b3ta.com qotw
You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Home » Question of the Week » Bad Dates » Page 4 | Search
This is a question Bad Dates

Tell us about your least successful date. Arrive late? Forget their name? Show them goatse on your phone just as the main course arrived? Or was it the other way around?

(, Thu 17 Oct 2013, 16:27)
Pages: Popular, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

Sort of a date that ended with a break up.
I was 16, he was 16 we were at college. We were sort of experimenting with our sexuality yeah and booze. We were at his parents house but prior to the parents we were at various pubs getting teen drunk. Inebriation led us back to his to listen to some new epic vinyl and of course sexual shenanigans before passing out.

I was awoken at I presumed about 4am in the morning by his very angry parents. It was actually about 9.30pm. Their son had done something very bad and I was of course to blame. He had got up naked, gone to their best room and relieved himself whilst carry a piss horn into the waste paper basket, now in the best room the parents had guests. Everyone was quite shocked, understandably. The shock was greater because the waste paper basket was a wicker variety and did not have the usual carrier bag inside the wicker (slovens) and the piss had gone onto the newly fitted carpet. to round things off he spunk farted and some shit and spunk went on the carpet. Possibly not the best way to out yourself and I was not allowed in the house ever, ever again. Miserable bastards, not like I was the one who did it.
(, Tue 22 Oct 2013, 20:50, 13 replies)
Spoiling your date's date
A few years back I'd just recently split up from my girlfriend of 5 years and wasn't feeling all that grand.

Every night was spent in the pub spending all the money I had managed to earn that day.

This isn't the best time to meet a girl (let alone one that will turn into your future ex-wife)but there it is, it happened.

Blurry eyes met across the crowded pub, shots were bought and drunk, she was invited back to mine for a smoke. When we got back she announced that she didn't smoke but wanted to come back anyway.

The night quickly descended into sexy time (even more speedily than I would have thought as she was going commando).

After this, numbers were exchanged and like any cripplingly shy bloke I couldn't pick up the courage to call her.

A few days later, I bumped into her in my local and proceed to apologise for my lack of communication after the night we had spent together. It wasn't that I didn't want to see her again, I was just nervous, how about we meet up?

She went a little quiet, turned around and introduced me to her date for that night, her boyfriend of the best part of a year.

I think I truly fucked that date up.

Within a month I'd moved in with her, a couple of years later we were married and less than 2 years after that we got divorced. Should have realised what kind of girl she was when I ballsed up that poor guy's date.
(, Tue 22 Oct 2013, 18:21, 3 replies)
Not so much a date
but the first time I met a mate's girlfriend, she was sitting on the floor in his living room. I'd just bought some supplies, and as I put my shopping bag down a Mueller Fruit Corner exploded, showering her from head to foot with creamy yoghurt. She was not impressed.
(, Tue 22 Oct 2013, 17:58, 1 reply)
About eight years ago I met a girl in a nightclub.
She was attractive, sweet, funny and as such numbers were exchanged and arrangements subsequently made to meet in a quiet city centre pub the next day and get to know each other.

We met, sat down on one of those big comfy sofas in a quiet part of the bar with our drinks and started to talk. A few minutes into conversation she started to tell me about her childhood and how she spent every evening after school with her uncle, who would abuse her sexually. She said that he took her virginity at the age of five and the abuse went on until the day before she turned thirteen, on this occasion her uncle said that he would give her a special treat to welcome her to her teens and proceed to anally rape her. He told her that tomorrow he would consider her to be spoiled goods and would no longer have anything to do with her. Her parents believed her to be responsible enough to look after herself at this age and no longer required her uncles 'services'.

I have omitted a lot of detail, but you get the general idea of what was said. She seemed upset but said that I seemed very trustworthy and understanding, and was glad that this was off her chest.

