Really, There are No Winners

Have you checked out “You Spin Me Right Round Baby” yet? No? You really should. Circlestar is freaking hysterical and has excellent musical taste to boot. I’ll wait for a moment while you scroll down and check out her blog. Good stuff.

A recent post of hers was about a less-than-successful first date. We talked about the fact that it’s sad that the best stories are from horrible dates. I mean, it’s lovely if he shows up with flowers and opens doors and even does that whole stand-up-when-you-enter the room thing that makes me swoon (pay attention, dudes) but that does not make for great entertainment. And we all know I’m always up for a laugh at your expense. Don’t look at me like that. You know you’ve gotten a good chuckle out of a few of my unfortunate dating disasters. It’s cool, admit it.

So, Circlestar and I are starting up a little contest here. Not sure what we’ll do about prizes here and this is totally subjective…so just do it because you like us and damn it, this could be fun. We’ll call it “The Best Worst Date Story Ever Contest.” God, how awesome would be it be if we got Trojans and Xanax to sponsor this? SO AWESOME!

Please, no “I got my period while wearing white pants!” or “And then I farted in front of her!” stories. This is not the Say Anything section of YM magazine and who the hell wears white pants on a first date? You’re asking for trouble and deserve to be single. Especially if you were wearing them after Labor Day. I mean, my God.

These need not be bad FIRST date stories. Sometimes the freaks fly under the radar and we get all the way to date #3 and realize, “Holy crap, you’re nutburgers!” Since humiliation does not discriminate, neither do we: gay, straight, bi, married, single, whatever… participation from anyone and everyone is highly encouraged!

Let’s hear it, kids. Sumbit the stories to either one of our blogs via the comment section, or feel free to email them if you’d prefer. Circlestar and I are the boss of this thing, so we’ll decide who wins (or loses, really) this little contest. We’ll post, mock and judge them because hello? This is all about laughing at the misfortune of others.

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4 thoughts on “Really, There are No Winners

  1. Oooh, this is gonna be fun.

    So, last year, I dated this guy named Michael. I knew his whole family before I met him, and each of his family members kept telling me how well I’d get on with Michael. It seemed, therefore, that we had an auspicious beginning. Michael and I finally met and hit it off right away. We had a few dates and things were going well, from my perspective. But then we had sex (he REALLY does have a small dick, by the way, and came in about two seconds). Post-coitus, I did not hear from him for a few days. I didn’t want to be the psycho girlfriend, so I didn’t call too much. Then, I finally got PISSED and left a curt message on his voicemail. And then . . . he sent me an E-MAIL to break up with me. An E-MAIL. That’s right, kids. The man is apparently in middle school. Listen up, guys (and girls): If you’re gonna break up with someone, don’t pussy out and do it over e-mail (or text message, for that matter). Buck up and do it in person.

  2. Well-played, Miz Lit.

    So, I won’t enter myself into the official contest, but here’s mine:

    David and I had been set up and corresponded via email for a few days before meeting. It was all nice getting-to-know-you sort of stuff and he seemed a bit formal, but whatever. I figured he was just being polite and would hopefully loosen up once we met.

    We did the safe weeknight coffee, which turned out to be the best decision of my life. First of all, I needed caffeine to stay awake because Homes was so boring I wanted to cry. Plus, I had an easy “out” to leave relatively early (have to be up for work, etc).

    The date wasn’t so much a date as an interview for the position of David’s Stepford Wife. He was clearly on the fast-track toward marriage and babies (he was 28 or 29) and brought it up every 2 seconds. Fine, be direct about what you want, but I felt like he was more interested in my uterus than in me. Lots of him telling me what he was looking for in a partner and quizzing me on my views on child rearing and such. Instead of a natural conversational flow, he would say things like, “You mentioned earlier that you enjoy hiking. What other activities do you enjoy in your free time?” and “Tell me a story about something fun you and your friends did.” Uh, OK. Here’s my transcript and letters of rec, too. Weirdo.

    Oh, and did I mention he doesn’t drink alcohol? To 24 year-old CKD, that was a deal-breaker because back then every hour was happy hour. Plus, he didn’t seem thrilled with the fact that most of my stories involved the phrase, “So, this one time my friends and I woke up in this dumpster…”

    It’s pretty clear to me that we have nothing in common and this is not going anywhere. We part ways in the Starbucks parking lot and no plan is made to get together again. Game over, right?

    He calls me up a few days later to say he had fun and wanted to know if I was free that Saturday because he wanted to take me to a wedding so I could meet all of his friends. I actually did have plans, thank God, and said no, but I hoped he had fun. The next day I sent him an email telling him that while he was really nice, I didn’t feel like we were compatible, and maybe it was best if we just went our separate ways.

    You’d think this would be met with relief that I was honest and didn’t waste his time, right? No! He wrote me back that it was really unfair and unrealistic of me to blow him off after one date and went off on me. Basically, a one-page email about how I am horrible. Well, if I’m so damn awful, why did you want to go out with me again, Jackass?

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