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This is a question My Worst Date

I have horrible memories of a blind date where, desperately grabbing something at the last minute, I wore an enormously long scarf so she'd recognise me. I looked like a twat, it was clear she thought so too, and we stood saying nothing for 15 minutes in a pub before running away.

What's your worst date experience?

(, Fri 22 Oct 2004, 9:59)
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Argh, the memories!! =(
I remember in my first year of college, I got my first proper boyfriend. On the start of the second week I was brought to meet his parents.

Parents: "You must be Dan's friend?"
Me: "Boyfriend, actually"
*Awkward silence*
Dan: "I guess now would be the time to tell you I'm gay?"

I left after half an hour of sitting alone in the kitchen whilst they argued in the living-room. Sorry Dan! =(
(, Fri 22 Oct 2004, 22:28, Reply)
Keep it in the family.
Asked a cute girl out, Natalie, when I was 16 and she invited me to a dinner party at her place whilst her parents were out for the evening.

Went round, felt distinctly uncomfortable in front of her sloany mates, and thought it best to drink myself sociable with Pernod and Blackcurrant.

Proceeded to get absolutely shit-faced and, at some point in the late evening when I suddenly got the urge to call God, ran upstairs to her bathroom, sprayed purple vomit absolutely everywhere and collapsed in a heap.

I was just at the point of blacking out in the bathroom when the soothing sound of my girlfriend-to-be starts speaking to me and her gentle, tender hands help me from the floor. I'm in such a state I can't open my eyes. The same hands steady me up the stairs and into the spare room, and then help me get undressed. "Last chance, man," I think so without stopping to focus, turn round and ram my tongue down her throat for a good 10 seconds or so. We break off and I begin to drunkenly suggest we have a play together on the bed. The girl says it's not a good idea but I won't take no for an answer. I squeeze her arse for a bit and have my hand patiently removed. I go for her norks and get in a bit of a squidge before my hands are patiently removed. I give up at this point when I realise that I'm literally seconds away from blacking out, so I lie back and decide to let it take me.

The last thing I see as my eyeballs focus for the last time and my lids begin to droop... is Natalie's gorgeous Mum turning out the lights.

The next day I was greeted with an amazing hangover, a scouring pad and some Jif for the toilet I had to clean, cheeky smiles from her Mum, dagger style glares from her daughter and looks of total pity from the boy she'd spent the night getting off with whilst I was puking. The one-way ticket to singledom was welcomed at this point.
(, Mon 25 Oct 2004, 15:06, Reply)
"I really, REALLY need a shit"
Maybe it was sympathy...

There was this drop dead stunner that I'd been after for ages and she finally agreed to go out with me after weeks of pestering. A few days before we were due to meet at the swankiest bar in town I came down with a chest infection so shot myself down the doc's quick smart in hope of a speedy recovery. If you've ever had a chest infection you'll know that the prescription remedy is Amoxycilin. You'll also know that the side effect of said medicine is the worst case of diahorrea imaginable. I made a point of not eating anything before we met and, since i got there first, grabbed a table within a quick dash of the lavs. Just in case.
She turned up looking stunning and as I stood up to kiss her on the cheek I felt some worrying rumblings down below. Not wanting to start the date with "Excuse me a sec, I just need to pop to the loo". I ignore it as best I can and nip to the bar to get her a drink. The rumblings had turned into cramps by now and it must have been affecting my walk. I do the "I really need the toilet" walk back to the table and sit down. We get chatting and, aside from my liquefied guts trying to explode out of my ass, the date's going pretty well. Then the most painful cramps in the world hit my stomach and double me over at the table. She asks if I'm okay and all I can manage is a red-faced "NNNNGHHHH!!!" as I battle against the date ending in a trouser-full of brown slop. The pain's unbearable, I can barely move. She asks if I need help and I muster all my strength, haul myself to my feet and proclaim "I'm fine. I just really, REALLY need a shit" and bolt for the lavs. I return red-faced a while later and she's there giggling. I've never been so embarrassed in my life but she turns my world by saying it's the funniest date she's ever been on.

Two years later and she's still Mrs. Jimlad. :o)
(, Fri 22 Oct 2004, 13:47, Reply)
Worst date of them all...