The date had gone wrong and was over moments later, when she hung her head a little in reflection and noticed that I had an erection and pre-cum was soaking through my jeans.
(, Tue 22 Oct 2013, 16:20, 7 replies)
I once went to dinner with a colleague and his wife.
Long story short after the port and cheese she pegged him in the arse with a hefty strap-on jack.
(, Tue 22 Oct 2013, 14:57, 13 replies)
I flip-reversed it.

(, Tue 22 Oct 2013, 13:46, 4 replies)
Setting fire to a girl's hair is not the ideal start to a date.
Luckily, I got her pissed and fucked her tampon out later in the evening.
(, Tue 22 Oct 2013, 12:53, 15 replies)
My sister and I went on a double date with a couple of "smug wanker" types.
All they did was exchange knowing looks, smoke, and grill us on our interests, like a pair of extremely petty John Humphries.
In the end, one of them made a disparaging remark about someone's mother, so we made our excuses and left.
Walked past the place, half an hour later, and they were all over each other. Ick.
(, Tue 22 Oct 2013, 11:58, 9 replies)
Pretty boring
My mate and I went on a double-date with two girls.

They were both really fit. They were also incredibly boring - had either of them expressed any characteristics, I'm sure it would have been that they were prissy, spoilt princesses, but getting anything beyond a tight smile and a "Thanks" for the drinks we bought them was proving nigh on impossible.

"I've just bought the latest XXXXX album - you into music?"

"Not really."

"Er ... OK - but what about movie music? Or, indeed, movies?"

"Don't really watch anything."

"Do you, er ... read?"

"Reading's boring."

They were quite impressively dull. But they did both look very nice.

Eventually, after the pair of us trying to make conversation for half an hour, and getting nowhere, as I trimmed my cigarette ash on the edge of the ashtray, and said to my friend idly, indicating the pile, "Hey man - that reminds me of your mum" an immediate look of shock rendered on their faces, and one said "That's absolutely SICK!" and they grabbed their coats and bags and stormed out, leaving me and my mate to have a great evening drinking.
(, Tue 22 Oct 2013, 10:11, 1 reply)
Some years ago, a girl named Sandra and I went to watch Trainspotting at the cinema.
It was all going swimmingly. We were the only people in the theatre to laugh when Spud said the prospect of walking across the moorland was not "natural" . I whisked Sandra off to sticky Camden dive The Underworld for some late drinks and intimate chat, perhaps an exchange of fluids.

A couple of watered-down Carlsbergs later, who should walk in but Green Day singer Billy Joe Armstrong and a small entourage. Sandra went over seeking his autograph, but instead got invited to a party, for which they left immediately without so much as a nod in my direction, leaving me with only my "lager" for company.

Billy Joe Armstrong is very short.
(, Tue 22 Oct 2013, 10:05, 7 replies)
I was the hair apparent.
I've been a married man for long enough now that I can't really remember 'dating'. But whilst I cast my mind back there are a few I can vaguely drag out of the memory banks.

I was at uni and had decided that a young lass named Christine was worthy of my attentions. One thing I had noticed and commented to her was that she always wore headgear (be it a hat, beany or hood) and aside from the wisps of hair coming out of them I'd never seen (what I assumed) her lovely flowing blonde locks blowing in the breeze. I also knew she had another suitor and he knew about me.

My attitude at the time was "All's fair in Love & War". We met for coffee after most lectures that we didn't share. Many an arvo was spent getting stoned on the main lawn area and heading down the tavern for libations, pool playing and some canoodiling in the booths at the back of the tavern.

So apart from our regular "interactions" I decide to ask Chris out on a "date".
We headed off to an Italian restaurant in the city where her sister worked.
The lights were bright, the wine flowed and the food was delicious.
I asked Chris if she wanted to remove her hat. She then told me she'd been trying to hide something from me. She told me she had alopecia. It was supposedly related to a nervous affliction she had where her hair fell out due to her being stressed.

