It's probably...
the time when my date insisted on bringing her crayons and colouring book, and threw a tantrum when she didn't like the toy she'd got in her Happy Meal.
(RabidRodent I'm the person your mother warned you about, Sun 20 Oct 2013, 23:55, 9 replies)

a movie disaster
I had arranged to go to the cinema for my first ever date at the tender age of 14. I met her as planned outside Sweet Centres in the Trocadero in London, and we proceeded upstairs to the cinema.

My 1st mistake was buying popcorn - I realise this as I unattractively munched my way through my first mouthful: letting your date hear you chewing loudly is not a good start.

My second, 2-hour long mistake was my choice of film: Alive. You know, the one where the rugby team crash in the Andes and resort to cannibalism to stay alive. I really wanted to see it, but now know that kind of film doesn't go down well on a first (ever) date. My poor movie choice began to dawn on me after 20-minutes during the very realistic and horrifying plane crash scene - think people being sucked out of the falling plane screaming and crying. I sank further into my chair as the story continued: I knew I was never going to get a snog when the man on the screen stands over a frozen corpse wielding a penknife and delivers the romantic line:

'I'll start by eating his buttocks.'

When it finally ended, I took her to KFC - a class act all round. Needless to say, our relationship didn't last but I get a great 1st date story which I still tell to this day.

EPILOGUE
Fast-forward 20-years and I by chance bump into my (now happily married) 1st date at a station. We get a drink and chat - turns out she's been getting mileage out of that story for the last 20 years too :)
(daytripper, Sun 20 Oct 2013, 23:12, 1 reply)

well....
... In my days of singleness afer my divorce I had a date . We met at her house as she thought I was 'up for it'.
All went well, dinner and then sexy fun times after. All was well, her daughter was away at her ex-husband's place, we made absolute pigs of ourselves as only middle-aged people with drink and drugs can*.
I was getting myself a mid-second-shag drink from the fridge, stark naked and fully tumescent when the front door opened. I hid behind the kitchen door as her daughter came in (she'd had an argument with her dad and come home in a taxi at 3 a:m) and ran crying to her mum.
There I was, in the kitchen, ready for yet another bout of very VERY rude sex, listening to the object of my 'affections' placating her distraught daughter - 'yes, he's a dick, yes it's OK you've come back, no there isn't anyone here' etc etc.
Once the daughter had gone to bed a loooong time later the object of my lust came downstairs with my clothes.
'You'll have to leave, don't make a noise'
'OK, I'll go but how the hell do I get my car away silently'?
'You'll have to push it far enough away so she doesn't hear you drive away'.
I got dressed and left. It's not easy to push an automatic Volvo. I did it though.
Never did get the second shag.

*Viagra and cocaine make a great combination.
(Captain Placid 24/7 ball gags, brownie mix and clown porn, Sun 20 Oct 2013, 22:59, 3 replies)

It wasn't so bad really, but
I bought two tickets to see the first US tour of the National Ballet of China. [CPI adjusted = $120 ea.] My blind date took some drugs that reached full strength in the lobby and I drove her to the hospital.

I waited while doctors treated her. At 8pm, curtain time, watching the hospital television, Bill Cosby started his show with his goofy dance. I saw some dancing after all! Of course I waited and drove her home. I knew that I was going to have a story to drop on B3TA 30 years later. My apologies to all women for their needing drugs to tolerate my proximity.
( tromboner cherophobia is my kind of fun, Sun 20 Oct 2013, 21:19, 2 replies)

I thought she was great
We met as part of an activist organisation and things went great at first. I showed her how spiritual I could be, and I thought we were going to live happily ever after.

But then she decided that she preferred one of our activist colleagues, who was frankly a scruffy criminal. And she turned out to be my sister.
(Eukanuba, Sun 20 Oct 2013, 21:09, 2 replies)

Dawn
You've all heard of Torchwood, right? Well, I was employed by them for a while several years ago, as a consultant on temporal anomalies. Pay was crap but the sex was fantastic. One night I was out on the lash in Cardiff with the team and I ended up in this cheesy nightclub with Captain Jack. We were the only ones standing as our metabolisms were able to cope with the vast amounts of alcohol we had sunk, everyone else had given up and gone home. So Jack and I were in this club, it was an 80s retro night, and it was packed with pissed, pilled, sweaty humans. Jack and I surveyed the masses like farmers assessing pigs for slaughter. One female in particular caught our attention: an obese, ugly munter dressed in dayglo pink several sizes too small. All the other totty in the place was stunning, so her hideousness stood out all the more. She was drinking and dancing and partying with the utmost unselfconscious abandon. Despite her grossness, we began to admire her. Good for her, we thought! Then Jack began to arse about, saying, ‘would you’, etc. We began to wind each other up mercilessly and it escalated into a bet. We tossed, and when we got back from the toilets, tossed a coin, the bet being: heads, Jack takes the moose back to the Hub and fucks her; tails, I take her for a journey in my TARDIS (it was working back then).

I lost.

So I approached this beast, Jack’s derisive laughter echoing in my ears, and introduced myself.

‘Hello. My name is Doctor Skagra.’

