Speeddate.com - A chalk full of fucking weirdo's

            In a desperate attempt to capitalize on the lonely at heart, some genius decided to develop a dating website that allows you to communicate for free with people for 5 minutes (unless you are dumb enough to pay for a subscription, then you get more time) similar to a speed dating session. You also get the option to send 1 message to someone, to which if they respond, you must subscribe to read.   I have never been an advocate that singles should ever have to pay to communicate with potential partners, however  I decided to check this site out to see how legit it actually was.

            The problem with this site is that just about anyone from all walks of life and all areas of the planet can message you.  After having a drunken St. Patrick's day revelation paired with almost a year of yearning for someone who lives out of state, I realized falling for/chasing anyone that lives outside of an hour radius of you is about as useless as a limp dick.  Yet on this site, it is chalk full of people that are hopeful that some stupid girl will travel to the ends of the earth for love.  I would not be surprised if the ID channel had enough material based on this website to create an entire series based on hopelessly romantic people that actually have traveled out of state to meet people "offline".

            I would now care to share with you some of the messages that I received from this website, proving yet again, another website that is an epic fail in connecting normal singles to one another.

63/M/Baltimore, MD

would Love to get to know you better.

Dear Gramps:

            It's not your message that creeped me out, it was simply the fact that you seem to think I have some sort of "Anna Nicole" look about me, which if anything is quite insulting.  You have officially became the oldest man to message me on a dating website.  Not that this is much of an accomplishment, I will say I am quite impressed that: 1. You actually know how to use a computer without the help of your immediate family members, 2. You managed to upload a picture of yourself showcasing how many wars you have witnessed and 3. You still have big, (yet I don't want to imagine how wrinkly they are) balls to message someone who is old enough to be your daughter.  I'm sorry that things at the senior center are not working for you when it comes to finding you a partner that you can share the rest of your short life with, but where manthers preying on girl my age are terrible, grandmathers preying on girls my age are just terrifying.  I'm sure that in your search you will find some young dumb gold digging tramp that will bite and take full advantage of your pension and manipulate you to change your will, however where I have very loose morals to begin with, I'd much rather take my chances sleeping  with a guy that can't get it up due to alcohol consumption, rather than can't get it up without the usage of Viagra. 

21/M/Brandford Canada

Hey, what color underwear are you wearing?

Dear Polly Panty -

            I'm glad that with all that is wrong with the world, your focus is not my stance on the homeless, world peace, or birth control - your inquiring mind wants to know what color underwear I am wearing.  I can understand why you resort to online dating to meet women.  Clearly, this line has probably gotten you smacked in the face, kicked in the nuts and/or resulted in a pepper spraying incident when you tried it at the bar.  At what point did you think it would be good to try it on a dating website?  Idolizing Glenn Quagmire is not a positive life goal.   I don't know if Canadian women are just that easy, dumb or desperate, but in the US, that line wouldn't even work on a Hill District prostitute.  I had a friend who dated a guy that she caught sniffing her underwear, I can only imagine that you are a distant relative of his.  You may want to consider your sexuality, considering you may be the only "straight" guy on this planet that is concerned if I color coordinate undergarments.  It makes me wonder, if I would of replied "what is underwear" if you would of instantly nutted in your pants, or if your dong would of inverted back in to your stomach. 

19/M/Churchill, NY

hey sëxy, do you want a young online sëx slave???

Dear Mr. Slave -

    I'm not seeing the benefit to having a young online sex slave.  1. You are 19 years old, if I wanted something with tiny nuts that needed trained, I'd much rather invest in a baby squirrel.  The fact that you are so young, and offering up your penis to me on a cyber plate, leads me to think that you have more mental issues than the cracked out version of Charlie Sheen.  I must have missed the memo that cyber sex was cool again?  I am intrigued as to how you would be my slave via a computer.  Would that mean you would try to stick your dick in the webcam?  Or would you stroke your mouse in a sexual way while licking a lollypop?  I'm still not seeing how this would be beneficial.  Where it would be quite entertaining to see what exactly outrageous, demoralizing things I would make you do, watching a baseball player scratch his balls is more of a turn on.  I think you will have better luck finding a dominant on Chat Roulette. I have better things to do with my life and with my vibrator than waste any AA's on this conversation.

42/M/Johnstown, PA

hello Shelby, I must confress, your profile has really captured my attention and i will love to share in the joy of your life, in fact i want to get to know you if you don't mind. I will be glad if we get to know each other and become friends. You never know we could become the success story as in good couples. I want to fine someone to be in good relationship with that right person. Love is not about finding a person, but creating a right relationship. It's not about how much love you have in the beginning, but how much love you buid till the end. A relationship is a two way street. It's never all your fault or the other person. If your are interested...... Send back so we can learn to know each other. Hope to hear from you soon.