September 11th - 2001
----------------------------

I don't think I will ever forget this day.

I stared at my television, not allowing myself to believe what I was seeing...

So much needless pain. So much wrong.

So many innocent people suffering at the hands of one mans deluded vision.

Yes, this was the day that I sat and watched a tape of Johnny Vaughn's sitcom, "'Orrible".

Sweet Baby Christ why?
(, Sun 24 Oct 2004, 19:15, Reply)
Nice question. Brings back a host of *wonderful* memories...
Indeedy. And apologies for length.

So, anyways; it's my first year of uni, and there's this fan-fucking-tastic lookin' lady who I've been wanting all year but never quite had the balls to say anything too. And it's about 3 weeks til the end of term, and lo and behold, she's stood next to me at the bar. So, it's now or never- so I put my neck out- and it's fantastic. We're chatting for ages, getting on really well and I'm thinkin' things are gonna go somewhere. Anyways, towards the end of the night, I make my move- and am shot down hideously, in that most contrived, painful, "You're a really nice guy, but I just want to be friends- you're just not my type!" way (which, by the way ladies, is infinitely worse than a slap and a drink in the face). So, I stagger off home, very annoyed indeed. So annoyed, in fact, that upon waking the next morning, I start drinking again to drown my sorrows. And continue to drink all day...

So I'm sat in the bar, It's about 9.30pm now, and I've drunk a ludicrous amount, but am still coherent enough, and pretty much in control- because when I'm miserable I find it very hard indeed to get pissed.
And lo and behold, just outside the bar is my lady friend- and it appears she's being bothered by a cadre of 4 or 5 local chavvy twats. And being miserable, I am most definitely up for some ass- kickin. So I go outside, puff my chest out and tell them to fuck off. And all would have been well, except there wasn't just the 4 of them- there was another 5 round the corner. And while I held my own pretty damn well and eventually beat some sense into them, I am by no means left unscathed- particularly as, as we all know, the chav's attack of choice is a well placed foot in the nads. So I'm feeling somewhat vulnerable in my particulars, when alls of a sudden she grabs a handfull of nads, and before I have a chance to scream "DEAR FUCKING CHRIST, WOMAN!!!" she pulls me in close and whispers in my ear "I've changed my mind" and starts humping my leg. All of a sudden, I'm not feeling quite so achy anymore, so we head off to hers. On the way back, however, it becomes apparent that she's somewhat worse for wear, and she asks if we can take a seat at the bus stop. So we sit down, and start necking ferociously. And my god, I'm so damned happy I can almost ignore the immense pain in my nuts.

I know what your thinking. So far, it really hasn't been all that bad. This is true. Unfortunately, this is where it goes somewhat downhill.

She spews into my mouth. Well, I say, "in my mouth", but it more kinda exploded outwards all over both of our faces. And we pull back, and as soon as my nose registers the puke, I vomit all over her glorious cleavage. So, things aren't going great at this point. I decide that it's probably best to call it a night, and it's time to walk her home. But she can't quite get up, so I'm trying to pick her up, but both of us are slippery as hell what with all the spew, and it's prooving somewhat difficult. So I'm stood there trying to wrestle her to her feet, she's groaning and grunting, and who should turn up but her flatmates. To be honest, this bit's all a little hazy, but to cut a long story short, they take her home, and I stagger back to my place.

Wake up the next day, my head is in agony, my favourite shirt is still soaked through with vomit, and worstest of all, my nuts are the size of coconuts. So, being a logical kind of chap, I stay in bed for three days til the swelling has gone down a tad before I venture back out into the real world, and when I eventually do, I notice a lot of dodgy looks coming in my direction. Turns out, that "APPARENTLY", on the night in question, I had got ludicrously drunk, started a fight, thrown up several times on a girl who had almost passed out, and was then found trying to manhandle her onto a bus!!

When I spoke to her, she told me that she knew this wasn't the case, but was too embarrassed to tell anyone, so she let them go on believing I was some creep intent on abducting her.