The creature squinted up at me with suspicion. Facially, she somewhat bizarrely reminded me of Peter Gilmore out of The Onedin Line crossed with Millie Tant out of Viz. ‘Hullo! My name’s Dawn’, she bellowed.

I grinned, hoping that I looked terrifying. ‘Would you like to come for a trip in my time machine?’

Dawn’s eyes bulged and fizzed like frying eggs. ‘Coo! It’s a date!’

And so I led her by the (warm, slightly sweaty hand) out of the club, trying to ignore Captain Jack Harkness who was by now writhing on the floor foming at the mouth with larffter. The cunt.
As I led her through the night-time streets of Cardiff, she produced a Pork Pie from her handbag and set to it with grotesque gusto.

We reached my TARDIS which was disguised as a dustbin outside Burger King, and entered. I had to adjust the dimensional relativiser so that Dawn’s leviathan bulk could pass through. As she clocked the incongruously massive interior, she gaped in wonder, almost dropping her Pork Pie, bits of processed meat and pastry falling from her maw to the floor where Tidge and Tadge, my tame Cybermats, cleaned it up.

‘Fuck me!’ she gasped.

No chance of that, I muttered to myself as I set the controls to random, not caring where and when we went on this ‘date’.

I watched as she trundled around my console room (which was a nice blue/white ‘aqua’ colour scheme), firing off moronic questions like ‘how much this cost you?’, ‘what’s that going-up-and-downy thing?’ and ‘where’s the bog?’

Fortunately, the journey proved to be short as my TARDIS locked on to co-ordinates and began to materialised. I didn’t recognise the co-ordinates – in retrospect, I should have done a quick scan before going out, but I just wanted this over as soon as. ‘We’ve landed,’ I told her.

Somehow, Dawn managed to speak between big bites of her enormous Pork Pie. ‘Munch! Munch! Oooh! Munch! Where?’

‘Let’s see.’ I activated the scanner.

Dawn was still intent on the remains of her pie, and I shuddered as I watched her lick greasy flakes of pastry from her chubby fingers.

I returned my gaze to the scanner, and my hearts sank. ‘Oh, no,’ I muttered to myself. ‘Have I got time for a quick spatio-temporal hop?’ But a quick check of the power gauges answered that. My TARDIS needed at least an hour to recharge its Artron energy before it went anywhere, or anywhen, else.

Dawn, having finished devouring her pie - and already presumably thinking about where the next one was coming from - picked up on my subdued mood. She lumbered around the console, rudely shoving me away from the scanner. ‘Hoy! Where are we then, mush?’ she grunted.

I rubbed my arm where Dawn’s considerable bulk had hit me. ‘Somewhere tasty.’

Dawn had now seen the view on the scanner screen. Her jaw gaped, and thick strands of saliva dribbled from her pendulous lip, pooling thickly on the console. ‘Wuuuuuuuuuuuuugh!’ she groaned in ecstasy. ‘Wuuugh! Waaagh! OOOOOORGH!’

The screen showed a rolling landscape of hills and valleys composed entirely of glazed pastry. It shone like burnished gold under a bloated sun. I closed my eyes. ‘Of all the places – Ginsters’ World!’

‘Open the doors! OPEN THE DOORS!’ gargled Dawn through a throatful of drool.

I activated the door controls, once again adjusting the dimensional relativiser so that Dawn’s leviathan bulk could pass through. There was a brief lull, then the sound of steady, contented gorging. It sounded like a sty full of starving catarrhous pigs snout-deep in slop.

Feeling nauseous I stepped out of my TARDIS onto the scrumptious surface of Ginsters’ World. The sunlight made me squint and the smell of cooked meat in jelly inveigled its way into my flared nostrils. ‘The whole planet is one enormous pie,’ I muttered. Dawn was on her knees, oblivious to anything but filling her face, which was buried in pastry, meat and goo.

‘Watch it, if you eat too much, you’ll set the planet off its orbit.’

‘SLOBBER! SLOO! SCLOOOOORCH! GRAAA!’ was Dawn’s reply.

Then something glinting in the middle distance caught my eye. I moved closer. It was a metal pole, about four feet high, with two triangular flags fluttering at its top. I turned and ran back to Dawn, who was now waist deep in pie, podgy legs waving in the air.

‘Dawn! We must leave. NOW!’ I grabbed her feet and pulled but she was far too fond of her food to let go.

And it was too late anyway.

Three stocky, helmeted figures appeared from behind a massive Scotch Egg. The leader raised a wand-like weapon, and wheezed: ‘You are now prisoners of the glorious and strategic Sontaran Empire!’

Bollocks. Bugger. BALLS! Sontarans! ‘What are you lot doing here?’ I glanced around at the tasty terrain. ‘It’s not as if you need to eat, is it?’

The lead Sontaran stamped and snorted. ‘I am Commander Skunt of the Sontaran Strategic Sn... Strategy Squadron,’ he hissed. ‘This planet is of vital strategic importance.’