Dear Sammy Sensitive -

    I'm sad for you that you are 42 years old and your balls still have yet to drop.  I get that since you are a bit older than me, that you may have more worldly knowledge, however with all the bullshit about love that you wrote in this message, and the fact that you are on an online dating website looking for it, leads me to believe that you do not know your ass from a hole in the ground.  Watching the Lifetime network every chance you get will not help you find "the one", nor will it help you better understand what women want.  It sounds to me like you want to be featured on an episode of "A Wedding Story."   It's clear you have never been married, because where a relationship may be a "2 way street", a marriage is a mutiny.    Once you get married, as a male, all of your opinions are invalid and you are always wrong, and sex is withheld until you realize it's her way or the highway.  Just like there is no crying in baseball, there is no reasoning in marriage.  I learned at 18 that fairy tales don't  exists, does Disney need to make a happy endingless fairy tale just for you to get the point?

33/Pittsburgh, PA

well to be fair to all of the men, you make it difficult to not think about sex the way you fill those jeans. :) How you doin?

Dear Dr. Douche

      Well to be fair to all women, do you really think I'm going to engage in any conversation with you considering you use the terms "fill those jeans" and "sex" in the same sentence.  Your about as smooth as a rock garden.   From 2 sentences I have already decided that you are 1 of 2 types of guys.  Type #1: Below average looking guy that thinks he's hotter than what he is due to surrounding himself with women that have already rejected him but keep them as "best friends".   You keep these girls around to boost your ego so that when you talk to women online (which is your only means of communicating with them), you feel confident in saying, "well my girl friends think I'm attractive. This leads you to believe that you do not in fact come off like a total creeper but a "cute" guy because you have "friends" lying to you to give you a sense of false confidence.  Type #2:  You got a lot of tail in your hay day and are realizing that you are getting older, less attractive and 18 year old girls aren't in to you as much as they used to be.    You nonchalant try to play off sexual innuendos with the hopes that it will come off as a compliment, not knowing that it makes you look weird and unknowingly showcases your ass fetish.  Your track record probably consists of girls that are butter faces, because you are at the point in your life where you are so lonely and desperate that you will stick it in any available hole that walks your way. 

19/M/Joliet, IL

aye:)

        

Dear Captain Ghetto-

     Judging by the 1 profile picture that you have posted that shows your backwards hat, well trimmed facial hair and tattoo on your neck, I'm going to guess that you are either culturally confused or your profession as a wigger pirate isn't getting you anywhere at all with the wenches.    Fortunately for you, you have time to 1. Go to college, 2. grow out of your Fubu wearing, West Coast rapper stage and 3. Make English your primary language and make Pirate Ebonics a hobby.  Where it may have been cool when I was 18 years old, the thrill of that is gone.  The only gangster in my life involves rap music on my Ipod.  The lame smiley face you put after your one word introduction leads me to believe that you probably think you are being cute when in reality it should be a crime worthy of firing squad.  I'm sure you think running the drug operation out of the Burger King that you work at may make you cool, but it really just makes you look pathetic.  Since you must be 18 to be on Speedate, maybe you should cancel your membership and go trolling the local malls for a 16 year old girl with daddy issues. Being that you are of legal age, you can be their parental escort to see the next Pirates of the Caribbean movie where you can "spit some game" and compare your life to that of Johnny Depp's imaginary character. 

38/M/Sewickley, PA

I want to put my cock in your mouth

Dear Dicky Do Da -

            Wow you are quite the class act.  Let me put it this way friend, you can want in one hand and shit in the other and see which one gets filled up first.  Maybe instead of relying on you porn fantasies and internet dating sites, you should stick to what you know best: hookers and strip clubs.  You clearly suffer from an extreme case of "cock envy" where you think that every girl with a mouth wants your potentially diseased dick in it.  My only curiosity to see your penis would be to witness how much skin you have rubbed off it from jacking off to one too many lipstick commercials, because I'm going to assume you don't get out much.  You would be better off setting up a glory hole in a women's rest top on route 79 than attempting to romance a female.  You are probably single because any relationship that you have had, rather than presents on holidays you probably tied a ribbon around your cock and considered it a "gift".  Where I understand that a blow job is the sentimental equivalent of receiving flowers and clearly you put your penis on a pedestal, I am sure there is a girl out there that find this appealing and allow you to put your cock in her mouth.   I also hope that she rakes the hell out of it, draws blood, and you scream like a little bitch, or you get herpes...I'd be ok with either outcome. 

Keeping it real -

Shelby

The Plenty of Fish Dance Experience

                A couple of weeks ago, I realized that I have a self diagnosed case of a "1/3 of a life crisis."  Even though I have over 6 months to go, during a drunken moment of clarity, I realized that my life is not even close to where I thought it would be.  Where I have a great job, financially stable, and no baggage, I always thought by this point in my life I would have someone to share things with, be a home owner, maybe a couple of kids and a dog, you know livin' the dream.  Since that moment, I had days where I was depressed, disconnecting myself from my friends, letting stupid things at work get to me, and even almost bought a new car with the hopes of giving myself a false sense of meaning.  I was hoping it was just me PMSing, however when it lasted longer than 2 weeks, I knew something was up.  Fortunately for me, with the help of friends and Vodka,  I was able to snap out of my funk.