My reputation has to this day barely recovered. Incidentally, I did eventually forgive her, but on our second date I broke her ankle, so I kinda figured it wasn't to be.

edit: Oh wait, no, it was a friend. Honest.
(, Sat 23 Oct 2004, 0:55, Reply)
Gaylord Fokker
Back in the day when I was a young, free, single, pisshead I pulled this girl in my local and ended up going back to hers. Much alcohol had been imbibed so we got down to it right there on her front room floor. Clothes scattered everywhere, sweaty, drunken monkey-sex. Fantastic. Rather than face a cold walk home ('Twas January) I gratefully accept her offer to stay the night and off to bed we go.
We wake the next afternoon somewhat fuzzy headed and bollock naked in her bed. She starts pestering me to go downstairs to feed the cats, get the milk in and make a cup of tea (this was a sign of things to come, read on...). I protest saying that it's freezing cold, I'm stark naked and my clothes are all downstairs on her front room floor. Eventually, with the promise of more hanky panky on my return, she persuades me to trek downstairs. To cover my nakedness I grab the only item of clothing I can see - a black dress. She started smirking when I put it on but I didn't care. The sight of a six-foot guy with a shaved head in a little black dress may be funny but I was getting some when I got back.
Anyway, I find the kitchen and feed the cats and walk off to the front door to get the milk, stopping only to put my boots on on the way (it was January and my feet were freezing). I open the door and bend down for the milk when I hear something behind me. I turn around just in time to see my new lover running towards me with a grin on her face and have just enough time to register that she has cum in her hair from last night before she shoves me full force onto the icy pavement and shuts the door. It's freezing cold, I'm wearing a dress and my boots and hammering on the door to be let in and I can hear her giggling behind the door like it's the funniest joke ever. This went on for about 5 minutes before a car pulled up and I suddenly remember her saying last night that she had to be up in time to cook dinner because her parents were coming round. I stop hammering and tell her her folks are here but she thinks it's a ruse. Until she hears her dad, suddenly confronted by a cross-dressing skinhead kicking his daughter's door down, bellow "what the hell are you doing?". The door flies open and I get introduced to what would become my girlfriend's mum and dad while I'm wearing a dress and combat boots. I thought it couldn't get any worse till her mum breezed passed me and said "Rhian, is that semen in your hair?"

