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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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More drunk than sense.
This isn't technically a date, but it's probably the most humiliating romantic experience I've ever had besides my other post (Twelve other people).

Every Saturday me and my mates used to go to Camden Town and hang out. Now, I had this mate there, let's call him Jim. I'm of the bisexual variety for those not in the know. Anyway, me and Jim were a flirtatious pair of eggs. We'd kissed a few times and stuff. But I think we both knew it would go no further.

Anyway, one week he brings along this lass - let's call her Michaela. Me and Michaela flirted outrageously and kissed\felt up one another a lot. But so did her and Jim. It was full-blooded competition as to who could pull who - one of us was going to get left out in any case. Anyway, at the end of Week 1 I was far and away ahead.

Week 2 rolls around. Me and Jim meet again, and he's got no interest in me. Bollocks. I gravitate to Michaela instead, and drink heavily. "You must kiss me for I am lovely!" I proclaimed (says my mate). "I'll kiss you," says Michaela "If you'll eat that ant." This was when all the flying ants were about. I shrugged. I put the ant in my mouth, bit it, and swallowed.

Twelve ants later and I was still waiting for my kiss.

Anyway, a mate of mine is offering me a drink so I go to him and take it. Michaela runs off to Jim, nicks a cigarette, lights it. Pins him and starts making out with him. I feel sick when I see him visibly aroused with who I drunkenly thought of as my woman, so I go up to him and ask where the fuck the toilets are around here. He doesn't answer, as he has a mouthful of her tongue. Nobody else I know is about and these two won't stop making out. I insist, I need to find a toilet and I have no idea where one is. Michaela stretches her arms off to get off of Jim, presumably to help me.

The hand she had the lit cigarette in ends up in my eye, which is, fortunately, closed.

I had a scar for about three weeks. It hurt to blink, but it hurt even more to explain.
(, Tue 26 Oct 2004, 13:55, Reply)

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