                You see my love life has dwindled in to next to nothing lately.  The only guys that contact me are ones that think I'm going to invite them over to hang out at 1 am.  Were I used to be flattered, it has just become a total turn off, considering  I know they only want 1 thing.  As a test, I always ask these guys if they would much rather do things like go out to dinner on another day, or go out in public for that matter to confirm my suspicions.  The minute they laugh me off, or say no or suggest we go "drinking", that is when the attraction gets turned off for me, and any texts after that are just plain annoying and I become the one saying "No, thank you."

                One random Friday Night not too long ago (if you are my FB friend then you know exactly when it was), I was sitting at home alone, debating on whether  or not to make my way to the casino, alone...to throw my money away in a desperate attempt to make myself feel better.  That is when I got a picture text from Maria that changed the course of my Friday night.

                For whatever reason, she had sent me a picture of a Plenty of Fish Dance invite that was taking place in Carnegie.  Knowing that I had been down in the dumps, she immediately called me and wanted to see if I wanted to go, knowing it would end up turning in to great blog material.  Boy was she right....  Looking at the guests that RSVP, the average age range was roughly 50.  Knowing what we were getting ourselves in to, we decided to run with it.  I put on a cute little party dress, made my way to Maria's and with Maria's boyfriend, Kevin at the ready, we made our way to Carnegie.

                As we pulled up to the designated location, we immediately discovered that this "dance" was in a church banquet hall.  Finding it interesting, we noticed that that parking lot was full.  As Maria, Kevin and I tried to figure out if there were actually a lot of people at this event, or if it was the "Kamakazie's" effect, we made our way to the door.

                side note:  The Kamakazie's effect is based on a bar in WV that we used to go to growing up.  Every time we would go there, the parking lot would be full, yet when we would walk inside there would be 20 people in the bar.   This meant that those 20 people would drive themselves to the bar, giving off the illusion to people driving past that the place was busy, when in fact it wasn't.

                As we entered the door, we were greeted by an older gentleman with gray hair.  Looking around the room, I instantly felt like I was in a real life AARP advertisement.  The median age of the 60 people at this dance was roughly 55.   As we paid the $8.00 cover, the gray haired gentleman then directed us to a table to sign up for "door prizes."  The door prize table consisted of the following: an $8.99 bottle of Yellow tail Wine, a plate of cookies someone baked, a gift card to some unknown place, and an AM/FM digital clock radio.  I was all for the clock radio, I mean come on you can never have one too many.

                Looking around the room, it was set up like a typical church hall Beaver County wedding.  There were round tables that sat 8 people, had table cloths and chips/cookies on them, and did I mention it was in a church banquet hall?  All eyes were on us as we searched for a 3 seats, together, preferably at an empty table.   Very rarely do I ever get uncomfortable about anything, however this was probably the first time in my life that I felt uncomfortable making heads turn.  As I watched the Cougars, Obese Woman and Grandcougars scowl at us, the Gray Haired men, Manther's  and real life versions of Glenn Quagmires were licking their lips as if their 4:30 dinner included free Apple Pie. 

                With 70s music blaring, and most of the geriatric parade out on the dance floor, we found an empty table (or so we thought) that was near the back of the room.  We sat down when out of nowhere a 50 something blonde hair women sits down.  Looking at us as if we were a threat to her chances of getting laid, she meanly told us that all the seats were taken.   We then proceeded to find a table in the very back of the room, sitting with two women, who turned out to be the coolest people ever.

                Their names were M and B (names have been shortened for privacy reasons).  B had just recently gotten out of a relationship and M was single, but more there for moral support.  I would guess they were in their mid to late 50s. Immediately I started asking them questions about POF and how they felt about it.  This was a BYOB event, so Maria brought some wine and we began the "getting to know our new friends" process.   That's when the excitement started...

                Within 20 minutes of being there, the DJ slowed it down, with some great slow songs from the 60s.  As we watched the parade make its way to the dance floor, we noticed that there was a lot of slow dancing going on.  Being the old man to old woman ratio was about 1 guy for every 4 women, by the first set of slow songs, looking around the room, there were only about 4 guys not dancing.  Once the Dj put on some more 70s music, Maria, Kevin and myself made our way to the dance floor.

                Kevin had decided not to reveal himself as a paramedic, in case there was a heart attack or a hip breaking incident because it was his first night off in a while, so if anyone asked, he sold insurance...car insurance and that was the story.  In order to prevent any turf wars with the cougars, Maria and I decided rather than to shake our asses like strippers, we would dumb ourselves down and do dances like the twist, and the sprinkler.  For once, not drawing attention to ourselves was the name of the game.  At one point I was convinced the DJ was conspiring against us, because he would play a song like "Staying Alive" and then switch things up to "Ridin' Solo."  I've accomplished some things in my life, but no one will ever understand how fucking hard it is to do the twist to a contemporary ass shaking song. 

                After 5 dance songs, the DJ played more slow ones, convincing myself that I was not at a singles mixer anymore, but I was at a wedding.  Our group of 5 decided to reclaim our table and sit out "Ladies Choice."  Upon arriving back at our table, our 2 new friends were greeted by a younger guy (who turned out to be 35) but he had the beard of a lumber jack and the body of a semi pro professional eater.  He took a liking to M.  The proceeded to chat each other up for a good 10 minutes, before we excused ourselves to go outside to cool off from the room that was filled with the stench of old spice and moth balls.  M and B joined us shortly after with their new "friend."  After he left, M proceeds to tell us about their conversation.  This "fellow" POF'er told her in the middle of their conversation that he would love to take her out sometime, but only if he could suck on her toes later...