Amazingly we lasted a year but her parents did call me Gaylord for the entire duration in reference to Ben Stiller's character in 'Meet The Parents'. Then this happened....
www.b3ta.com/questions/revenge/post9623
(, Fri 22 Oct 2004, 13:14, Reply)
A Spanking Good Time?
I met an American girl in a bar and we exchanged numbers, all very prim and proper. We spoke on the phone a couple of times until late one night the conversation started getting a bit steamy and she jumped in a cab to come over to my place.
However, very shortly afetr she arrived I realised I had let myself in for more than I had originally bargained. She'd brought a massive sports bag with her. At first I thought she was trying to move in, but then she opened the bag and began to arrange its contents on the table in my bedroom... I have never seen such a nasty collection of whips, paddles, old slippers and shoes, plus the usual "toys". I was really scared; she wanted me to pretend to be her older brother's best friend and "punish" her for being a "bad little girl". I intimated that there must have been some kind of misunderstanding and that I didn't have it in me to do that, but she was insulted by this and got really aggressive. She said that she wouldn't have come half way across London in a cab if she knew she wasn't going to get a beating! In the process of delivering this rant, she pulled her skirt up and her underwear down to prove she was for real - to reveal thighs and a backside almost mutilated from serial S&M torture. She pointed to the worst scar and said "I even paid for that one honey!".
Anyway, to cut a long story short (if it isn't already too late to do that), I managed to calm her down, helped her pack away her mobile dungeon and arranged a cab to come and pick her up. That was 6 years ago but the memory of it still makes me shudder. Seems that the throw-away remark she made in the preceding phonecall - "are you gonna spank me" - wasn't throw-away at all. Sorry for long (first) post.
(, Fri 22 Oct 2004, 12:55, Reply)
never to forget my friend
who made a date with a girl we knew from school. he decided to meet her in our local pub. now my friend is pretty shy so she was standing there alone looking around while he is hiding behind the fruit machines. he plucks up the courage to go and meet his own date and then i had one of the best laughs of my life.
i don't want to embarass her but her name was Rachael Thompson...
anyway he approched, she smiled, then he put his hand in her drink got an icecube and threw it on the floor, saying well that broke the ice. Funny. Then she demanded another drink. He tried to take drink off her pouring it over her chest in the process. Never one to cut his losses he decided to dry her using his hands to wipe her, sexually harassing her it seemed to the pub. Next my friend goes for a napkin on the table, drops it, picks it up and as he rises headbutts the poor girl in the chin knocking her back onto a table of drinks. Completely drenched she turns over to reveal a nice shard of glass in her back. Obviously needing medical attention she says to her moronic date, "ben can you take me to the hospital please", "after me beer" i think was his reply...
They are getting married next year!!
(, Fri 22 Oct 2004, 10:24, Reply)
and for the short of attention span ...
worst opening line of a date ever:
"Sorry I'm late ... I just fucked my ex-boyfriend ... do you mind if we give tonight a miss?"
(, Fri 22 Oct 2004, 12:24, Reply)
At the age of about 30
I had this girl round to my place.
Started cooking her dinner, sat down on sofa with a drink and a chat for a bit, went back to kitchen to check on cooking. Took the opportunity to fart while out of of ear and nose shot. Followed through. Big time. Dropped trouwsis so I could whip off soiled boxers. At this moment she skips through the door saying "mmm smells lovely! what is it?" to see me with poo filled dung hampers and trouwsis round my ankles.
Still shagged her though...
(, Tue 26 Oct 2004, 13:34, Reply)
Bad dates
The worst date ever has to be the one that killed Indiana Jones' mate's monkey. Bastard.
(, Wed 27 Oct 2004, 17:38, Reply)
Worst date EVAH. (Long)
Jennifer (name changed) was a cute, elfin 16-year-old whom I'd been admiring at school for a while. I was 17 and horny, and had the use of my dad's Mini. So I asked her out on a date, and to my delight, she agreed. I secured the use of the car, and drove her to the local city. We went to the cinema, then for a couple of drinks, then I took her to my friends' house (to show her off). It seemed to be going OK, and we were getting on fine, but the couple of times I tried to take her hand, she withdrew it.

In the car on the way home she started rambling about stuff that didn't make too much sense, and then told me she could "help me with my problem". I asked her what she meant, but she didn't give me a straight answer.

Then I hit a cyclist.

It was dark and pouring with rain, and the cyclist had been coming round a roundabout with no lights. Luckily I had stopped before entering the roundabout, so I was only doing about three miles per hour when I hit her, but still she rolled spectacularly up the bonnet onto the windscreen, then back off again onto the ground. I jumped out of the car and the cyclist's friend ran up to me, smacking me round the head and calling me a "fucking bastard". I ignored this and helped the cyclist up. I offered to take her to hospital but she declined. The bike seemed to be OK. I gave her my number, apologising profusely. The whole time Jennifer was sitting there in the passenger seat with big bug eyes.

We set off for home again, but after a couple of minutes I was hit by delayed shock. I apologised to Jennifer and pulled over into a pub car park, whereupon I burst into tears. She put her arm round me (the only physical contact I ever got from her). Unfortunately, this was at kicking-out time, and a huge group of chavs came out of the pub, saw us in the Mini, and braying with laughter proceeded to pick it up by the wheel arches and bounce it around the car park.

My tears now turned to fear and anger, so I turned the engine and lights back on and revved the engine furiously, and eventually they let go, and we carried on back to her place. I dropped her off with nary a peck on the cheek.

She declared her lesbianism a couple of days later.

A few weeks after that she got off with a (male) mate of mine at a party. It was his loss, though: even though they didn't shag, she turned up a few days later at his parents' house at 3am, in bare feet, to tell him she was bearing his child. She started going through a genuine phantom pregnancy, and then disappeared. She was eventually picked up by the cops walking barefoot down the fast lane of the motorway, on her way to London to tell the government what she thought of them. She was sectioned.

I ended up having to pay for the repair for a dent in the bonnet of the Mini, buy the cyclist a new bike, compensate her for days off work, a taxi to the hospital, and a medical bill for a bruised finger.

I try to suppress the thought that it was the trauma of our date that pushed Jennifer over the edge, but it does occasionally haunt me. And I never got any.

