Tag Archives: disaster date

2 Lessons From The Bad Lychee Date…

The Lychee Nut…

Lychee Nut An odd and truly unique flavor. A flavor that until a few years ago I had never tasted. And more importantly for this story, a flavor that will forever be tainted with a disaster date. A date so bad it caused me to dramatically re-evaluate two important dating assumptions.

The story unfolds…

It’s 4 years ago. And much to chagrin of my future self, I think that posting dating ads on Craigslist is a good way to meet women. (No this is not one of the lessons I learned from the date that follows unfortunately.)

A quick aside: Craigslist is good, even great, for many things.

  • Finding great apartments for rent: Check!
  • Finding furniture: Check!
  • Finding non-crazy individuals for dating: Ugh, not so much…

In any case, I’ve just written and posted one of my personal ads. And I like the responses I’m getting. An email comes in from “Jill” (honestly I really don’t remember her name). Her response is passionate, intelligent and intriguing. She mentions that she is Chinese-American and seemed very eager to learn and share more about her culture.

(A bit of background: at this time in my dating life, I rather foolishly believed that I didn’t need to see a photo of someone before I met them in person. This hypothesis was founded mostly on the fact that I was tired of getting emails from Craigslisters with one sentence “Do you have a pic?” So my goal was to try to focus on who the person was outside of a photo. As you will see, this was not a good idea…for both of us.)

We move from talking over email to the phone rather quickly. The problem quickly becomes that she doesn’t seem to want to do more than talk on the phone. Herein approaches the first lesson the lychee date taught me.

(At this time, I really didn’t have a problem spending a long time on the phone with someone before we went out. That would change utterly.)

Everytime I say, “when can we actually meet?”, she says, “I’d like to talk more on the phone…is that ok?” I agree and our conversations are pretty good. She tells me about her recent trips to China. What real Chinese food is like. What lychee nuts are and how they taste. How they have holes in the ground for toilets in the rural areas where she stayed. Really interesting stuff.

Six weeks (I wish were kidding) pass. I really feel like I know this girl and that we have great chemistry. Of course, we haven’t exchanged pictures and we haven’t met in person. But then, miraculously…

…the date arrives.

The foundations of lesson #2 are laid while setting the date up. Jill says that she leaves near me and she can pick me up. Hmmm. Sure. Why not?

The time of the date arrives. I’m waiting outside my place. The car pulls up. A Honda with a sullen Asian girl inside, it stops. The driver, Jill looks over at me. Honestly I was definitely feeling disappointment. I didn’t find her attractive and from my reading of her, the feeling was mutual. The passenger door props open.

I walk over. Sit myself in. Before I can shake her hand, give her a hug or even put on my seatbelt, the Honda jerks forward and is off. I steady myself and belt up.

“Hi. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I say, trying to make the best of it.

The radio is on. She turns the music up.

How bad was it?

Have you ever had a date that you knew was going south in the first 3 minutes? Did you say something?

A minute after she turns up the radio, the level of awkwardly leveled disgust coming from the driver of the car prompts me to say, “If this doesn’t seem like a good fit, we can turn back around.”

She speaks, “No. No. I just need to focus on driving. I brought you some lychee nuts.”

I stare straight ahead and try to ignore the fact that the next 2 hours are going to the dating equivalent of waterboarding. (It’s the same feeling you have when your friends talk you into see Patch Adams and you know it’s gonna suck; you just don’t know how much it really does. Two hours later, you’re craving a bulk erase tablet for the night.)

The date continues…

She speaks to me during the drive to the restaurant as often as someone for whom words are very expensive and sentences even more expensive.

She puts the Honda in park. Awkwardness. Anger. Hostility. They’re all boiling up inside of me. Once again, I try to end it mercifully. “This doesn’t seem to be working. Why don’t you drop me back home?”

“Oh no. Now I’ve parked and I don’t have to focus on driving.”

I think to myself, “please kill me now or God, give me the power to fast forward.”

None of those happen. The next two hours, spent at the most awesome restaurant in San Diego, she manages to ruin it up. It takes real work not to enjoy yourself at this restaurant but somehow she does it with great aplomb.

For the next two hours, very few works are exchanged and I truly feel the misery that is the life of the unhappily marrieds. The folks who sit at Denny’s or Hometown Buffet and whose glares of contempt bore through each others skulls. I feel the misery of a truly God awful date.