Meanwhile, the other two Sontarans were tugging Dawn from her gorge-hole. ‘Waaaaaa!’ cried the fatastrophic femme fat-ale. ‘Lemme GO!’ She sprawled ungraciously on the glazed surface of Ginsters’ World, her face a suffused gurn of thwarted hunger.

Commander Skunt glared down at Dawn and then up at me. ‘Who are you and what is your purpose here?’

I folded my arms. ‘My name is Doctor Skagra, this is Dawn, and this is turning out to be the date from hell.’

Dawn had by now clocked the Sontarans. ‘Eeeeee! Oooooo! MONSTERS!’ she shrieked. She clung to my leg and farted in fear.

I waved my coat to dispel the malodorous miasma - but the Sontarans seemed terribly affected by the pong. They staggered around spluttering and stomping and gasping for air.

I frowned. There was something different about these Sontarans – but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. ‘Well done, Dawn!’ I said, dragging her to her feet, a feat which took all my Time Lord strength. ‘Whilst they’re disoriented let’s leg it back to my TARDIS!’

But the Sontarans had recovered. ‘Lieutenant Vart! Lieutenant Vadj! SEIZE THEM!’ bellowed Commander Skunt, his eyes glowing redly through the slits in his domed helmet.

Dawn and I found ourselves gripped tightly by strong three-fingered alien hands and marched towards the giant Scotch Egg. Dawn seemed hypnotised by the giant snack, and began drooling copiously.

‘Sorry, Dawn,’ I said. ‘That’s NOT a Scotch Egg - it’s a Sontaran battle cruiser.’

‘That is correct!’ spluttered Skunt as we passed into the shadow of the gigantic ersatz egg.

‘But why does it look like a Scotch egg?’ I wondered aloud.

‘It is a strategic disguise,’ rumbled Skunt, as if that explained everything. As they neared, a hatch opened in the breadcrumby skin of the Sontaran ship and a ramp descended. Dawn was shoved onto the ramp, a Sontaran boot prodding her ample behind. She waved her arms in the air and wailed: ‘I wanna go a pooh!’

I was going to fucking murder Captain Jack when – if – I got back to Cardiff.

Inside the Sontaran battle cruiser, it stank. I wrinkled my nose. ‘I don’t know what’s worse, the whiff of your guffs or the smell of stale Sontaran jock-sweat.’

‘My bum feels funny,’ wailed Dawn in answer. I frowned. Could she think of nothing but her digestive processes?

We were shoved, harangued and prodded up against a wall by the three growling Sontarans. Dawn’s jowls wobbled in fear. The Sontarans removed their helmets. Dawn screamed at the sight of their toad-like faces and potatoey heads.

I, of course, didn’t bat an eyelid. ‘Well, now you’ve got us, what are you going to do with us?’

‘You cannot be allowed to interfere with the Sontaran strategy,’ gurgled Skunt, fat pink tongue licking thick black lips. ‘Therefore you will be strategically executed!’

‘Quick, Dawn, let another one off!’

‘I can’t! I think I’m constipated!’

‘But you said you wanted -’

‘I know!’ wailed Dawn, ‘But I caaaan’t! I’m all bunged up!’

The three Sontarans raised their weapons.

‘Scream! And prepare to writhe, and die!’ roared Commander Skunt.

The ends of their weapons began to glow red.

A flicker of something caught my eagle eye. ‘Wait!’ I yelled, stepping forward and raising my hands. ‘There’s a traitor in your midst!’

‘Shut up!’ roared Skunt, steam hissing from between his teeth.

‘It’s Vadj!’ I shouted, pointing.

Skunt and Vart turned to look uneasily at their comrade.

‘He’s gorn all glowy!’ cried Dawn.

It was true – Lieutenant Vadj was suffused with an eerie glow, like an intergalactic Ready Brek Kid, only green. He began to change...

Skunt and Vart grunted in alarm and stepped backwards, levelling their guns at Vadj. Their comrade had now morphed into a gigantic blobular ball covered in fine white hairs, like a giant gooseberry. It pulsed with an eerie inner green light and blue sparks crackled across its jelly-like surface.

‘Oh my God what the HELL is that?’ wailed Dawn, clutching my arm so hard that I winced.

‘A Rutan scout,’ I explained.

Skunt and Vart simultaneously fired at the alien intruder. Sizzling beams of red energy jetted from the ends of their weapons and plunged into the Rutan - but it just fizzed, absorbed the energy, and crackled angrily.

‘Your weapons are useless!’ warbled the Rutan in a voice that sounded both electronic and soupy. It surged towards us, flailing its tentacles and casting off blue arcs of energy.

Dawn shrieked, and farted. A look of mixed relief and terror dawned on her face. ‘I’m unblocked!’

Vart, rather ironically, gagged at the smell, and staggered towards the advancing Rutan. Blue energy found him and the Sontaran warrior was instantly fried to a crisp.

‘Run!’ I yelled, shoving the choking Skunt and my malodorous date deeper into the bowels of the disguised Sontaran ship. It was dark, dank, smelly, and laced with curving circular corridors paved with grating that clanked beneath our feet.

Skunt was frothing in anger and exertion, his face a mask of anger. ‘Betrayed! BETRAYED!’ he bellowed.