Edited to add: on further recollection, I think I may have further compounded her mental problems when, after she refused to see me, I recorded myself singing a seriously awful David Brent style lovelorn adolescent song I had written ("I never should have touched you/'Coz you have the Midas touch"), and posting the tape through her letterbox. Oh the shame.
(, Mon 25 Oct 2004, 11:52, Reply)
Well The Date Was Fine...
I met a gorgeous girl in a bar in London, we agreed to go out for dinner a few days later.
Everything went extremely well, we had a slap up meal, we walked romantically through London on a warm summers night. We went to a good nightclub, we got drunk, we danced, she thought i was a God. Then we went back to hers and had amazing sex for a a few hours.
I went home in the morning and had no plans on seeing my second night stand again - i had my great shag - job done. She never had my number so things went on for me as normal.
Not a bad date story you say.... Correct
But 15 months later i got a call from the C.S.A telling me how much money i owe my new daughter ...
(, Sun 24 Oct 2004, 18:44, Reply)
I had been going out with this girl for a few weeks
but i decided it was time to end it. I texted her and asked if she would meet me on a bridge in an isolated part of the countryside. When I broke the news, she started crying, so I beat her brains out with a rock and fucked her corpse.

apologies for length
(, Wed 27 Oct 2004, 1:27, Reply)
weight watcher
second date going quite well, had a few glasses of wine, nice meal, watched the beach, candles lit mmm lovely.... so he says lie down ill give you a massage mmmm sounds good,... so i llie down top off he goes to get some oil, he comes back and says oh ill just put this dvd on ok whatever just massage me im happy i say....so he begins the dvd begins and oh my fu**in' god its hardcore porn, so i'm still thinking well this massage is pretty hot i can handle this, his hands are working his way down from my shoulders to my lower back and then down to the sides wooah.... i'm liking this.....then he grabs two rolls of fat on each of my sides and goes "you could do with getting rid of this" ( i'm 5 foot 2 and 9 stone , so in no way podgy and up he gets , he goes into a cupboard and pulls out an AB TRIMMER !!!!! i kid you not!!!!!!
me i"m in such shock and a bit tipsy that i go with the flow and learn how to use an ab trimmer whilst he sits on the couch watching hardcore porn!!!!!! thank goodness a freind phoned me during this and told me to leave. I did and i took the ab trimmer with me which i later sold at a car boot sale for a fiver!!
(, Wed 27 Oct 2004, 17:53, Reply)
not exactley a date
but i met a lovely Belgian girl on the way back from Munich on a coach once. We chatted away for a few minutes, exchanging passport pictures and laughing at our poses, when all of a sudden she "excuses" herself and heads off to the coach toilet.

She's in there a good 20 mins. When eventually she does emerge she explain that there was a problem with the toilet, and shes REALLY embarressed about it.

Being the bold English man I agree to take a look at the problem, step into the toilet to be confronted by the lid up and the most go awful pile of runny shit, hard shit, hairy shit and to top it all off, a bloody tampon on top. jesus christ. Turns out the word she was struggling to translate for me was "FLUSH".

I located the flusher, gave it a good 3 or 4 goes and eventually cleared her rather impressive defication.

I returned to the most apologetic girl I have ever met, she seemed quite impressed that I still wanted to talk to her after that.

Shes now "MRS" Claypole, and we've got a little "Claypole" arriving in Feb, so I guess the "dealing with turds" is going to come in handy

