people were treating us as if we were really on a date and really liked each other.

Then we got in the gym and began to dance. Oh, he was awful. He was worse than embarrassing. He stood on his feet and bounced back and forth, like a teeter totter, looking at everyone else in the gym except at me. I moved to the music and smiled vaguely.

The first chance I got I made a break for the bathroom.

I don't remember the rest of the night. I'm pretty sure we danced a few more times before he did go home with someone else and I either got a ride home with friends or called my mom. The next week at school everyone assumed Wally (yep - that was his name) and I were going out. Only my close friends knew how miserable I had been. I avoided that youth group for the next 6 months, looking down whenever I saw him in the hallways.

I'm pretty sure I threw away the pictures.

R. Olivier

I can't resist . . .

Once upon a time, I was dating a man who worked in, umm, Chemical Distribution. In exchange for my agreeing to giving the relationship a try, he'd hung the "closed" sign up on his business. We had moved in together; it was going along fabulously. He was somehow making good money at his new job. He didn't seem to be struggling with withdrawal any more. It was all good, so I planned a romantic evening to celebrate.

I bought steaks, chilled a bottle of wine, lit candles, turned on the music. I'd come home from work early and had everything ready by the time the guys dropped him off at home. He said he had no appetite for food even though it was ALL of his favourite foods. I ignored the suspicion. He turned up the stereo and poured the wine. I ignored the little alarm in my head. . . until a while later when the CD ended and I heard a noise. There were strangers in the house, doing lines on the table, and watching us.

The best part? My honey couldn't figure out why I was being "so uptight" over it. "But you look good naked. What's the problem?" Starring in a peep show while strangers did lines in my living room by candlelight wasn't quite the date I'd planned to celebrate his new lifestyle choices . . .

Yuck, the date from hell. I so don’t want to dredge this up but for this prize I’ll have to.

When I was seventeen, my sister set me up with Jack, a friend of my sister’s boyfriend. I wish my sister had actually met Jack before setting us up but nothing I can do about it now.

First of all there was the B.O. My Lord, did that boy stink! I’d put money on it that Jack had never been introduced to a bath in his life. I could smell him before he rang the doorbell.
Then there was the state he was in. Still drunk from the night before, dressed in stretchy blue pants covered with brownish stains (I do not want to know) and a reddish pink shirt that did nothing to hide the enormous sweat stains under his arms. His breath smelled of cheesy Doritos and the first and only thing he said to me that night was ‘Ya comin’?’
That was it. No ‘nice to meet you’ or anything like that. I should have refused to go anywhere with him, but being the polite person that I am I followed him to his disgusting, dust covered, insect-infested Ford Escort. I can’t believe I got into the car but I did. And then I had to put on the slime-covered seatbelt (safety first) while I was surrounded by filth and the stench of God-knows-what. I thought I was gonna catch a disease. The car ride itself was terrifying. Thinking back, the guy was probably stoned out of his mind but I was too young and naïve to tell. As soon as we reached a red light I made a run for it. I ran and ran and ran all the way home. I thought the guy was following me but he probably hadn’t even noticed that I was gone.

I didn’t speak to my sister for a month.

Maria

http://www.shewholovesromance.blogspot.com

I thought about entering as I want the ARC, but I am guessing Ms. Frost has me beat :)

Some friends I didn’t know too well decided they wanted to set me up with their best friend. I agreed when they said it be a group outing, so there wouldn’t be too much pressure. Well, everyone backed out at the last minute, and it ended up only being the blind date, his best friend (who wanted to set us up), and me. I don’t think I said more than five words the whole night. The two college buddies sat there and talked the whole night. I felt like I was the third wheel. Our waitress talked to me (and complimented me) more than my “date” did. I’m not the least bit exaggerating. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to hear they were gay.

http://scifichick.com

And there was the time I decided (against my better judgment) to go out with an old friend that I hadn’t seen in years. Now, I already knew this guy was a bit odd, but I figured he’d done some growing up and that it’d be nice just to catch up with each other.

My first warning that things were not going to go well is when he showed up at my place to pick me up, with a bag in tow. He asked if he could use my shower and a towel. That he’d bee outside all day and wanted to shower before we left. Um, I hadn’t seen this guy in maybe 5 or 6 years and he wanted to shower at my place? Why couldn’t he do this at home? I’m not sure. I definitely wouldn’t have cared if he was late picking me up.