Me, being full of cheap wine and moderately good food decided to go full retard on the 'hair' jokes. Thinking of course that it was just some light ribbing and not realising; just how much having so much stress in your life can actually make your hair fall out!
I started with "Allo, Pecia." and swiftly moved onto telling her that there was no need for her to pull her hair out over it.

Due to the fact that I had imbibed some quantity of inexpensive wine and eaten my share of a well prepared & tasty meal - my inhibitions were somewhat lessened. Because of that I quite wrongly felt that it would be ok to make inappropriate jokes about my date's hair (or lack thereof). Having an inordinately large amount of stress in your life can indeed cause your hair to fall out. Not least from suffering bad jokes about it from potential paramours!

The death knell?
I think it may have been putting "The Age of Aquarius" on the jukebox once we got to the pub later.
EDITED because it seems both Drimble and Enzyme are thick cunts.
(, Tue 22 Oct 2013, 9:55, 2 replies)
Dates are not the only fruit... there are apricots, too
This isn't so much a bad date, as a string of hopelessly inept ones... culminating in a bad date for her.

Way way back in the mists of time I used to cycle to work, and pass a vision of platinum blonde gorgeousness who I was desperate to get to know better. For convenience, let's call her Sheree (as that's what I first thought she said when I asked her name).
Somehow I managed to engage her in conversation and gave her my phone number. Unbelievably, a couple of days she rang me! We arranged to meet at a local pub for a couple of drinks one evening soon.

So with nerves a-jangling I met her for our first date. The evening of delightful banter with a beautiful lady that I had envisaged didn't quite materialise though; mainly because she was terminally shy, up to the point of barely speaking. Even when I asked her what she wanted to drink the most she could manage was “I don't mind”, without even looking me in the eye. We didn't so much chat as I talked at her & asked her questions, all answered with “Don't know”, “Don't mind”, “Oh” and similar.
After what seemed like forever she had to go, so I offered to walk her home. We strode in silence, and when she got to her gate she said “See you then” and disappeared before I even had a chance to say anything.

Somehow I managed to convince her to come to my house one night; again, disaster ensued. We listened to a bit of music, chatted a bit – she'd started to come out of her shell, even asking me at one point “Haven't you got a TV?” (we didn't – me and a friend shared the house, and we'd filled the lounge with our guitar gear). Generally though, it was just as awkward as before, culminating in my friend coming home early, which was the cue for Sheree to decide that she needed to leave. Again, I walked her home in silence, and again she pulled the front gate vanishing trick.

A couple of weeks later, my aunt asked me if I could babysit my cousin. This was my chance! A house to myself, WITH a television. Best of all, it was round the corner from Sheree's house! Perfect! A film, bit of wine, arm round the shoulder, job done.

Saturday came, the arrangements were made, and I spent the day playing my guitar, planning my conquest, and eating an entire bag of dried apricots.
Come the hour, and I'm walking to my aunt's house. This is it, this is the day I'm finally going to get my hands on the object of my affections. Ooh, I need to fart! Haha, then I shall fart – better now than when we're on the sofa together... oh dear, that felt a little bit... errm, “3D” O_o
Yes, the apricots had had a terrible effect on me and I'd managed a little shart. What to do? I know, I'll pop into my mum & dad's on the way and clean myself up. Sorted!
So, cleanup operation done I continued my journey, once more with a spring in my step. Got to my aunt's, my cousin was already asleep... excellent! My aunt won't be home til 2 or 3... splendid! And here's Sheree now... perfect!

We sat on the sofa, engaged in our peculiar one-sided “conversation”, and I put the film on. All going according to plan...
...and then the cramps started; as the apricots worked their dirty magic. Excusing myself, I darted to the bathroom, where I did my best impression of THAT scene from Dumb & Dumber – except that thankfully, the toilet *did* flush afterwards. Twice. Yep, it was that bad.
The rest of the evening is a blur. Apparently we watched a film, but I don't remember. All I can remember is constantly excusing myself and transforming the bathroom into a foggy brown no-man's land, while the toilet paper (seemingly) got scratchier and scratchier.