sorry for length
(, Wed 27 Oct 2004, 13:32, Reply)
Interview With A Vampire
I went to see Interview With a Vampire with a girlfriend. We were 16, it was an 18 cert movie - I thought I was the mutts nuts. Started violently snogging about 30 mins into the film (as you do). About 20 mins into the snog I noticed that my face was getting very warm. I pulled away from her to find that I'd been having a nosebleed, there was blood all over my face...and hers. This being an old cinema, we both had to walk to the toilets at the back of the theatre, smeared with blood, whilst Interview With a Vampire was on. Surprisingly, she didn't dump me but it was all a tad embarrassing.
(, Fri 22 Oct 2004, 10:21, Reply)
I think I'm turning Japanese
Oh God, where do I start? Ok first one was while I was working in London. Went out with a work colleague after work for a few beers and a couple of games of pool. Being around the St James area there were usually some pretty good looking women out doing the same thing most nights. We never really managed to talk to any of them though as we were mainly concerned with drinking as much as we could. Until this one night when three Japanese girls asks if they could play pool with us. To cut a long story short, many drinks later and sitting in some bar of Leicester Square one of the girls leans over and starts kissing me. Great! We seem to be getting on well and she agrees to come back to my place ‘for coffee’. All is going well at this point, - very well. The taxi ride back involves more kissing and the promise of better things to come. We get back to my flat, head straight for the bedroom and get straight down to it. At this point things start going bad….very bad. My flatmate nosily bangs open the front door with a couple of mates, all of which are swearing very loudly in that way that blokes do when they’ve had a skilful. Cue Japanese girl looking a bit worried and asking ‘Who’s that?’ ‘Don’t worry’ I say, ‘It sounds like my flatmate. I’ll go and tell them to shut up’ Now, the light comes on and in my semi-undressed state, the Japanese girl sees the tattoo I have on my back/shoulder. More shouting from outside my room and in the space of 5 seconds she has convinced herself that this was all planned and we’re going to gang rape her. I’m standing there thinking WTF!?!, while she climbs out of bed and opens my window ‘I’ll jump!’ she screams. I lived on the third floor. Now, being confused with some sort of Yakuza rapist isn’t something that has happened to me before – I panicked. However, I’m sure you’ll all agree with me that the solution to me predicament was one of magnificent genius. I went into the kitchen, found the biggest sharpest knife I could find, went back into the bedroom and said ‘Here, have this. If anyone tries anything you can stab them!’ I can still picture the scene now, her almost half way out of a third story window, in her underwear, with those scared stiff, rabbit in headlights eyes staring back at me and holding an 8 inch carving knife. ‘OK!’ she says, hops off the windows, smiles and says ‘Come on, let’s go back to bed!’ That night I slept with a Japanese girl in my arms while she held the knife in her hand, on my chest. Weird thing was though we went out with each other for six months. Until she told me she was married to a pilot in the airforce. Shame really as she was pretty good fun.

Sorry for length etc etc
(, Mon 25 Oct 2004, 14:47, Reply)
Hijinks with a whore
My worst date ever was last night. This is going to be quite long, for which I apologise in advance.

Last week I was fortunate enough to swap mobile numbers with a very attractive young lady in a night club. Unfortunately it turned out that she's just started on 'the game', although to her credit she was surprisingly up front about it (no, it wasn't one of those sort of 'night clubs', I know what you're thinking).

She was absolutely stunning and I've been single for ages, so I thought to myself, "It's OK, I'll try and persuade her to stop doing it, and if she won't then forget it. She says she's only just started out and it's only 2 nights a week, so she's probably only had 3 or 4 clients". Big mistake.

She texted me yesterday saying to come and pick her up from work at 10:00, and then we'd go out and hit town. Sat in the car outside the brothel for what seemed like ages but she didn't come out, and her mobile was switched off, so I eventually plucked up the courage to go and knock on the door. I asked if she was there, and the guy said "No, she's busy with a client at the moment. Come in and wait, if you want".

Sat at the bar waiting, and she came down after 10 minutes with a fat man in his 50s. She explained to me that she was the only one working that night so she had to stay later, and went straight back upstairs with the next client. I sat at the bar like an idiot until half past sodding midnight, paying £5 a time for a glass of coke, watching her going upstairs with a steady stream of customers, most of whom looked like social misfits of some sort. Some of them were even trying to get it on while they were still downstairs in the bar.

Eventually I had a reality check and realised that being single is probably better than going out with a prostitute, and I left. Just glad I never kissed her on the lips (either pair).
(, Fri 22 Oct 2004, 12:50, Reply)
Dates? Bad ones? I've had plenty
However, I'll never forget the time I'd let my mate set me up with someone. He was doing me a favour, and I was pretty much desperate.

The night was set, he'd arranged everything. We were going to a classy little restaurant in Leeds, the whole suit and tie shebang. I arrived, and was taken to my table by the waiter. He assured me my date was just in the toilet and so I sat with eager anticipation.