I skidded to a halt and bustled Skunt and Dawn into a side-room. It contained Sontaran laundry, and stank even worse than the rest of the ship.

‘We must join forces to neutralise that Rutan,’ I said. ‘Agreed?’

Skunt nodded, his piggy Sontaran eyes burning red. Skunt grimaced. ‘It would be the strategic thing to do.’

‘Great!’ I rubbed my hands together. ‘Now, how are we gonna get rid of our blobby friend?’

‘What if,’ panted Dawn, a look of dogged monomania on her sweaty face, ‘I set light to one of my own faaaaaAAAAAARTS?!’

I shook my head. ‘No, the Rutan would probably enjoy that.’

‘I would rather your companion did NOT emit anything further from its anal orifice,’ rumbled Skunt, fixing me with a baleful stare.

‘I can’t guarantee that,’ I muttered, gazing ruefully down at the perspiring lump .

Skunt shoved me aside. ‘Honour demands that I face the Rutan scum in single combat.’

‘Oh, that good old Sontaran honour. Always got to face your enemies, because of your probic vents – the small hole at the back of your necks through which you take in the energy that sustains you,’ I added, for Dawn’s benefit. Not that she seemed to care - she was busy exploring her fingernails for pie residue.

Skunt shoved me aside, roaring in anger. ‘Raaaagh!’

‘But you haven’t GOT any probic vents!’ I cried, pointing at the back of the Sontaran Commander’s collar. ‘I knew there was something odd about you! You’re not Sontarans – what are you?!’

Dawn screamed as Skunt picked me up by my lapels. ‘I AM a Sontaran and I will prove it by strategically destroying my enemy!’

So saying Skunt chucked me into a pile of Sontaran vests and stomped away.

I extricated myself. ‘Now, Dawn – your silly plan about igniting your farts has given me an idea.’

‘Has it?’ said Dawn disinterestedly, intently examining something she’d found under her thumbnail. ‘Oh. When can I have more planet pie?’

‘Not now,’ I said through gritted teeth. ‘We need to find the Sontaran armoury.’

‘I’d rather find the canteen,’ chuntered Dawn predictably.

We set off warily along the corridor, and found the armoury. I armed myself with a grenade launcher, reasoning that should be able to blast the Rutan into little jellified bits – and deal with Skunt, should that became necessary.

A green glow shone creepily somewhere ahead. There was no sound of battle, only a fizzing crackling noise and a smell akin to fried pork which made Dawn drool incontinently.

We turned the corner to see the Rutan, still in its sparky blobular formation, poised over the charred body of Skunt, ready to deliver the death blow.

I immediately fired the grenade launcher at the Rutan. It plunged deep inside the gelatinous mass, then exploded. There was a weird electronic howl and then green gloop everywhere. It was like the aftermath of a bizarre alien bukkake party.

I tossed the grenade launcher to the floor and walked over to where Skunt lay.
He was still alive – just.

‘We got it,’ I said softly. ‘Honour is satisfied.’

Skunt grimaced. ‘Thank you... Doctor Skagra. And so – I die... but... my mission is accomplished, and the Rutan host will never know the secret.’

I coopied down beside the dying clone warrior – not noticing Dawn slip away. ‘Yes, what WAS your plan? Has it got anything to do with your un-Sontaran lack of probic vents?’

Skunt gargled and coughed. ‘Yes. I... we... are a glorious offshoot faction of the Sontaran Empire. Years ago, on an expedition to the Noodlesphere, we discovered the joys of food. Sensual pleasures... pies... pasties... crisps... cakes... ice cream... CURRY! We augmented ourselves so that we could obtain sustenance from food rather than raw energy.’

‘Sontaran epicures. I’ve seen it all now. So THAT’S why you were so affected by Dawn’s farts! Normal Sontarans don’t eat so they can’t taste or smell - but you can!’

‘Yes. Your companion’s rectal emissions are poison to us.’

Skunt gurgled in pain and his three-fingered hand clutched my knee. ‘Sontaran... High Command... saw our actions as heresy, and exiled us. They call us the Shame of the Sontarans.’ Skunt grimaced in anger. ‘And for decades we have been searching for this place – the gourmand’s Nirvana, the fabled Pie Planet, Ginsters’ World.’

‘And now you’ve found it, it’s too late – you’re dying...’

Commander Skunt’s eyes gleamed redly for one last time. ‘Not too late! I – I have summoned the rest of the Sontaran Strategic – SNACK Squadron, and they will soon be here!’ Skunt hissed and grinned.

‘Well in that case I hope you don’t mind if I’m off,’ I said, but Skunt didn’t hear me. He was dead.

I stood up and left the ship. The giant Scotch Egg cast a long shadow, in which sat Dawn, steadily gorging.

‘Our work here is done.’ I gazed up at the sky. ‘And I hope they make it.’

‘Who makes what?’ blurted Dawn through a mouthful of pastry and meat.

‘Come on.’

‘No! I’m staying here!’

I was tempted to let her stay, but I couldn’t leave her to the Sontarans, even nice ones, so I dragged her kicking and screaming towards my TARDIS.