The clincher was when she had to use the toilet. I sat miserably on the sofa thinking “Please don't go up there”. When she came back down she sat on the other sofa, and when the film finished she told me she had to go. At the front door I asked if she fancied going out somewhere again soon. Finally she looked me in the eye, and with a sad-sounding “I don't think so” she turned and walked out of my life.

I found a new route to cycle to work.
(, Tue 22 Oct 2013, 9:35, 5 replies)
I had been planning our date for ages
And when it finally came to the day of my date with the mouse from the moon, I was all excited. But we just couldn't communicate in any meaningful manner. I cut the date short and went home alone.

Long story short, I dropped a clanger.
(, Tue 22 Oct 2013, 6:43, 4 replies)
She had a strange scent
The perfume was simultaneously attractive and repellent. Sort of floral decay, like an aged bouquet gone bad on a hot tropical night. Eventually traced it to tooth decay.
(, Tue 22 Oct 2013, 6:36, 1 reply)
I was going out with two chicks and they both came to the same party. Luckily one had had too much to drink and passed out in a bedroom. So I rooted the other woman on the bed (with the other chick passed out on the floor below).
(, Tue 22 Oct 2013, 3:24, 20 replies)
22nd November 1963

(, Tue 22 Oct 2013, 0:37, 3 replies)
Bad Dates of Povvo Christmas Past
Seventies. In run up to Christmas the lounge sprouted an abundance of highly flammable and dangerously frangible decorations while the radiogramme acquired a tablecloth and stoically bore its festive payload of fizzy drinks, satsumas, mixed nuts, fruit jellies and a couple of discorectangular boxes of dates toward the Feast of Stephen.

Did love me them dates.

Until the time lid came off to reveal the biggest, fattest witchetty grub-like fucker laying pulsing like a fat cream slug between those tasty, fruity ranks.

Akh! Put me off dates for years.
(, Tue 22 Oct 2013, 0:20, Reply)
pearoast nutjob
she looked pretty, she came across bubbly. We agreed to meetup for some drinks.

I put on a nice shirt, jeans, shoes.

I arrived at the bar (actually a hotel) and waited with a beer.

Then she arrived, dolled up to the max. 6" stilettos, shiny pink mini dress, Brunette hair done to the max. She was stunning, but in a trashy Jordan kinda way.

She looked alot like a hooker.

We chatted, I drank, she drank more ( i noticed drinks seemed to evaporate in front of her).

She then decided to tell me all of her history (bear in mind this was more of a meetup and see what you think of each other rather than a date)

Lord help me her history.

She told me she was a stripper in Manchester (half my brain at this point went into celebration mode, the other went into a mild panic. Not GF material, but a hell of a shag on the cards?), and that she used to date one of Head of one of the largest gangs in Liverpool. Alarm bells are starting to ring here.

I had just finished telling her a charming quip about how my car isnt fast, but its a nice runner. But, in return, and quite off topic I was now proceeding to get smashed in the face with facts about her history.. and not nice facts. Bang one after another!

My mind wandered about how out of the norm it was to divulge such secrets to what i was - a complete stranger - a stranger you are looking to date. He has bought you one drink, you have known each other for 90 mins.

"...and then I tried to commit suicide" she said, as i connected back into the converstation again.

"What? wow", I tried to act sympathetic, but I knew I could bolt.. if I wanted to. But hey, Id had a few pints and I couldnt be @rsed, plus I hadnt had s3x in ages, and well, I felt lucky.

"yeah I tried to commit suicide, when my sister found me..just in time apparantly,. but dont worry, this is all well behind me" she laughed - nervously.

"really?" I asked. Well done, "when did this all happen?" I asked, wondering if it was suitable to change the subject yet.