                Trying not to laugh, I revealed the true reason that I was at this event.  I told them about this blog and how I enjoy exposing how stupid people can be.  They thought it was great, and we proceeded to exchange our stories about messages that we received, dates we had been on, it was at that moment that I felt like I had met the version of my future self in these women.  According to them, where the messages that I receive are somewhat vulgar, the messages that they receive are just as bad.  They got everything from 70 year olds asking what cup size they were, to 50 year old men asking them to fuck.  I instantly felt connected to them.

                When we walked back in to the room, to hear yet another set of slow songs playing, Maria and I gazed at the dance floor and almost fell over.  There were at least 5-6 couples that were literally making out on the dance floor.  Maria coined the sumM of the evening.  She turned to me and said, "Geez, this is like an old people fuckfest."  Laughing hysterically, and finally an upbeat song being played, the 5 of us made our way back on to the dance floor to "cut another rug."

                After playing 2 songs, it was now time for the door prizes to be awarded.  As we made our way back to the table, the three of us had a very religious experience.   Where I don't attend church hardly ever, and have never really been in to religion, I turned to god praying that I would not win a door prize.  Being a dumbass swept up at the allure of actually winning something, instead of using a fake name and email address, I retardedly put my own information on the slip of paper to enter to win.  I immediately started praying to god that for once in my life, I don't want to win something.  Normally I never win anything to begin with, however I figured that with my dumb luck they would call my name where I would have to walk up on stage in front of everyone, at which they would know my identity.  Of course the miserable old lady who kicked us out of the first table, won the bottle of wine.  Then 2 other names were called for random prizes.   Kevin, Maria and I then engaged in a group prayer session with the hopes that our names wouldn't be called.  It was down to the 2nd to last prize when all of a sudden the dj started stuttering at the name that was on the paper..  mman..mmanddd.. We were waiting for it, our heart stopped as we were waiting for him to announce Maria's name.  "I can't read this handwriting," the dj said.  Then he went from a name that was similar to Maria's last name to something completely different, to which the three of us let out a huge sigh of relief.

                I'm not a big wine drinker, never really have been a fan, however I felt the need to consume alot of it in order to loosen up.  As we were raising our glasses, dancing and praising Toby Keith's "Red Solo Cup," we were approached by the event host, who yelled at us for drinking on the dance floor.  "These are hard wood floors, come on guys," he said with a disappointed tone.  "I don't see a sign, nor was there an announcement made that drinks are not allowed on the dance floor," I said to him.  "Guys I would just appreciate if you drink at the table, I don't want to ruin this church's floor."  he said.  "Whatever," I said irritated.  Clearly he forgot that we do not know the meaning of hardwood floors because we are not 60 and that is not a priority on our "grown up" list of responsibilities, but who would think one would get yelled at for drinking, wine, of all things in a church.  If Jesus finds it acceptable to drink wine in a church, I'm sure he's ok with it spilling on the hardwood floor. 

                Trying not to let the doushy coordinator get me down, that is when I knew Jesus had my back.  Moments later, a visibly drunk older woman (55+) was getting ready to dance with the drunken grandpa of her dreams, when she missed the step to the dance floor and fell flat on her ass.  The gentleman helped her up, she shook it off and proceeded to do the "Grease Medley" dance. 

                After another 5 songs fast, then 2 slow, we made our way outside to cool off yet again when we saw our new 35 year old friend standing outside smoking a cig.  We weren't talking to him, he was standing alone, swaying due to the Wild Turkey self induced coma that he had put himself in, when it happened.  A 50+ cougar with red hair walked up to him.  They literally talked for about 15 seconds before they started making out.    I'm guessing the conversation went something like this from the cougars perspective, "Hi.  I'm drunk, your young and hot want to make out?" <insert kiss here>.  Stunned at what we had just witnessed, we decided to leave them alone and go back in and sit down.    With slow songs till playing and Kevin feeling sweet, he decided to ask B to slow dance.   Maria and I kept M company as they made their way to the dance floor. 

                Maria and Kevin were playing it super cool that night, not alluding to the fact they were dating, so you can imagine Maria's shock when M turned to her and said, "B can't go home with your friend tonight because she is my driver."  Maria, trying to keep a straight face turns to me to fill me in on what was going on, to which I started laughing uncontrollably. 

                It was at that point my phone started ringing so I excused myself from the table to go outside to hear.  I decided to let it go straight to voicemail when I saw the 35 year old standing outside alone.  We had been watching to see what was going on, and he hadn't came back inside since our last trip outside.  Again, swaying he looks at me and says, "Oh Shit, my shirt is on inside out."  I instantly started interrogating him, because inquiring minds want to know..."Did you go to her car? or yours?  Did you get a BJ or did you get laid my friend?" I asked.  "I don't kiss and tell," he said.  My reply to his pussy answer was, "Well sounds to me like you got more than a BJ if your shirt was on inside out, because the last time I checked a BJ doesn't require removal of a shirt."  He drunkenly grinned at me, and without saying the words directly, he set my mind at ease knowing that he did in fact bang a cougar in a car.