It was a losing battle until I had a bright idea. ‘Look, I promise to take you to, um, Cadburia, Planet of Chocolate!’ I cried.

Dawn immediately ceased her struggling, and scampered grotesquely into the TARDIS.

I followed and set the fast return switch. As the central column began to rise and fall, Dawn turned to face me, her eyes glassy and bovine, her scoop-jaw glistening with dribble. ‘Well, come on then! The Choco Planet! I’m still hungry, you smarmy tosser!’

I ignored the insult and smirked. ‘No such place. I made it up!’

Too late, I realised my mistake. Dawn launched herself at me, snarling like a rabid boar on heat. Thinking quickly I activated the localised dispenser scoop and teleported her off my TARDIS to Rassilon knows where. Hopefully somewhere safe, I didn’t really wish her any harm.

I returned to Cardiff a few hours earlier than I had departed and had to hang around until I left. I watched myself enter my TARDIS with Dawn and felt like shouting out a warning, but that would have buggered up the timelines, or something. I went back to the nightclub where Jack was waiting for me, a big grin on his stupid face, so I gave him a Chinese burn, the cunt. Then we went back to the Torchwood hub and had bum fun with Ianto. I was Lucky Pierre, so after all that the evening ended rather well.
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Sun 20 Oct 2013, 18:49, 41 replies)

It was all going so well until she saw my cock.
Fucking Alektorophobia :(
( Infidel , shit and wrong, Sun 20 Oct 2013, 14:26, 4 replies)

Close Call
In my younger years (well mids twenties) I had a number of close calls. I was single, but for some reason I just ended up with girls that just happened to be married or with someone else. I didnt especially do it on purpose, it was just uncanny.

One special night I was out with a few friends from work, out in a place not too far from Luton. I didn't live in Luton, and I knew that quite probably I would be abandoned during the night at some point as most of them loved the old Irish exit...

For some reason I was just on form.... I got two numbers and quite frisky with one of them, but they were going on to other clubs and I wasnt, so that ended.

Then I saw her, my first MILF. She was around 40, blonde, and very tidy. I spent the rest of the night, and everything was going well. Her friend was even on my side...

At the end of the night I thought everything was on for a night of hide the sausage, but she turned me down. I was gutted. Off they went in a taxi, and I had lost all my work friends. I was stood outside the nightclub, and after about 5 minutes, who should turn up was the taxi they went off in, and the door opened, and her friend shouted 'you best get in here, i've spent all night trying to get her to shag you, dont dissapoint me!'

So I got in, and we all went to her house, and that was that. It was a great night, and yes, everything went to plan...

The next morning, not so well....

We both woke up about 9am to the sound of banging on the door downstairs. She then looked in horror at me, and told me to get dressed, as it was her husband.

The next 60 seconds went in a blur. I got ready and was dressed in 10 seconds, she ran downstairs to unbolt the door. I opened the bedroom window and timed me jumping out onto the garage roof with her opening the door to her irate husband.

I jumped onto the drive and didn't look back, just ran like the wind... and kept on running for felt like hours.

When I finally stopped I realised I had no idea where I was, and I had no transport.

I had to ring work to get the mobile number of someone to pick me up before I got spotted, and thankfully they did.

I can laugh about it now.
(h3dg3h0g, Sun 20 Oct 2013, 12:25, 2 replies)

How to turn a good date into a bad one in 5 seconds flat....
I've done many jobs in career and looking back on my C.V I can be proud of what I've achieved. I've helped created new products which are used in industry, I've helped keep the utilities of the UK running and helped make sure that hospitals kept running. In short, career-wise, if I were to stop now, I can look at my C.V with a modicum of pride.

The same cannot be said of my dating life. That, people, is a mess that not even Aggie and Kim could clean up. I very rarely, if ever, ask a girl out. I used to get rejected for all sorts of reasons. Some of the zingers I've had over the years are too short, too tall, too old, too young, too ugly (at least she was honest), too smart (never been able to figure that one out, so I can't be THAT smart) and, my personal favourite, is this story.

I met a girl (let's call her Alex, not her real name, obviously) at my laundrette. She had gorgeous long blonde hair, piercing blue eyes and a smile that was the very defintion of the word "Beauty". I had to ask her out. I just HAD to. So, I got my small talk mouth on and went to work. I started off lightly ("washing machine broken? or is the 'elegant' decor that brings you here?") the progressed to the bigger guns ("So what you reading?"). I never said it was a sophisticated approach, just functional. Eventually, I managed to pluck the courage up and ask her out for a pint. Keep it informal. I asked and the girl from Del Monte she say "Yes!".

The day of the pint came round. I dressed causal (Jeans, Converse Baseball trainers and a black T-shirt) and headed to the pub. There she was drinking a vodka and lemonade. She smiled that smile again at me. I couldn't believe my luck that I'd got this lassie to come for a drink with me. I sauntered over ordered a round of drinks and we sat down. Now more talking. We chatted about music, films, travelling, you know, all the usual topics. Conversation was fluid, she even laughed at my rubbish jokes ("Sorry about your dog being poorly, that's 'ruff'"). Had I found my one true love? No. Because the next topic of conversation was about to bring all of this smashing into a Parisian tunnel wall, Princess Diana-stylee.

