Datemares (vol. 2)
In volume 1 of Datemares, we ran into cheating pricks who use Venmo as a last ditch effort, angry-because-they-like-other-boys Republicans, and Paul. In today's second installment, we're dealing with premature fetishes, drunken pissers, and scab-picking tree lovers. Whether you're ready or not, here it is.
We met at a friend’s house party. He seemed cool enough, dressed well and had a touch of mystery, which I really liked. We proceeded to talk and exchange numbers. Fast forward to a week later, and we're going on our first date. We agreed that after dinner, we’d come back to my place to watch "The Walking Dead" with my roommate. So, after a really nice dinner in which he picked up the check without flinching (points!), we made it back to my place to snuggle up on the couch together. My roommate wasn’t home yet from her plans, so one thing led to another and we started making out. In the middle of our session, he stopped me and breathily asked:
“Do you have any panty hose?”
Completely thrown off guard, I answered his odd query with “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I have some…..”
His eyes lit up as he then asked, “Could you go put them on?”
Wait. What? Suddenly I was questioning my life choices very hard. “I mean, they're old and have a lot of holes….?”
“I don’t care about holes. Panty hose are SO sexy. Will you please put them on?” The desire in his voice was jarring.
“But. The holes. I? Um.”
Needless to say, I did not put on the hole-y panty hose. And also needless to say, that was the last time I saw him. I get that people have all kinds of fetishes, but maybe they're better saved for a time that ISN'T a first date?!
emma's reaction: Oh wow. Talk about coming on strong. Good lord. That's some shit you pull out once you're committed, right? Get the title locked in, then you can lob kinky curveballs at each other until one of you decides to just walk-off and bench yourself indefinitely. Until then though, perhaps the first time you ever even make out isn't the best time to explore fantasies? Just a hunch.
I matched with this guy on Tinder, and we met up a couple of times. He seemed nice and normal, so much so that on the second date I had invited him to my apartment to watch TV, which went over well. Then, the third time we hung out, I met him at a bar near my apartment. I instantly picked up on just how much he was drinking, so I stuck with water to be on the safe side. After buying a few rounds of Jägerbombs for the ENTIRE bar, he decided he was going to drive himself home. I quickly tried to persuade him to Uber or let me drive him home, but he was very adamant about driving himself even though he could hardly walk. Thankfully, I managed to talk him into letting me drive his car to my apartment to sober up. We hopped in his car, and I started driving when he whipped out a to-go container of spaghetti. WHAT? I have no idea where it came from. It appeared out of thin air. Alas, he sat there in the passenger seat eating this mysterious container of to-go spaghetti with his hands. At one point, I had to take a sharp turn, and the container tumbled into my lap, spilling spaghetti all over me. I picked up the pile and threw it back into his lap, but he was not the least bit phased and continued eating the spaghetti BY HAND from his crotch.
We arrived at my place, and he went straight into my room where he stripped butt ass naked and hopped into my bed. Seeing as we hadn't hooked up or seen each other naked at all, this was adding to the awkwardness of the whole night. But he was so plastered, I couldn't reason with him. So, I grabbed a separate blanket, curled up to the edge of the bed (i.e. as far away from him as possible), and went to sleep. About an hour later, I woke up to him moving around my room messing with my blinds. I was trying to figure out wtf he was doing when he suddenly started walking toward the bathroom. But before he made it there, he abruptly stopped, took his dick out, and pissed on my carpeted bedroom floor.
I sat there in complete shock, knowing I couldn't react because the guy was so drunk, I was scared what reacting would do. So I waited for him to go back to sleep, grabbed my phone, and ran to the living room to call and wake up my mom for guidance. She laughed and then hung up on me (so helpful). Helpless, I covered the pee spot with a towel and went back to sleep. When he woke up the next morning, I told him what had happened and, OF COURSE, he didn’t believe me. He ran to his car to grab a charger for his phone, came back with a warm beer he had found in his car, and began drinking it. I quickly realized I was dealing with a legitimate alcoholic and needed to get him the FO of my place. Thankfully, he had to head out for work, leaving me to clean up his piss. This dude then had the balls to call me and ask if I had taken money from his wallet while he was asleep?!?! I didn't, but wish I had for a carpet cleaning. Worst. Date. Ever.
emma's reaction: First and perhaps most importantly, that you were proactive enough in your situation to snap these photos for evidence is literally amazing. I am stunned. Shocked. Horrified. All the things. What a shit show. I get why you sort of took the "grin and bear it" approach, but I wish you could've gotten away from him so much sooner. Also, can we break down the spaghetti picture (which is simultaneously the best and worst thing I've ever seen)? Why is he also holding his charger? And is he asleep? Because his stance and barely-open mouth look in no way ready to ingest that spilled spaghetti that you just lugged back onto him. Rather, it looks like he's going to be stuck in that exact position forever because he's in a deep slumber. I'm so sorry you had to go through this, but very happy for you that you have such a clutch one-upping story from now until the end of time. "Oh you think THAT'S bad?" is your new tagline.