                Running back to the table to share this experience with everyone, you would of thought that we had just entered a bad 70's soap opera entitled "The Young and the Geriatric".  The 35 year old made his way to the side of the dance floor where he instantly turned in to "that guy" that lurks in the corner and just sits and watches a girl he likes dance.  To all of our surprise, within the 10 minutes of all of this going on, she had moved on, to another guy closer to her age, that she was started making out with on the dance floor. 

                It was at this point, that we decided we had seen enough.  I had not won the clock radio I had so hoped to win, and said goodbye to our new friends M and B, and made our way to the door.  We were walking down the steps of the hall, when we were practically chased down by the event coordinator.  Thinking he was going to bring up again the lecture on "Why hardwood floors should be treated with respect," he then proceeds to interrogate us about our experience.  I said very few words, being still angry at yelling at me for the wine incident, so Maria and Kevin proceeded to engage in conversation with him.  Little did I know, not only was he aged like a fine wine, but he was also a Captain.  Captain obvious that is...

                He looks at us and says that we were the youngest people there.  No shit ya think?  And then proceeds to tell us how he doesn't like to promote it to "younger" singles because if he did he would have to pay for security and he wouldn't want things to get out of hand.  Being that I am in marketing, It took every bone in my body not to make a comment along the lines of, "Well from what I saw tonight, I think this would be a great event for Viagra to sponsor."

                As we left, trying to absorb every what the fuck moment the night had brought to us, on the ride home my mind started wandering...

                Really, this event was no different than going to a Jimmy D's or a Bar Room on a Friday night, with the exception that everyone in the room made it know that they were single.  I've been that cougar, walking up to random guys making out with them (of course within a 5 year age limit), that drunk girl that falls on her ass, only to bounce back up and capture some drunk guys attention, but more importantly, being "that girl" that knows looking for love in a bar is about as effective as an expired batch of birth control, every time I do go out, in the back of my mind I have hope for that chance encounter of meeting someone that I could share my life with. 

                With all that, I think the hardest reality to swallow is that where I think dating  is bad now in my generation, if this event was a reflection of my future in 30 years, I will be basically doing everything that I do now, except with a new set of hips and possibly knees.  Where some of those men and women were clearly looking for a one night stand, there were some people that were genuinely hopeful in finding love that night in a church hall.  It takes balls to show up at an event, where you put yourself out there and you're not just a profile but an actual person.  I wish them all the best of luck in whatever they are looking for, yet I think I will put my love life in fate and not the internet's hands...

Keepin' it real

-Shelby

               

The Athlete Chronicles

                During my mid 20s, unlike a lot of girls who even to this day are in denial, I accepted the hard cold reality that I will never date or marry a professional athlete.  Some girls are just blessed with quality looks and perfect bodies, others are just normal and average.  The ugliest of guys can turn attractive to any girl upon discovering that they not only have money, but are popular on a national level.  Where mostly these guys have a money hungry skank parade following them everywhere they go, others are humble and do not indulge using their popularity to bang as many chicks as possible. 

                Since I've never dated a huge name in the sports world, my life took a turn in to the semi pro realm during my mid 20s.  For those of you that don't know, I had a very promising singing career back then.  Not only had I released a 5 song demo that was being shopped around to other singers to cover, but I had also become a National Anthem singer.  The gigs ranged from semi pro boxing matches, hockey, soccer and even 2 Pittsburgh Penguins games.   Looking  back on those golden years, I encounter some strange individuals, that lead me to believe that looks and money aren't always everything.   Here are some of my experiences:

The Hockey Player

                During my singing career, I had landed a national anthem gig for a semi pro hockey team. I had never been to a real hockey game before, so I found the idea of men basically beating the shit out of each other in an attempt to score a goal rather sexy.  I had had my eyes set on this one absolutely gorgeous player.  Of course, being attracted to power, he was the co-captain.  He appeared to be around my age, and by looking at the program, I understood why I was attracted to him...He was not from Pittsburgh.  He was build like a brick shit house, and his ass was perfection, especially in his uniform.  Before I even knew there was a term for it, during every game I would "eye fuck" the hell out of him.  I couldn't keep my eyes off of him, this wasn't just lust, this was an animalistic attraction.  Finally, on the verge of giving up and my 4th singing appearance, I was stoked when a team staff member approached me right before I was about to perform, telling me that my dreamboat player was asking about me and wanted my phone number.  At this point, I was the happiest girl alive.  With all the confidence in the world, and giving one of my best performances, I patiently awaited to hear from my hockey player.  Like any normal guy, he abided by the 3 day rule.  When I received the call, I felt as if I was 16 again and crushing on the captain of the football team.  When he asked me out, I couldn't wait.