Alex: So are you into football?
Om Nom: No, not all. I support Newcastle United.

Seems like an innocent enough comment, right? WRONG! If I'd have gone out and committed the appalling Rwandan genocide again in front of her eyes, that would have been more forgivable than that previous comment.

The pint ended 15 minutes after that, we shook handed, said our goodbyes and I handed her my phone number "in case you want to hook up again as this was pleasant". Didn't hear from her for weeks. "What went wrong?" I kept asking myself. It went so well. I saw her again in the high street and said hello. There was a bit of small talk, but I had to ask her why I hadn't heard from her again. She gave me her answer...

Alex: You were really nice and funny, but I'm a Sunderland supporter. There's no way I could date a Newcastle fan.

And there, folks, is my favourite reason for rejection and why that was my worst date. To mess a date up because of the team I support is something I couldn't have possibly fathomed in a million years. I screwed a date up because I support a bunch of black and white donkeys who keep missing relegation by the skin of their teeth.

Since that episode, I vowed never to ask another girl out again as I couldn't deal with that level of humilation again. I often wonder "Am I mad"? Is this a phobia I should get over? Until I read a quote from the ever-funnyman, John Cleese, who said "An Englishman's greatest achievement is to go from cradle to grave without ever making a fool of himself."...
(Om Nom was fed with candy on, Sun 20 Oct 2013, 11:34, 11 replies)

It's a fool who looks for logic in the chambers of the heart, or more specifically the female heart.
I'd met her at a party, a friend of a friend. I asked her out, she said yes because I'm pretty much irresistible to the ladieeeeees.

Anyway, we a had a few drinks, went for an Italian, then queued up at some god awful place that I'd normally avoid, but she really wanted to go, so what the fuck.

We were nearly at the front of the queue when a couple of guys behind us exchanged a few words with the bouncers. They must have called for their boss, coz a minute later a man mountain came out and joined them. He was very very fat, about seven and a half feet tall, dressed in a tent sized tee-shirt that still clung to his wobbling flesh.

When this monster's back was turned one of the guys behind me called out "Nice tits mate, but I still wouldn't want to shag yer". As the queuing crowed laughed, Jabba's retribution was swift but inaccurate. With one fearsome blow he nearly punched my head off, exploding my only recently mended nose.

As we walked to the taxi queue my date told me she found guys who couldn't 'look after themselves' a big turn off, and she was embarrassed to be seen with me all bloody and beaten. She went home, I went to casualty.
( Ring Of Fire A petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Sun 20 Oct 2013, 11:32, Reply)

Apparently.

(s0ckpuppet logging out to reply to you if you're not careful, Sun 20 Oct 2013, 8:52, 11 replies)

Put it this way, there should never been a second date.

(_Battered_, Sun 20 Oct 2013, 8:23, 1 reply)

Cambridge lost the Boat Race this year.

(ubergeekian, Sun 20 Oct 2013, 0:27, Reply)

I used to work as a bouncer in a Glaswegian nightclub
and there was a super hot barmaid called Niki whom I always fancied. So one day I had the courage to ask her out. Now, I only talked to her in passing so when I did manage to talk to her at length on our way to see the Coen brothers film, Fargo, did I realise she was dumb as a box of hair and realised my romantic first date film choice was wrong on just about every level imaginable. After the film, we went to a bar and this is where I ran into my other bouncer colleagues who proceeded to throw paper, crisps and small empty plastic water bottles at the table we were sat at. This got too much for Niki who got up and screamed "you're a fucking weirdo who likes weird films and you've told all our mates about me!" She was very paranoid I was later told.
( colmcq2, Sat 19 Oct 2013, 22:22, 4 replies)

A reposted tale of drink and MASSIVE drugs:
So I was trying to get to do sex to a girl. She was also quite the prick-tease, I found out later, but for the time being, we were just getting drunk together.

"We should go back to mine" she said, raising my trousers, "but first let's have a drink in the The Fox".

As we walked there, both a few drinks under, she took out some prescription pills and took one - "They're for my epilepsy" she explained, "Would you like one?"

"You're alright" I said, remembering Romania with horrid accuracy.

"Oh go on!" she giggled, "All my friends do - they just calm my epilepsy, but they say they make you really nice and mellow ... very ... sensual ... " she said. I would like to point out that in previous discussion she'd hinted that not only was she not averse to, but quite keen on a little back door action.

"I dunno ... " I said, playing the part of idiot, easily-led student to a tee.

"They're really good" she said, popping one in my mouth slowly, letting her fingers trail my lips.

___________________________


I remember being kicked in the stomach - sort of gently, but repeatedly.

"Oi!" said God, "OI!"

Something sounded like a radio crackling.

"Fuck it" said God, "Let's just get the fucker out and get fucking closed"

I was flying. Beautiful, cold air on my skin. My arms hurt, but I was fine, flying through the cold night, refreshed - lovely.

Then my face hit the floor with a crack. Oh well.