Well, he showered, and we left for the restaurant. While we were waiting to be seated, he asked me what I do for fun. I told him, reading, movies, art, etc.. same as always. He asked me if I went clubbing and drank. I said no, not really. (I felt like those days were over. As I was in my mid-twenties by then.) This guy was a couple years older. He got a look of complete confusion on his face and said, well what do you DO then? Like drinking and dancing is all there is in life. I sighed and rolled my eyes.

Over dinner, he asked me how I stayed so thin. I just shrugged and figured it was just good genes. He said, “Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I lost a lot of weight.”
I said, no, stupidly. But it was the truth, only because I never thought that he’d needed to loose any.

His face immediately fell. But he went on to say, “Well, I’ve been working out a lot.”

I said, “Really? That’s good.”

He said, (And I’m quoting exactly what he said) “Yeah. I’m pretty buff.” You can imagine what his expression was like.

And there was dead silence.

I had no idea what to say to that. He wasn’t at all buff. Thankfully, our waiter saved me from having to say anything.

I don’t remember the rest of the dinner or him driving me home. Only that when he dropped me off at my apartment, his car peeled out of there so fast I heard his tires squeal. I laughed all the way up to my apartment and had to tell my roommate everything immediately.

http://scifichick.com

This one is just for fun. Doesn't need to be in the contest, but one of the other stories reminded me of it.

In high school (or maybe it was college? the people involved I knew from high school), after the notorious dance. I'm pretty sure it was spring. A friend of mine wanted to "set me up" but we weren't going to go on a date, so much as "hang out" at her place out in the county (boondocks), and sit outside by the fire and "hang out." Not so bad really, if you're with people you enjoy.

Her boyfriend's best friend had just broken up with the "love of his life" and she wanted to fix us up. Now, she and her boyfriend weren't supposed to be dating in the first place. His family didn't like her and he was also dating someone else (probably why were just sitting outside by the fire). The best friend was blue having lost his girlfriend (whom I remember as being a raving bitch in high school) and spent the entire time talking about how she and he were perfect for each other. That doesn't make the date awful, though. That just makes it ordinary (to hear about your dates former girlfriends). What made it awful was my friend and her boyfriend going into the bushes to have sex while the best friend and I were talking. I remember asking her later if she was on the pill or at least had a condom and she said, "well there are three holes you know! Hope you didn't mind, but it was the only way we could get together."

Argh.

Hmm. I don't know if this counts as a horrible date story, but we'll see what you think. J and I had been dancing around each other for several months, spending time together, taking lunch breaks together, going to football games. He'd been out of town for a couple of weeks but came back the week before Christmas 1999. He called me and invited me to a party for New Year's. He said he would come and pick me up around 9. Nine passed, and nine-thirty, and at quarter of ten I called his cell phone. He didn't answer. I was envisioning a horrible car wreck, his daughter being sick, something. I tried again at ten and he answered. He was mostly drunk and unapologetic, and said he wasn't coming to get me, and moreover that I shouldn't bother coming over. So I ended up being stood up for a date on the New Year's of the millennium. (Okay, I know it wasn't the new millennium until 2001, and I know that wasn't exactly a date, but it's the worst date-related story I have.)

This has been fun to read and know we are not alone in collection of bad date stories! Thank you for bringing it up!

R. Olivier

I saw that you were allowing bad honeymoon stories and boy do I have one. I was raised a strict Catholic so my wedding night was my first time. And my groom-to-be had set up our hotel suite very romantic to make it perfect for us. There were candles, rose petals, champagne and strawberries, it was beautiful. And I couldn‘t wait. But when we got into the room and the dress and tux came off and I saw his ’thing’ a fit of giggles took me. Actually I ended up howling with laughter. I had seen a penis before in movies and the like but never up close. And I guess I was nervous too. Don’t get me wrong, my husband is well-endowed. But he took it to heart and wouldn’t speak to me for a full week in Barbados. It was awful. But finally we tried again and we had no problems. I’m so grateful he didn’t divorce me.