"2 months ago"

*Alarm bells intensify the ringing*

I made my excuses and finished off my beer. She gulped her Double vodka.

"Ok, well, erm, I better get a cab, nice meeting you" I was nearly home and dry, it was an interesting night, not one I want to revisit, I felt kind of embarrassed. What a odd one.

"Lets share a cab" she proclaimed, "you can meet my friends!"

oh dear - I thought. I knew we would find it hard to get a cab from where we were. She knew I lived just beyond were she was going. I couldnt get out of it.

My cab turned up. She just got in, without me agreeing.

She held my hand.

I noticed the stench of cheap perfume. she continued to off load her history, then laugh at how silly it all was. It wasnt. It was scary.

We arrived in Birkenhead - she grabbed my hand, paid the taxi man and proceeded to push me into one of the chavvy bars. Chavvy isnt the word. Where everyone is wearing Lacoste, and rockport shoes, heavily gelled hair, with bottles of VK orange in both hands. Happy hard core bellowed out from all directions.

I got a becks and made it to the edge of the dance floor. The girl found me and proceeded to snog my face off. Wow. This is now becoming difficult. She likes me, and Im scared of her. I am now involved with a nutjob. Who, Im scared might still be suicidal, whom me saying fuck off to, might send her back into Suicidal oblivion.

I just wanted to leave, but every time, I tried, she would grab my arm and introduce me to one of her Scally mates. eventually I convinced her I was in work the next day, and left. Exhausted.

I then copied the text from another unsucessful girl I had met a few days before, talking about "not right for me, you were really nice good luck" sent it to her and deleted her from my phone.

Nut job.
(, Tue 22 Oct 2013, 0:04, 4 replies)

I took her shopping but it all got a bit weird
(, Mon 21 Oct 2013, 23:29, 1 reply)
I took her to see India
At The Oval!
(, Mon 21 Oct 2013, 22:58, 2 replies)
i once took a girl on a date to the movies
I ordered a choc-top ice cream, which turned out to be as hard as concrete. I used so much force biting into it that it imploded, showering my shirt, pants and her with creamy stains.
I think the movie was City of Lost Children, which would make this bukake date 1995
(, Mon 21 Oct 2013, 20:26, 4 replies)
Definitely all of these
(, Mon 21 Oct 2013, 18:07, 9 replies)
She'd already had her coffee before I arrived (on time)
..and a minute into the date suggested we move to the greggs up the road so she could grab a sausage roll, and stormed out in a fit of rage when I didn't like the idea... She also looked nothing like her pictures.
(, Mon 21 Oct 2013, 16:02, 5 replies)
She didn't like Huey Lewis and the news so I chopped off her cunt.
lol lol American Werewolf in London.
(, Mon 21 Oct 2013, 14:57, 2 replies)
Oh my
The bad dates were the polite boring ones, with each party vainly trying to come up with a plausible excuse to end the agony early.
The not so bad ones faced up the facts quickly.
I wouldn't presume to bore you with the details.
It was such a relief to get into a long term relationship and to just spend our evenings watching bad TV.
(, Mon 21 Oct 2013, 14:46, 12 replies)
Lying in bed
bathing in the rainscatter of sparks slowly falling after the white heat of orgasm subsided, I heard the Mediterranean lips I had spent most of the evening kissing form the following question:

"Have you ever wanted to do anything so naughty, so forbidden, you've never told anyone about it before? A secret desire?"

My mind galloped to its hiddenmost and most X-rated corners as I wondered just how far this girl would be prepared to go. There was only one way to find out:

"Well, obviously! But if I TOLD you what it was, it wouldn't be a SECRET any more, would it? DUH!"