The merciful end…

The Honda pulls up pretty much exactly where it had at the beginning of the night. I flee the car as fast as I can. I don’t say goodbye. A voice comes from within the Honda as I sprint to my house…

“Don’t forget your lychees.”

I freeze. Should I get them or not?

I walk over. Snatch the lychees out of the passenger seat.

Get into my house. Take said lychees to the trash receptacle in the garage. Throw said lychees in the trash.

Lessons Learned…

The lessons for me for the lychee date that I learned immediately after, were and still are:

  1. Don’t talk on the phone for more than 1 time. Real chemistry is only determined in person.
  2. Never, never, never, never have someone else drive you to a blind date. Ever. Ever. Ever.

A gem of a bad date from someone else…

This is just a quick story I heard from a girl I dated briefly. It’s just amazingly bizarre and odd.

A disaster date…

So a few months before this girl (let’s call her Laura) and I had met, she had gone out on a few dates with this guy (let’s call him Bill). Bill seemed to be interesting enough and there seemed to be a decent amount of chemistry.

They were on their fourth or fifth date. He had just made dinner and things were going well. They were sitting on the couch, on the verge of a major makeout session. Or so it seemed…

The date takes a turn…

He leaned in close to her on the couch. She readied herself for a kiss. Instead his lips glided next to her ears.

“Tell me your darkest, deepest secret,” he said.

“Excuse me,” she stammered as she recoiled from the couch.

He kept his position and with a sly smile on his face repeated the demand, “Tell me your darkest, deepest secret.”

Her face twisted and contorted trying to figure out what the f*** he was talking about.

Laura finally managed to get out, “Um. No. We’ve only known each other for a few days.”

The point of the awkwardness…

It was then, that Bill finally came out and decided to reveal himself someone into…

S&M HandcuffsThat’s right. Bill’s awkward, creepy and vaguely menacing request was his way of seeing if Laura was into S&M.

And not only that but he was so clearly not reading her reactions (disgust, confusion, disquiet) that he continued on in gory detail about how his ex-girlfriend had loved to tie him up. How his ex-girlfriend had loved to be tied up. How his ex-girlfriend loved to be whipped. And so on and so forth.

Bill was so concentrated into describing this great relationship that he barely noticed as Laura had made her way to the door.

Before she closed the door on his apartment and any chance of a relationship, she said, “Never, ever call me again.”

Disaster Date # 1: The anti-Semite alcoholic (Part II)…

(Part II of the anti-Semite alcoholic story started here)

She proceeds to describe both of her brothers-in-law. First…

Brother-In-Law #1

She started in, “My youngest sisters, she married an awful man. He’s really pushy. Really disrespectful.”

Then the first brick fell loose in the wall that was our date.

“He’s an arab.”

At this point, my oddness senses were ringing a little louder.

Really loud in fact. I mean, I guess you could describe someone as an arab but most normal people wouldn’t. It’s a very weird way to describe someone.

Then she came out with the doosie of the date. The thing that puts the “bam” in the date.

Brother-In-Law #2

“I really hate the other guy my sister married. He’s terrible. So pushy. So opinionated. And cheap. Really God damned cheap.”

I think you can see where this is going.

She rested her nearly finished vodka martini on the bar. Leaned in to make sure no one else could hear. She spoke in hushed tones.

“He’s a Jew.”

At this point, my oddness senses were screaming. The date was over. She may not have known it yet but it was over in my mind.

The she leaned back, took a final sip of her vodka martini and said inquisitely, “You’re not a Jew are you?”

“Um. No I’m not.”

She couldn’t leave it well enough alone. “I have nothing against Jews mind you. I mean I think they’re God’s chosen people.”

I just want to summarize and put on the table what issues she had revealed at this point:

  1. Problem with alcohol and/or discomfort with it.
  2. Dislike of arabs and a desire to label people based on their ethnicity.
  3. A love/hate relationships with Jews. She thinks they’re cheap and obnoxious but God chose them. If she really did feel they were God’s chosen people, one has to ask why she wasn’t a Jew. (Don’t think about it too long. It will hurt your head.)

One last gift of weirdness…

I really just wanted to be polite at this point and speed through the rest of the date as quickly as possible. I paid for drinks. We were about to head out for La Jolla Cove when she asked, “Do you feel comfortable with me driving?” (Again with the drinking.)