A couple of minutes passed, and seeing a couple of women come out the loo that were pretty foxy, and a few that were dog ugly, I was wondering where the hell this woman was.

I got a tap on the shoulder. "Excuse me, are you Luke?" I was asked. "Yes, I am" I replied, "Hi, my name is Andy, I'm your date."

Ho ho, what a funny guy my friend is, setting me up with a man - and how he laughed at me for weeks after. Bastard.
(, Fri 22 Oct 2004, 12:47, Reply)
Ouch
Had a horrible great stone in - I broke my tooth!
(, Fri 22 Oct 2004, 10:37, Reply)
Trumpet
Actually, now that I remember... not quite worst date, but definitely one of worst 'morning afters'.

Went out, got on well, got drunk, back to my place, sweet love making until the early hours, best night's sleep I'd had in ages lying in her arms.

Next morning she has to get up early to go to lectures so she's up and getting dressed whilst I'm still asleep. I'm lying on my side with my bare arse hanging out of the bed when nature decides I have to pass wind.

And what a passing it was. Must have been the way I was lying. The fart went off like a gunshot, woke me up instantly and I leaped up onto one elbow, turned around to her and said "What?"

Oh how we laughed... about 5 years later by long-distance phone call.
(, Mon 25 Oct 2004, 16:08, Reply)
A fairly standard date
right up to the point where i went to kiss her, sneezed, and snotted large, arcing chains of greasy mucus down her cheek, ear, hair and into the furry collar of her jacket.

The sight of a woman sodden in someone else's phlegm was too much and i threw up at her feet. Persumably splashing her shoes but i dont know because i was too busy drunkenly running away.

Anyway, she declared herself a lesbian the following month.
(, Sun 24 Oct 2004, 16:56, Reply)
Meat is Murder
Many years ago, I was trying to impress a girl who I’d only had drinks with before, but really liked. So I invited her out to dinner, being flash I took her to my favourite restaurant ‘Rules’ in Covent Garden, the game restaurant, all things shot, hooked, stabbed & strangled.

She went a bit quiet as we walked in; I thought it was the very nice surroundings. (She was a bit of a ‘Harvester’ type girl). They brought the menus, still silence.
The waiter came and she asked me to order first. Thinking she was overawed by the menu without prawn cocktail, steak & Black Forest Gateaux. I said I’d have the sautéed pate de fois gras followed by the wild Roe Deer, rare.

She then screamed at me “I’m a vegetarian, you bastard, you can’t eat Bambi!”
Before running out into the night.
Judging that there could be no future between us without Bacon Sandwiches I stayed where I was. The waiter discreetly removed the 2nd place setting and I had a lovely meal.
(, Sat 23 Oct 2004, 22:19, Reply)
February 29th 2004
is a pretty awful date. I mean, if you get born then you don't get a birthday until you're four years old.
(, Fri 22 Oct 2004, 23:05, Reply)
Not as bad as some of yours...
Last Hallowe'en, I dated a short girl with rather large norks. We went to a Hallowe'en party, and she began to drink. Well, about an hour later, she managed to drop an iced cupcake onto her chest, leaving a large splotch of orange-&-white icing there on her right breast. She didn't notice, and I didn't want to point it out, since we had just met a few days before, and didn't want her to think I was making a pass at her.

Well, a little while later, she had vanished on me, but when she came back, her icing was smeared, and I noticed three other guys (all in black Hallowe'en costumes) with icing smeared on them - right about where it should be had my date embraced them with icing all over herself.

And one with icing smears down around his left thigh.
(, Fri 22 Oct 2004, 21:13, Reply)
A night to remember
My worst date would have to be with a guy named George, who I had originally met several years before, and he seemed reasonably nice back then, so when I ran into him one day and he asked me out, I agreed. Our evening commenced with George turning up at the pub where we had arranged to meet quite obviously already drunk. The bartender took one look at him and said that she wasn't going to serve him, because he was too smashed. I should have just cut my losses at that point and excused myself to "go powder my nose" or something, never to return, but stupidly I stayed with him.