No French toast for me that morning.
(, Mon 21 Oct 2013, 13:09, 11 replies)
15th of March was a pretty bad date.
A bunch of guys stabbed me at the forum. Even Brutus.
(, Mon 21 Oct 2013, 12:34, 4 replies)
I'd just started seeing a rather fun woman, and we were still in those low-numbered dates when you are discovering all the different ways you can fit your bodies together. After a busy night we'd been woken by the early morning sun streaming into her flat, and it seemed a shame to simply go back to sleep. So off we went again.

Somewhat unusually, we happened to be in the missionary, with (luckily) a sheet draped over us, when her four-year-old daughter ran into the room. Seeing me on top of her mother didn't phase her; in fact she jumped up on top of me and giggled "Let's play horsey!"

So I'm buried up to the maker's plate in the mother, while the daughter is sitting on my back making gee-up noises. I reflect that if I make any kind of movement, I'm probably committing a serious nonce offence.

Thankfully we manage to disengage without causing irreparable trauma to the little one. I then have to carry her around the room for a few circuits, with my whelk-shrivelled cock attempting to climb back into my body, while the mother sits in the corner wrapped in a duvet, pissing herself laughing.
(, Mon 21 Oct 2013, 12:08, 4 replies)
I had been talking to her online for few weeks
and then we finally arranged to meet up. I invited her over for dinner. I don't think my opening line came across as romantic as I had expected.
"Hang about, you're not the girl in your profile picture I've been wanking over!"
"No you nasty cunt, that's my mate. But you can fuck off, I'm off"
"Don't go, "I pleaded, "I'll get you a drink while you ask your mate to join us. I've got a short video I want to show you, and I have this old cup that was here when I moved in."
"Fuck you!" she suggested and stormed out. I ran to the door and called after her as she was going out the gate.
"What about if you motorboat my bollocks for a Bacardi Breezer and a scotch egg?", but she was gone.
Ah well, I have a backup date who'll be here in an hour. Plenty more fish in the sea. Must remember not to tell them that's what they smell like - the last one smelt like a condemned harbour. Still, the cat liked her anyway.
(, Mon 21 Oct 2013, 9:47, 13 replies)
Live Porn, Mum and a Duck
I choose to start my story now.

It wasn’t the first time I had taken her out, we had been hanging around together a fair bit, had done the getting really drunk together thing, done the danced all night in a crowded night club like we where the only people in the room bit, had a lovely dirty weekend away and where just generally getting on really well.
It was time! Time for her to meet my folks and start down the transition from cool young things having a great time together to a long-term exclusive relationship. And as it would happen my Mum called me to let me know my uncle was coming to visit from Perth (in Western Australia) with my Aunty for a weekend and they where organizing some theatre tickets and would I like to come along.

“Better get me two tickets”, I said, “I’ve got someone I would like you to meet”.

The night rolled around and we all agreed to meet at a pub close to the theatre for a couple of pre-show drinks. The group had grown to include my other Aunty (Mum’s younger sister) and her husband who had arranged the tickets as well as my Mum’s slightly eccentric semi religious (read bat shit mental religious nutter) friend.

My girl friend was a pretty tolerant easygoing person but the one thing that did piss her off was people who ran late and didn’t let you know. My mum always runs late and when it comes to the rest of her family, she seems military punctual.

We (the girl and I) arrived at the appointed pub at the appointed hour and had a drink while we waited. I had given her heads up that the rest of the group would probably be late and she didn’t let it worry her. Anyway, as the hour ticks by, we had a few drinks and continued to wait and after 45 minutes had passed my Mum showed up and over the next 40 minutes the others dribbled in leaving us 5 minutes to scurry to the theatre and our seats.

The show we where seeing was called “PERFORMANCE ARTIST” by Annie Sprinkles. The name Annie Sprinkles rang a bell but, I couldn’t quite place it or why. The lights dimmed and the show started. It was a one-woman show, basically a monologue with photo’s and pictures on slides that where displayed on a big screen over the stage. It opened when the “one-woman” uttered the immortal words, “My first name was Frieda Grey” (I can’t actually remember what her first name was but, that’ll do for now), “Frieda was an introverted mousey person who liked to stay at home and didn’t have sex with anybody” and she showed a photo of a rather homely looking teenage girl type person.