“Sure. You know if you’re ok to drive.”

She: “Oh yeah. I drive best when I’m drunk anyhow.”

My head almost exploded. WTF?

Me: “I’m driving.”

I made sure our jaunt to the cove lasted 10 minutes and I vowed to never see her again.

PS

This was in the days when I thought giving unasked for feedback was a good idea. It isn’t and I wouldn’t do it again. But foolishly I wrote her an email explaining how her constant tension over alcohol made me uncomfortable and also how her anti-semitism was very disturbing.

Her note back: “I’m sorry you misunderstood my comments on drinking and Jews. I think they’re God’s chosen people so I don’t bear them any ill-will.”

Wow. Wow. Wow.

Disaster Date # 1: The anti-Semite alcoholic (Part I)…

Ok. So in my experience, there are four distinct ways a date can go…

  1. Super, crazy awesome–a date like a Van Morrison song. You’re attracted to her on a deep, meaningful level. She’s attracted to you on that same level. The prospect of a second date keeps you up at night with excitement and the good kind of “nerves.”
  2. Respectable–this is a date where you’re not “coo coo for cocoa puffs” but it was nice. You both enjoyed yourself. Maybe there’s a really strong intellectual, emotional or physical connection and you’re down for a second date.
  3. Boring–one or more of the people on the date just aren’t feeling it. You’re both nice people but there’s no spark, physically or emotionally. This is the way most dates play out.
  4. Complete fucking disaster–so horrible, so scarring, so debauched that you really need to not go out on another date for week or two after. Really fucking terrible. Very few dates rise to this level but when they do, they’re great stories. I repeat GREAT STORIES.

Which brings me to my current tale…

…the anti-Semite alcoholic.

Rewind to four years ago. I was doing speed dating every. Speed dating is a decent idea on paper; in reality, it’s a bad idea. Ineffective. Poorly run.

What Is Speed Dating?

For those of you who haven’t tried speed dating or heard about what it entails. Here goes…

…there are x number of men and x number of women at each event. Ostensibly they are single. Every x minutes (usually 5), a buzzer is rung and men have to switch tables and sit next to a different woman. Within these 5 minutes, you’re supposed to make up your mind about whether you’d like to go out with this woman and she with you.

At the end of the night, you create a little tally of the folks you’d like to see again and submit it online or with the person running the event. With that explained, I’ll explain how I met the anti-Semite alcy I have built up so much.

“Hey, why not?”

A lot of very bad ideas have started with this premise and my encounter with Ms. Alcy was no different.

You see, I had met Ms. Alcy once before at another speed dating event. When I tallied my matches, I had decided not to mark her as a “yes, I want to see her again.” Nothing visibly wrong. I just didn’t feel a chemistry.

After seeing the list of women who matched me but that I hadn’t matched, I saw her name. She clearly felt more strongly than I did.

The next speed dating event…

I arrived at the next speed dating event and lo and behold, she was there. The conversation was pleasant and I said to myself, “Hey, why not?”

I marked her as a “yes” and she did as well. We went for a quick lunch on a weekday in Old Town. I have to say, honestly it was pleasant. Nothing odd. Nothing unusual. But pleasant. We made plans to grab dinner at TGI Friday’s and then hang out in La Jolla Cove. I was looking forward to it. She seemed to be as well. Little did I know that…

…the second date would turn in a titanic-style disaster movie.

In the week following our first date and before our second date, she had called me and said, “Hey can we skip dinner and just do drinks. It’s been a tight week financially.” A very reasonable request.

The night of the second date. We arrived at TGI Fridays. We sat at the bar. I ordered a non-alcoholic beer because well, I like non-alcoholic beers. And I didn’t really want to drink too much. The moment the words slipped my lips about my choice of beverage, she said, “Boy you’re going to hate me now.”

My head spun a bit and before I can ask for clarification, she ordered a vodka martini. I asked her for clarification but she demurred and didn’t really answer the question. At this point, my oddness sensors were buzzing on vibrate.

But the conversation went on. I noticed that there’s constant references to alcohol. And there seemed to be some tension about it. I made a mental note about it and went on with the date.

Then the topic of her two younger sisters came up. She clearly disapproved very strongly of their choice of mate. It was with these two revelations where the date went from…

…boring date to complete fucking disaster.