                The date was set, so I put myself in to A-game mode, and made my way to the Wexford area to meet him at the house that he was staying with his "host family."  When I pulled in to this neighborhood, you would of thought I had entered heaven.  The houses were at least 750k mansions that were just stunning.  When I arrived at the house, I had instant lady wood.  It was the nicest house I had ever been in.  Greeting me at the door, he was wearing a white t-shirt (the type that a guy would wear under a shirt, and a pair of denim jeans.  Not that I was wearing a prom gown, but I definitely felt over dressed considering his attire, thinking we were going somewhere nice.  He then proceeded to introduce me to his "host" family's nanny, who thinking about it now really resembled Tiger Wood's ex wife.  She was polite, and I could only understand every third word she was saying, but he proceeded to give me a grand tour.  In addition to the 7 bed rooms and open spiraling staircase in the living room of this house, it also had an indoor pool, bowling alley and movie theater.  Knowing that he was only staying there during the season, there was still wow factor to him at the simple fact that he inhabited this house.  After the tour, he asks me if it's ok if we go run an errand real quick.  Still in awe about this house, I agree and it was at that point that things started going down- hill very quickly.  We hop in to a beat up mini-van (it was more brown than white considering the rust that had been on this thing) and like two Mexican illegal immigrants, we make our way down the highway.  As he is driving (and mind you we are both 20 at the time), I notice a cooler in-between the driver's side and passenger seat where a console used be.  I asked him what the cooler was for (thinking maybe he was an avid fisherman or something), to which he proceeded to open it up to show me an entire case of Budweiser...on ice.  While driving he then cracked one open, and pounded it before we even got to our location.  Confused and a little terrified at the fact of what may become, we ended up at K-mart of all places.  Sitting in the parking lot, he then pounds another beer, and tells me that he will be right back, leaving me...in the car...underage...with a case of beer and 2 open containers. 

                I start to freak out a little bit, and started to think "ok maybe he is just nervous, but this is even a little weird for me."  Finally 10 minutes later he comes back with nothing.  At this point, I am super confused as to why he incorporated a trip to K-mart in to our date activities and didn't even purchase anything.  In addition to the drinking, he also was a chewer, so seeing something bulging from his pocket didn't really phase me I just assumed we were making a chew run.  We then arrive back to the mansion, where as he is getting out of the car, rather than a can of chew falling out of his pocket, I am stunned to see a box of condoms laying on the ground.  Not only was I on a date with an underage alcoholic, but I had also been invited to attend my own condom run.  Looking down at the ground, and livid I asked him why he felt the need to have them, to which his response in a cocky tone was "We'll you know, just in case," and winked at me.  At this point, dumbfounded by how non chaliant this guy was about the condom thing, in a polite way I told him that would not be happening.  Convinced that his good looks and cocky attitude would get me to give it up, he started to play nice and asked me to come inside and watch a movie in the theater.  After informing him that he will not be getting laid, he seemed ok with it and we proceeded down stairs.

                It was the first time I had ever seen a screen that retracted from the ceiling in someone's house.  It was so cool.  Equip with leather couches, we proceeded to watch the movie, while I maintained a safe distance away from him.  Eventually in a horrible attempt to recreate a scene from Full House, he inched closer to me and put his arm around me.  For having a shitty personality, he had the body of a brick shit house.  With a beer in one hand, and his other arm around me, we started watching Office Space.  10 minutes in to the movie, and up to his now 5th beer, the liquid courage started setting in.  One minute I am snuggled up next to a sexy yet sort of douchy semi pro hockey player, then next thing I know, out of nowhere I'm getting mouth raped by this guys tongue.  I don't recall what was worse, the fact that his tongue provided my teeth with an impromptu cleaning, or the fact that his breath smelled  like what I imagine leather soaked in urine tastes like.  Then the dry humping began, and at that point I felt like I was making out with a rabbit on steroids.   When he started getting handsy, I stopped him.  Still being naive and in my early 20s, I was still in the mind-set that by telling a guy no, he will respect  you more and my body was a temple blablabla.  Mr. Hockey Player didn't like the word no.  After giving me 7 reasons why I should in fact have sex with him, I politely excused myself from the room, ran as fast as I possibly could out of the house and left.  I never expected to hear from him, nor wanted to ever again.  A few games later, he actually got traded and had a successful semi pro career until 06.   That is where his google trail turns cold, and I now envision him being an overweight copy machine sales man with a drinking problem...

The Boxer

                I had a pretty steady gig singing the anthem for boxing matches that took place at a casino.  The fights would take place every two months or so,  and being that 85% of the boxers were local, keeping up with that strategy, they brought in me, a local singer to perform the anthem before the main event.  I had been singing at these matches for a little over a year, and networked my ass off making a ton of connections and friends.  One night, I spotted a local boxer, who I had heard of before but had yet to officially be introduced to.   He was pretty cute, and normal looking.  Dark hair, blue eyes, and judging by the amount of chest hair he was sporting, I would make the educated guess that he was Italian.  Every fight that I had previously watched of his, he had won, which turned the hotness factor up to full blast.  My good friend Leah had been dating a boxer who trained with the one I had my eye on.  I begged the guy that Leah was seeing to pass my phone number along to the Italian boxer.  He told me he'd see what he could do, and 2 days later I received a text.  Super excited that things were actually working in my favor, we began to text for a week (at which he was funny, easy to talk to and very humble).  He finally asked me out and we began to plan our date. 