God came back, this time with a kinder, softer tone, "You alright, mate? You from the college? I think he's from the college"

"I am indeed from the college" I instructed them, "I wonder if I could trouble you for the loan of twenty pounds with which to hire a public carriage, that I might hoof off? I hope that my mate Dan's awake, and that I might spend the night on his floor, as I know his liberal attitude to accommodation will be prevalent, and he lives not far from here. Would you mind? I would be most obliged."

"I dunno" said God, "Isn't he a mate of Dan's?"

"I AM a mate of Dan's!" I said, "As I instructed you! Now, twenty pounds, if you please!"

The summer passed, and soon the cool of autumn was making me shiver.

"Dan, mate? Yeah. You got a mate with a red mohican? Yeah. Yeah. Well he's outside The Fox and he's ... yeah. No. He's proper fucked. Yeah. Yeah OK - you what? Oh mate - yeah sure - yeah OK mate. Yeah that's cool."

I remember noting that Dan had grown a beard, and looked handsome with it. A small chap but deceptively strong, he swore at me profusely for some reason, and there was something to do with a blanket.

The morning arrived, and with it breakfast of tea and a sausage sandwich. A trip to the park to enjoy the mid-summer sun was arranged, and throughout it I alternately shivered and sweated, and occassionally pulled myself to the bushes to dry heave. In the afternoon I managed to get back to mine, where I spent two days in bed flitting from consciousness to sleep, with no real distinction between them. I could not focus for a week on whether or not I existed beyond mild physical discomfort.

I never did get to have sex with the girl.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Sat 19 Oct 2013, 14:54, 4 replies)

My housemate at university, whose name is not Dave, told me this story.
We lived opposite a house full of girls, some of whom were very lovely indeed. After months of effort, he managed to convince one of them to go out on a date with him and after a reasonably successful visit to the cinema and a couple of drinks at a bar they went back to her place. There, they found one of her housemates sitting in the kitchen with her boyfriend, sat down with them and started chatting. Now Dave is a bit of a physical chap, into kickboxing and martial arts, so to prove his alpha maleness in the eyes of his potential sleeping partner he challenged her housemate's boyfriend to arm wrestle. This guy was also no shrinking violet and agreed, so they went at it and were fairly evenly matched. Unwilling to lose in front of a girl he was trying to impress, Dave pushed and strained and with a triumphant roar he slammed the other guy's hand down onto the table.

However, Dave had been straining far too hard and with all the effort he had lost control of his bowels and shat himself, filling his pants and trousers with runny poo. Not wanting to let all his hard work in attempting to woo this girl go to waste, he excused himself and went to the outside toilet at the back of the kitchen to clean himself up but the damage was too severe for a quick wipe and the throwing away of his pants, so he had a brainwave. He went back into the kitchen and told her that he'd left something at home, nipped across the road to ours, showered and changed and then went back to hers, where she told him in no uncertain terms that the evening was over and he should go home again.

I think she noticed.
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Sat 19 Oct 2013, 14:01, 13 replies)

Capt. Kirk had a date with a lady once
It was all going well until he had a little accident in bed. William Shatner.

It was probably the Captain's log.
( Ghoti Fingers, Sat 19 Oct 2013, 10:02, 1 reply)

She'll do
During a dry spell, my mate Malcy the Alcy (this was the 90's, way before anyone could even spell nominative determinism) rang me. He had recently discovered the delights of internet dating. "Hey coke, I've got one for you. I've been chatting her up for ages, but she's not for me, do you want one of my rejects?" was the basic gist.

Yeah alright.

We spoke one evening, I had a bit of The The on the gramophone at the time and she could hear it in the background. She asked what it was, The The I explained. The what? she said. I died a little. I agreed to a date. In a town called Ware. Where she said? Ha fucking ha I said.

Two days later, we're in a red and white checker Italian. The walls are adorned - I shit thee not - with many pictures of Gillian Taylforth. I figure she is either a regular or the owner likes car head.

We are chatting, me and the reject. She's a big lass, wearing a leather skirt and big thigh high leather boots - for me apparently. I had said at one point I quite liked girls in heels and therefore this outfit is deemed appropriate. I smile insincerely. They are not heels, they are wedges, the least sexy of all the shoe fixtures. I do not like this evening, it's boring.

She is talking, I am watching. Then it happens.

She just stops. She freezes. Cutlery held still, mouth still in the shape of saying the word "thunder". I am confused. She has frozen solid. I look around and she doesn't move. Her eyes are dead. She has crashed, locked up, died maybe??

And just when I was about to call for help, "...nder and lightening was mental." - she resumes as if someone just released the pause button.

She is is fully 30 seconds unmoving and it takes me a further 30 to realise she hasn't even noticed.

My weirdedoutness must be obvious. She hesitates, 'oh did I just freeze?'. I nod. 'Yeah I do that. Weird huh. Do you want to go back to mine. We can listen to The The, I own everything they've ever done.' She insists on paying. I am a gentleman 99.999% of the time. I decide this to be a 0.001% moment. She pays. I glance back at the Gillian Taylforth gallery as I'm dragged away by the hand.