Aisling

When I was a teenager I was crazy about this guy in school. He had the broody, silent thing going on and every girl in school had a crush on him. One day, out of the blue he asked me out. Now I was plain Jane in high school, it wasn’t my best time, so to say I was surprised is an understatement. He swung by my house in his mustang and came inside for the meet n’ greet with my parents who he impressed with his deep voice and polite manners. And so I was very pleased with myself as I got into his car with him. But then I realised I didn’t know where we were going. He told me it was a surprise. We pulled up outside an old building. And before we got out he said to me, ‘Mary, I can tell you’re not like the other girls. You’re not pretty and you work hard and you’re really nice so I thought I could help you feel better about yourself.’ I was like Huh?! I was too shocked to say anything so I followed him into the derelict building. And I found myself among people dressed in suits holding books and there were candles everywhere. My ‘date’ told me to kneel on one of the many rugs on the dirty floor and I did it. And then I went through the most excruciating two hours of my life. It was obvious to me within 5 minutes that my date was a member of a cult and he’d brought me to one of their gatherings. I won’t tell you what type of cult it was in case I’d offend anyone but there was chanting and bible-speak and I nearly peed my pants with fear. Finally he dropped me on my doorstep in one piece, I was so grateful to make it out alive. And he said to me ‘Do you feel better about yourself now?’ And I said…..’Ummmmmmmm, thank you for a lovely evening but I like my religion’ and I bolted inside my house and locked the door.

I went on to spend the rest of the year ducking and diving whenever I saw the poor guy in the school halls.Mary

To everyone who might be wondering why I haven't replied yet -- I've had a little family crisis in the past few days, but it's better now and I should be catching up over the weekend. Just a FYI!

Best,
Vicki

My fiancé Bryan moved to France a couple of years ago, his work took him there. Unfortunately I couldn’t follow him as my college course kept me at home. We stayed in touch by lengthy phone calls (you should have seen the bills) and emails and eventually the spark ran out. Well for me anyway.. . On Valentine‘s Day last year I received a surprise telephone call from Bryan while I was at work. He wanted to tell me Happy Valentine‘s Day. What should have been a romantic few minutes turned into a sob fest with me crying down the phone to the poor man. He probably thought I missed him. Actually I was realising that there was nothing between us anymore. 10 minutes later we hung up and I felt worse than ever.
After a gruesome day I returned home to find flowers in the hallway which cheered me up slightly. Then stepping into the kitchen I got the fright of my life. Bryan was standing in front of me, dressed in a tux, holding a beautiful diamond ring in his hand. He said “M, I will not be away from you for another minute, please will you marry me?” Of course I accepted (what else could I do) and we settled down into a gourmet feast courtesy of the local restaurant, with candles and champagne all around. And then he decided to give me the second-worst news of the night. He had quit his job a month ago and was moving back home. Lord, about a week later I broke his heart and I still feel awful about it..

MD

Hmmmm...so many worst dates, so little space in this message box. Should it be the one in high school where the cool college grocery store bagboy gave me my first french kiss and actually nicked one of my tonsils? Or the one after my divorce that involved a lot of jackhammer motion on his part and me crying "UNCLE!" on mine? Or the other high school date with sno-cone truck guy where we fell asleep in his Dad's Cadillac and didn't wake up until 3AM and as we pulled quietly into the driveway and I prepared to sneak into the house, he loudly announced that he was hungry and wanted me to fix him a sandwich?

No, a worst date should involve some pain, so it has to be the one in college where I was on a first date with this guy. We drove 3 hours to a rock concert in another town and worked our way down to the front of the stage where we were smashed against a horde of other people who were screaming and rocking out to the blaring music.

Then,it happened. I felt a twinge down-under, a warm liquid slid down my freshly shaved leg, and the Mother of all Cramps laid siege to my uterus. I would have instantly curled up in a fetal position, moaning on the floor, but there wasn't any room.

I screamed "bathroom" at my date, who was totally oblivious to my humiliating tragedy, and literally fought my way to the back of the auditorium and staggered to the bathrooms where there was........a line. I stood at the back and tried to moan softly, but I finally couldn't take it anymore and announced VERY LOUDLY, "I have to go next. I believe I am dying."

There were no tampex (or hydrocodone) machines in the bathroom, so I stuffed my underpants with toilet paper and waddled over to the bar where I downed three quick bourbon and cokes.

I was in no shape to fight my way back to the front of the auditorium, so I spent the entire concert either standing bent over in the back or running to the bathroom for more tissue. My date never came to look for me.

When the concert was over, I finally spotted him filing out the door, robustly belting out one of the band's songs. I told him he had to take me straight home, but he shook his head. "No way. You owe me sex for buying you a ticket."

And that's how I realized that my mother's dictum to always put a dime in my shoe before a date in case off an emergency was the gods honest truth. (Now, the one she had about always wearing a girdle on a date was WAY off track.)

Joyce

Dear Vicki,

There is a character limit on live journal. Who knew.

I'm chatty.

Part two is not far behind.