We caught each other's eyes from across a U-shaped bar. Usually I chicken out and look away really quickly when this happens, but I was practicing being bold and looked him square in the eye and smiled. He smiled back. He walked over to start a conversation. It was short but ended up with us exchanging numbers. From the outside, he looked like a businessman on the up-and-up. He was dressed nicely and seemed able to carry on a conversation. I should have known from the get-go that if someone was actually giving me their number at a bar, it was too good to be true. I would go out weekend after weekend with my girlfriends hoping this would happen. Because it actually happened, I should have known it was a red flag. He texted me the next day and asked if I wanted to meet for Sunday brunch. Another red flag. I mean, how often does a bar introduction actually end up in a date? But I accepted. When we met at the restaurant for brunch, he was no longer the "businessman" I had met the night before, but rather a schlub who had rolled out of bed and taken practically no time to groom before a first date, donning track pants and an undershirt. Here is what ensued:
As we were waiting for our food, he wasted no time diving into a discussion about his ex-girlfriend and how she was the love of his life. He went on about her for at least 15 minutes and would continue to drop her into the conversation throughout the couple of hours we were together. I asked him why he was out on a date with me if he was still hung up on this woman. He shrugged it off in a way that led me to believe he was just out with me to fill his time, but that he never had any intention of asking me out for actual dating purposes. He did this in a way, of course, that made it seem like I had a problem for even asking that logical question.
Throughout the meal, he kept scratching at scabs on his arm (🤢), which is disgusting enough, but then when he noticed me staring at this, he explained that they were spider bites. He said the room he was renting was made of glass and surrounded by trees and plants and that he didn't believe in pest control (🤢🤮). This brought him to his ultimate revelation. He said that every once in awhile, he liked to commune with nature. Okay, that's fine. I mean, people go camping and hiking all the time to commune with nature. But as I was learning on this "date," those activities would be too normal for this guy. His way of communing with nature was by dressing all in black, going to one of Houston's main and biggest parks at night, and sleeping in a tree. I assume he dressed in black so he wouldn't be caught by the cops? He said he did this every few months.
You can't make this shit up, people.
At this point in the story, I know what you're thinking — why didn't you just get up and leave? Why would you stick around for this weirdness? Well, I'm a glutton for punishment and the worse it got, the better a story it was becoming. I wanted to see this shit show through to the end.
I can't remember how the topic of drugs came up. I want to think I could tell he was on something and called him out on it, but I don't recall. The important thing is that he informed me about 3/4 of the way through brunch that he had done a little somethin' somethin' before he arrived, and he was really feeling it. I have to think from his weird ass behavior, it was something a bit stronger than weed. Brunch came to its logical and rightful end. I thought, "Excellent, I can get out of here and salvage my day." But he asked if I wanted to go to a bar. A bar on a Sunday morning? That was weird. To me, anyway. But for the sake of my anthropological mission of dating in the wild, I decided to go and then extract myself once he got distracted, which for some reason, I knew he would.
When I got to the bar, I immediately excused myself to go to the restroom. When I returned, two girls were sitting at our table with him. He saw my look of surprise but it didn't faze him in the slightest. He explained that he invited them to sit because we were occupying a table for four and were only two and there wasn't room for them anywhere else. Excuse me? It's a bar! People stand up at bars all the freaking time! That's how he and I met! There was no sign of the girls leaving, which was fate really because he was distracted enough for me to make my exit. I said I had to take off, and he offered to walk me to my car. I declined, and he said he was leaving anyway because he wanted to go home and do more of whatever drug he had done that morning before meeting me. He told the bartender to keep his credit card because he would be back soon to continue his revelry. I don't remember how we left things, but I think I said something to the effect of: "This was interesting, and we probably won't be doing it again." When I got home, he had already texted me some inane question meant to engage me in conversation. I ignored it and thankfully never heard from him again.
emma's reaction: Talk about meeting a solid 8 then seeing him in daylight and realizing he's barely a 1. I'm so sorry but also so pleased you did a solid for womankind (and now my blog) by toughing it out to the bitter end, resulting in an exceptionally entertaining story. It's not often that I describe someone as both a whackadoo AND a douche bag, but this guy has it ALL! And for some reason, I have this feeling that he didn't smell very good. And probably doesn't floss his teeth. I don't know how long ago this was, but I wonder if he stills communes with nature. If so, wouldn't it be a gas to find him in said park one night, up in a tree, and provoke him with animal calls and torn up pieces of bread? You should.
So, what did we learn here today?
1: A first date with "The Walking Dead" in the background isn't the best time to whip out your fetishes. Maybe if it had been "Nip/Tuck" or "Taxi Cab Confessions."
2: If he buys Jägerbombs for himself and especially the entire bar, it could be your only window to escape. And you should. FAST.
3: A meet-cute can turn into a why-the-fuck-did-I-think-this-dude-was-cute overnight.
I'm never not taking dating horror story submissions from men AND women, so email me yours (emmasthing @ gmail)!
Until then, stay safe and stay away from all you've seen here today.