                Being that in my mind, this was no ordinary guy, but in fact a semi pro boxer, I made sure to have my A game ready.  I begged Leah to come over to help me with my outfit, hair and makeup.  Once everything was assembled, I went on my way to meet him at the halfway point between our two houses. 

                When I arrived in a fast food parking lot, he was waiting for me.  He was all decked out in his white shirt and Guido gold chain rocking Jesus on his necklace.  He was a lot taller in person and had the prettiest blue eyes I had ever seen.  I was instantly smitten.  I immediately started thinking that if this works out, him and I would be the "Zack and Kelly Morris" (Saved by the Bell) of the local boxing scene. 

                That's when he opened up his mouth....For someone sounding normal via text messages, he was completely opposite in person.  Where I don't remember the conversation, the only normal moment I remember was him telling me that he was 27 and was considering retiring within a year.  Other than that sentence, the convo was all over the place.  He would begin a sentence with one topic and end with something completely different.  He would be in mid sentence and would pause and break out in to laughter for no obvious reason, claiming that he was thinking about something funny from earlier in the day.  A few times during our date, I even caught him talking to himself.  After the 3rd time mistaking that he was talking to me, and he was in fact talking to himself, I had a brief moment of clarity and thought to myself, "Jesus Christ this kid is like Forrest Gump, I think he has gotten hit one too many times in the head." 

                Upon concluding of the date, he brought me back to my car and proceeded to kiss me goodnight.  I felt the need to pity kiss this one, because there was something obviously wrong with him and I felt bad.  What started as a pity kiss, he attempted to turn into a "let's make out on the hood of your car," in which I wasn't having it.  I said my goodbye and instantly called Leah to fill her in on every play by play of the evening.

                That next week, there was a fight. The boxer and I had been in contact all week, however it was very limited contact.  I didn't want things to be weird or awkward considering we would in fact run in to each other at these events.  Being that it was the eve of a title bout, there had been some interviews in the local paper that I didn't bother reading because I figured it was stuff I already knew.  That night, my mom, dad, Leah and myself headed down to the Casino to partake in some pre fight gambling festivities.  We drove separately because Leah and I wanted to go to the after fight parties.   As I was sitting at a slot machine next to my mother, she informed me about the news article.  My own mother informed me that the boxer that I had previously gone out with a week before, was not 27 but in fact in his late 30's, and his girlfriend was also interviewed in the newspaper showing her support.  Being livid, and Leah laughing her ass off uncontrollably, I decided to send a polite yet sarcastic text to the boxer calling him out on everything.  Since he already thought he was in outer space, he proceeded to laugh about it and not really grasping the severity of how pissed I was.  Leah's boxer had been acting a little shady too that week, so she decided to begin drinking well before the fight to calm her nerves.  Normally, during almost every singing event, my mother and I would bump heads at times, her being more nervous than me and me getting annoyed because would dictate to me what I should and shouldn't do before my performance. 

                That night, Leah was the greatest buffer ever.   Belligerently drunk and making a scene, my mom had a new person to shift her nerves towards with Leah.  After singing was done, and considering I drove us that night, Leah waited to hear from her boxer.  A half an hour went by, and no word.  Finally Leah decided to call up to his hotel room to see where he was at, when she received the shock of her life.  A young lady answered who proceeded to tell Leah that she was the boxers girlfriend.  In a moment of drunken clarity, we proceeded up to the boxers room where Leah and the girlfriend proceeded to exchange timelines discovering that they were in fact being played.  Enter sudo boxer.  Upon seeing both of the women he had been dating in the same hallway, the mental picture of his "Oh Fuck" face will remain in my distant memory. 

                Pulling Leah's drunk ass down the hallway, I got her in the car and we started driving home.  We later found out that that evening the boxers actual girlfriend ended up beating the shit out of him.  Just when I didn't think the night could get any worse, it did...

                Driving on back roads from the casino, there is little to no street lighting, which leads any cautious driver to turn on their high beams.  Unbeknownst to me, I was unaware that it was illegal to drive with them on, especially when the car passing you in the opposite direction on the 2 lane highway happens to be a cop.  I get pulled over, and have an underage drunk person ready to pass out in my front seat.  Begging Leah to just keep her shit cool, she sits up stone cold staring straight ahead and does not make eye contact with the cop.  Upon giving him my registration and him walking back to his cruiser to run my information, the events of the evening and the nerves of getting pulled over got to Leah.  She proceeded to start throwing up, in the front seat of my car catching it with her hands and then trying to throw it out the window as if it was a soccer ball and not liquid.  Fortunately the cop let me off with a warning, and the entire experience turned in to a memory that I had hoped to forget.