LP

I had nothing. I was all talked out. My brain had no more to offer. I had already recalled every current event, every nondescript happening from my workday, the weather, tomorrow's weather, and the weather for the east coast. I didn't sit long enough to learn tomorrow's weather for the east coast so I was out of luck there.

He, on the other hand, just sat. He had been distant lately but not like this. He sulked. He shifted in his chair on occasion but only, it seemed, so he might transfer the 20lb chip from one shoulder to the other. His favorite expression was "nothing's wrong" for that was the only sentence he cared to offer. Well that and some random poisonous words he would arbitrarily interject into my awkward one woman monologue, but those didn't count. Those words were not encouragement for an exchange of views and ideas, but rather brief verbal spars inviting an argument. Having no desire to battle over the natural color of the bartender's hair or hear how offensive he thought one of my birthday cards were, I tried to stick with the most neutral of topics.

I stopped chatting with the wait staff 20 minutes ago even though 'the sorbet debate' was the best conversation I had all night. My polite smiles and pleasant interest in another human being was enough to create an opposite reaction in the person opposite my side of table. Being this dinner was his suggestion and the restaurant was expensive, I chose to keep
the peace and focus my attention to the silent one.

Was his mood a result of our late reservation? That was his doing not mine.

The phone rang 45 minutes before he was to pick me up, asking if I might retrieve him instead. He lived only 10 minutes away but in the opposite direction of the restaurant. Anxious to begin my birthday eve dinner, I agreed and rushed to finish my hair and dress.

I should have disagreed when he insisted I take his side street short cut instead of the highway.

I did disagree when he told me the short cut only works if you drive 60 instead of the posted 35 miles an hour.

I should have told him if he was driving his car he could go as fast as he wanted, but I was too busy removing my jewelry as discreetly as possible.

His suggestion that we dine at the very fine, very trendy Nob Hillrestaurant, inspired me to pull out the sexy black dress, the heels, the gold and all the stops on the hair. Nob Hill inspired him into a pair of slacks and a sweater. I quietly downplayed my appearance by pulling off the necklace and pulling out the updo. Lucky for me he didn't notice; or
didn't care to.

He continued to voice his displeasure with my driving as we hurried through the MGM casino to their high end restaurant. I should have followed my gut then and there which was to turn and run, but I weakly believed his mood would mellow after a drink or two.

Two Stoli martinis, three glasses of wine and an Irish coffee later his mood worsened and here I was, left with nothing more to say, except for one last topic. One last attempt to divert his attention from his undisclosed source of annoyance--final stab at conversation in the hopes of taming his surly attitude. "So the baby shower I went to last week was really nice." No response. I tried and I failed.

Solitary confinement can not be this hard.

Worst Date (continued)

Thank goodness the waiter interrupted complete silence by dropping the check. The bill totaled $245. I know that because he generously broke from his mute imitation let me know.

The drive home was uncharacteristically quiet. I had given up. I should have removed my rose-colored glasses when I did my necklace, that way I might have spared myself two incredibly uncomfortable hours that I will
never get back.

But alas I did not. So I can not.

I truly believed I could salvage this evening with charm and civility, now I just believed I needed to be alone. As I pulled up to his house, he mentioned he was too tired to invite me in, which pretty much quelled my hopes of extending this hell. I got a peck on the cheek, perhaps because my jaw was still dropped open in disgusted disbelief and he mumbled a quick "happy birthday" before hustling to his front door.

I sat in the car for another moment, mouth still agape. Then, deciding to block the evening out of my mind I threw the car in reverse and backed out of his driveway. I was calculating which liquor store was closest when I saw his porch light flick on and his front door open. He waved to me and jogged towards my vehicle. My heart swelled with hope for an apology or explanation. The passenger side door opened and I got neither. I did get relieved of the doggy bag he mistakenly left in my car.

The next day I called him to break up, but I wasn't able to because he said his cell phone was doing exactly that. Without further ado I ended the call and deleted his number. He wasn't worth the air time.

And that was the best birthday gift I gave myself that year.

Mouth agape...
Yeah.
I'm kinda having that reaction now myself.

I'm a little curious as to why he was such an asshat that night. And why, if he was going enjoy dinner so much {rolling eyes}, he didn't just bow out altogether. Ever find out?

BTW, happy belated birthday. {wry g}

Vic

A good southern girl _always_ has a dime in her shoe (although now it you have to have fifty cents for a phone call and that gets kind of clunky in your shoe).

Good storytelling, eh? Maybe I should abandon the lavender business and start writing again. ;)

Joyce