“I decided I didn’t like Frieda” a few more family photo’s of a fairly normal reserved mid-west American family, with Frieda in all of the shots. “So I became Annie” followed by the full gutted rabbit wide on twat shot, definitely NSFW, “and she had sex with everyone” and from there on the show went downhill, with a rolling narrative of her friends from the 1970’s Californian porn scene (yes it was that Annie Sprinkles) with a recurring theme of what awesome happy life filled party people they had been until they died of AIDS, accompanied by a series of photo’s (it felt like 1000’s of them) of Annie and the mentioned friends engaged in one on one regular sex, two on one advanced rutting , three on one it’s getting silly porking, how fricken many where in that one screwing, 2 cocks in one Annie arse, 4 cocks cumming on her face, some dirty bastard shitting on her tits and rubbing it on her face and then some shots of stuff they won’t let you show on illegal Cambodian internet sites. People where going white around us, the sound of retching was happening, if her intent had been to shock people, she had achieved it and passed it like Ferrari at full speed passing two old men in a Dobbin the horse suit pulling a fully laden cement truck up a steep hill.

And I was seeing all of this, in the company of my mum, and my Aunties and my new girl friend.

Then Annie told us her third name “Sunny Moonlight Radiance” or some such hippie bullshit, and apparently Sunny Moonlight Radiance only has sex with women. I near dived under my seat at that point.
What ever the first part of Sunny Moonlight Radiance went on about I don’t remember exactly but it did involve talk of lesbians and dildos and crumpet munching and the next part is still very clear in my mind. The show culminated with Frieda/Annie/Sunny stripped naked on stage, painting her face and body with her menstrual blood, which she had conveniently saved in a jar, and handing out home made maracas made from two plastic coffee cups sticky taped together with rice inside to the audience for us to shake to a hypnotic rhythm while she swayed and gyrated to an almost hands free screaming orgasm on stage, she then invited those wished to come forward and bathe in the ambiance of her orgasm and the show came to an end.

Looking around, my Mum, had eye’s like saucers, my Aunty who arranged the tickets was making excuses that she thought it was a show about a painter and had no idea, my Uncle (who was actually a Doctor) was looking positively ill and my other Aunty and Uncle, where missing in action. Apparently, my Aunty who had come across from Perth couldn’t take anymore at one stage during the show and had run from the room and my Uncle (not her hubby but, married to the one who bought the tickets) had followed her out to make sure she was ok (aka ran like a frightened child). My girl friend was seeing the funny side of things and was laughing that she couldn’t believe I had to sit through that with my Mum and was proud of me for not running from the room also.

To end the night, we decided to grab a late night super in China Town. My Uncle’s favorite Chinese restaurant was in walking distance, so we headed in and got a big table. To make things easy, he ordered a Peking Duck for the table as it is an easy to share type of meal. My new girl friend piped up, that she didn’t eat duck. This wasn’t for any health or taste reason. It was on moral grounds, she had had a pet duck as a child, that she loved very much and didn’t want to eat them. But, she didn’t object to others eating duck and wasn’t that hungry so would wait for the main course.

The Duck skin in pancakes, with the shallots, cucumber and Hoisin sauce was delicious and when the San Choy Bou came out, we all tucked in, including the girl friend. What she hadn’t realized was that the San Choy Bou was made using the duck meat (the first course only used the skin). It was only after she had stated how tasty she found it, that my Uncle suggested she might have to revise her moratorium on eating duck.

And thus, the date was ruined when my family tricked my new girlfriend into eating duck meat.

TLDR: Introduces new girl friend to mum, makes her watch live porn and force feeds her duck
(, Mon 21 Oct 2013, 5:17, 4 replies)

This question is now closed.

Pages: Popular, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1