In the flat, I note the stack of still shrink wrapped The The CD's and VHS cassettes of "The The: Infected". I love The The but maybe not any more. I am feeling the edges of worry. Or a future involving kitchen knives and threats.

I sit down and she gets me a beer. She goes to the toilet and is there for a while. I hear nothing, thank god. She comes back in the lounge, sans boots. She sits crosslegged in front of me. Her leather skirt is short. She is not wearing any underwear and I can see labia minora. For a millisecond I am tempted.

I weigh it up. Its too easy. I could just shoot and run. She knows my mobile number. She doesn't know where I live or even my surname. I could probably do this and then leave and never come back. I may survive the night. I don't think she will eat me. She doesn't have cats. The house is clean. No one will know. She'll know. She'll call me tomorrow. The day after, every day. This wont go well. I am better than this. I'm on a dry spell. Every hole's a goal. I could just leave now and make some excuse. It really fucking raining. I can actually see fanny and its been a while. My penis is not feeling it. Its the least sexy I have ever felt. She's a low level stalker with issues and fakes locking up in restaurants. She works in a bank. She pretends to like bands that I like to get me into bed. Shit.

I lie about something and leave. I call Malcy and call him a cunt to his answerphone. There's no way he's conscious at this time.
( I have run out of coke is a little sweaty, Fri 18 Oct 2013, 19:47, 10 replies)

A very charming and sophisticated Italian friend of mine once came home unexpectedly early from a hot date.
'How did it go?'
'Alright until I puked on his cock in the taxi.'
Classy chaps the eye-ties.
( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Fri 18 Oct 2013, 18:05, 5 replies)

I once went on a date with spimf and fell asleep during the first paragraph.

( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Fri 18 Oct 2013, 17:59, 4 replies)

Being a 33 year old man, and sexually active since my mid teens, I have been on many dates, some of which have been worse than others.

(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Fri 18 Oct 2013, 17:54, 9 replies)

I started reading a book
Nice sweet lad asked me out on a date. I wasn't really keen... but thought I'd give it a go.
Sadly he was so bloody boring I ended up pulling a book out of my bag and just sat there reading. A few minutes later his brother and a load of his mates came in. The poor lad is still living it down to this day.
Mind you - I ended up going out with his sexier older brother for a year or so... so it wasn't a complete waste of time.
(canarynightlife "Some weasel nicked the cork from my lunch! ", Fri 18 Oct 2013, 16:58, 4 replies)

Blind Drunk blind date
a few years back i was coerced by work colleagues to go on a blind date.

turns out the young lady was very nice indeed. what wasn't was said evening being crashed by an ex who just so happened to be in the same bar, and thought it would be fun to regale her with tales of me.

don't really remember much else as I was full of booze, bemusement and tramadol...
(andy blip glasgow mega snake, Fri 18 Oct 2013, 16:49, 1 reply)

i took a girl to see an inappropriate film

( The Doveston haunted by the memory of his own amnesia, Fri 18 Oct 2013, 16:47, 14 replies)

On our very first date, she thought it would be fun to discuss her favourite baby names

Amazingly, there were more dates after this.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Fri 18 Oct 2013, 16:32, 3 replies)

A bad choice of film
Back in my youth I had fancied a particular girl for an absolute age. I finally plucked up the courage to ask her to go to the cinema with me on a date. Much to my surprise and delight she said yes.

I was scanning through the cinema listings for the films showing at the local indie cinema. I spotted a film called 'Irreversible'. 'French language revenge thriller' is all the blurb said. Great, I thought, it is a revenge thriller, which i'll like and she studies French at Uni so she'll think I'm being thoughtful.

For those of you that haven't seen the film, it is 97 minutes of a man graphically having his face smashed in with a fire extinguisher, plenty of gay sex scenes and possibly the longest, most harrowing rape scene ever committed to film.

We sat through the whole thing. Me too embarrassed to say anything or suggest we left, her presumably too terrified to say anything in case I decided to take her home and wear her skin as a jumper.

We left the auditorium in silence and in the foyer of the cinema she said in a small, scared voice 'Did you know it was going to be like that?'. I apologised and explained I didn't.

She never spoke to me again and spent a good 18 months avoiding me when I saw her on campus.
( Anthropos Was making beer on, Fri 18 Oct 2013, 16:09, 4 replies)

Fig off

( GeordieJay Bummers are deaf, Fri 18 Oct 2013, 15:31, 1 reply)

there have been a few
such as the religious nutter who wanted to "save" me, the one who spent the entire date talking about his dead ex and the one who threw a tantrum in the restaurant because there was a slice of tomato in his side-salad.
the creepiest, though, was colin. i'd met him in the local shitpit of a nightclub and we'd hit it off, due to poor lighting and us both being massively drunk. we arranged to meet that sunday afternoon for a drink and a pub lunch.
before the pub, however, colin wanted to introduce me to his mother.
his dead mother.
he wanted me to go to the cemetery and say hello to a fucking headstone.
yes, yes i ran. i did not look back.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Fri 18 Oct 2013, 15:18, 9 replies)