I had also noticed that George had a crusty smear of toothpaste caked onto the side of his mouth, and told him, and he tried to rub it off. "Is it gone? No. Is it gone now? No. Is that OK? No." It just stayed, and I couldn't help but stare at it. The smell of it mixed with the beer on his breath started to make me nauseous.

We went from the pub to a nearby Thai restaurant to get something to eat, and to sober George up. We ordered the food and had the fragmented sort of conversation that takes place between an extremely drunk person and a totally sober one.

The food finally arrived, and as soon as it was placed in front of me, I was hit with a wave - no, a tsunami - of nausea. I just couldn't face eating a mouthful. It was then that the stabbing abdominal pain started. I told George I wasn't feeling well and had to go. I fished his wallet out of his jacket and paid for the uneaten meal, and I don't even think he noticed. Then I left him sitting there, and hailed a taxi home.

Before the taxi arrived at my house, the pains got worse. They got so bad that the only thing I could think of was "Hospital. Must go to hospital." So I told the cab to take me to casualty instead. I got to the hospital, and upon examination was told that my appendix had ruptured and I needed to be operated on NOW. So they pumped my stomach, which was via a tube up my nose and down my throat, and the tube was completely clear, so I could see everything squelching along on its way out, which made me feel even sicker. Then I underwent the surgery.

When I came to the next day, I got a phone call from my mother, saying that George had been calling her place which he looked up in the directory because he had lost my number, wondering what had happened to me, and did I want her to give him my number. Thankfully she didn't.

Flash ahead several years. I was walking with my current boyfriend around an area in the west end of the city that I normally don't frequent. My BF says, "hey look at that poor homeless guy over there, boy, does he ever look rough." I looked over, then quickly grabbed my boyfriend and dragged him down a side street. The "homeless guy" turned out to be my dearest George.
(, Mon 25 Oct 2004, 21:49, Reply)
Worst Date Ever
The worst date I ever went on was really depressing. I waited and waited for this girl to turn up and she never did. It was awful, because I really thought we had something special

I rang her later and she denied that I'd ever asked her out. Turns out I'd dreamt it! Disappointing that I'd dreamt a lot of other stuff too, although in retrospect I did wonder where my flabby beer belly had gone.
(, Sun 24 Oct 2004, 20:20, Reply)
Oh, that kind of 'date'...
Went to a party at a flat in Milton Keynes in my yoof, and as luck would have it, pretty much everyone got paired off – except the fat ugly mate who never pulled.
However, after a while he did pull and was frolicking behind the sofa with said female and all that could be heard was incessant squeals and giggling from the girl.
After the party, us lads were making our way home and our fat ugly mate tells of his encounter. He proudly announces the girl’s delight was due to his "fingering explorations" within her knickers. We were all suitably impressed as none of us had got more than a kiss and a grope and just to prove his point, he offers his finger for everyone to sniff.

Which we did...

...and it smelled of poo.

He never lived that one down and I guess it kinda qualifies for worst 'date'.
(, Sat 23 Oct 2004, 2:59, Reply)
All my own fault
After talking to a woman from another office in our building a few times I arranged to meet her on the Saturday at the bar that is on the ground floor of our building.
However after going and getting completely ratted on the Friday I was in a lary mood all day on the Saturday, and ignored my mates advice to cancel and arrange another time.
I got there on time, and after twenty minutes when my date turned up, the first words out of my mouth were "Have troubles finding the place."
Anyway we got a drink and a seat and were getting on OK, so I went to get more drinks, and I look at the woman next to me at the bar, only to find it was my ex-wife's matron of honour, Louise. Unable to help myself I said, "What the fuck are you doing in Manchester (comes from Leicester), I didn't realise they'd relaxed quarentine rules." After a torrent of abuse i went and sat back down.
A couple of minutes later Louise came over and carried on. Eventually she blurts out, "You didn't think I was in quarentine when you were fucking me did you?". "I don't know, I was drunk."
At this point she went to launch her drink all over me, but being a typical women couldn't aim for shit and soaked my date instead.
I did what any reasonable person would at this point, and burst out laughing.
Needless to say my date went home, and avoids me whenever possible now.
(, Sat 23 Oct 2004, 23:41, Reply)

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