The Football player

                One random Friday night, Maria and I decided to go out to a bar that we normally wouldn't frequent, just to break ourselves from the monotony of the South Side scene.  We ended up at a bar past 15th street, which was unheard of for us.  The bar was jam pack (then again, it was so small that 30 people made it seem busy), but luckily we managed to find 2 seats at the bar.  Sitting down, we then noticed a group of guys next to our seats that were well beyond wasted.  Being a little loud, they weren't really harming us in anyway, but it was clear that they had been drinking for quite some time.  All of a sudden I noticed a decent looking guy heading our way.  He really wasn't my type at all, he had slightly balding blonde hair, and was wearing an Affliction shirt, which for me is the ultimate vagina repellant.  Being in a good mood, rather than being so cynical, I decided that if he did talk to me, I would play it cool.  Eventually he made his way over and he was even cuter up close.  Excited that he may actually be a normal individual I was then discouraged when he came up and started talking to us, but directing the conversation more towards Maria's than me.  He opened by apologizing for the guys behind him, claiming that they were his friends and if he needed to keep them in line for us he would.  Assuring him that they were not a bother, the conversation continued...with Maria....

                There is nothing worse than being single and out with your friends when you spot a cute guy, only for him to approach one of your taken friends and not you.  It's almost like God's way of smacking a single person in the face, with your friends unintentionally doing it.  The interesting thing is, a respectful guy, once he knows a girl is taken will back off, which is what this guy did, shifting his attention to me.   Nothing is a bigger turn off than feeling you are second best to one of your friends, but to witness it first hand...that only means game on for me. 

                Now that the attention was focused on me, because knowing that I am single, I am all of a sudden more appealing.  Knowing this, I tried to play nice and give this guy the benefit of the doubt, but secretly knew that after this night, things would go no further.  Making general conversation, and visibly seeing that he was getting drunker by the second, he was very reluctant to tell Maria and I what he did for a living.  Maria and I had to pretty much pry it out of him, for him to finally tell us that he was the Quarterback for a semi pro professional flag football team.  From the minute the words Quarterback were spoken from his plump luscious lips, it was as if we had invited a Vampire in to our conversation.  During the next 10 minutes of our conversation  he used the word "Quarterback"  at least 8 times.  Being that he went from being super modest to semi cocky by allowing 1 word to be entered in to the conversation, I decided to drink more with the hopes of playing nice.  That didn't last very long.  Upon abusing usage of the word "Quarterback" for the 9th or 10th time, I looked at him and said, "Wow, you really enjoy being a Quarterback don't you?"  To which his response was, "Well yes, I do.  That's why I don't tell people up front.  If I would of walked up to you ladies and introduced myself as a quarterback, what's the first thing you would think?"  Staring in to his pretty blue eyes, not sure how I wanted to answer this question, I looked him with a stone cold stare and said, "Rape."  As Maria almost spit her drink out of her mouth in laughter, he looked at me with a stunned look on and his face and said, "That's not very nice."  My reply was simple, "You know for being a Quarterback, you really don't have thick skin do you?"  Knowing that I may make this poor guy cry, I decided to lay off the sarcasm and try to be nice.  Maria and then got formally introduced to the guys behind us turned out to be fellow teammates. 

                His teammates were cool as hell.  There were 4 or 5 of them at the time in one group and they were so nice by buying us shots and talking to us.  I thought that maybe I had found new friends that could adopt me as a little sister, considering I always wanted a brother, and what better to have a football team protecting you?  That's when one of the super drunk members made me lose faith in all humanity again. 

                I have my back turned to the group so that I could focus on the Quarterback, when the next thing I know, one of the players wraps his hands around my upper body and is literally hanging on me.  Not being formally introduced to this one, I only knew that he was the loudest and drunkest and could hear his entire conversation about his proudness for Black History Month from across the room.  With his arms slowly getting tighter and tighter around my upper shoulder area, rather than introducing himself, he looks at me and then Maria and says, "I'd do you so hard, I'd break your hips".  Shocked and blindsided by this comment, Maria and I just laughed it off, while the Quarterback kept asking us if we were ok and he would make him go away if he was making us feel uncomfortable.  In the spirit of the moment, and the influence of the vodka spirits that I had been drinking like water, I decided to be nice I mean I did have a Quarterback to impress, and rather than starting a war, I decided to use poetry as a form to keep the piece.  I then proceeded to recite the lyrics to TuPac's - "I Ain't Mad at Cha" in such a way that went from a rap song to a spoken poem.  You would of thought I had turned in to a priest, because he was praising every line I was saying from the song.  The Quarterback turns to Maria, who has tears forming in her eyes and asks her, "Is she always this sarcastic?", to which she replies back, "You ain't seen nothing yet."

                We then proceed to another bar, were we actually get separated from the boys.  They were having issues getting in and Maria and I were too cold to wait, so we just walked in expecting them to follow.  I was a little bit pissed that I had not gotten the Quarterbacks phone number by this time, but I blamed it on fate and got on with it.  20 minutes later, we spotted them, and my Quarterback came over.  He was drunk out of his mind at this point, assuring me (without me questioning) that he was in to me and not Maria, and he wants to take me out and he really likes me.  The 17 year old version of myself was dancing around as if I had just got asked to prom by the most popular guy.  The 28 year old version of me was facing the reality that I was actually taking advantage of a drunk guy to lift my self esteem.   For a minute, I felt a sense of self loathing, but after doing another shot, I bounced right back.  Eventually, the inevitable happened, and a fight broke out with the team and some random guys, causing my Quarterback rush to his teammates side, promising me he would call the next day.  1 text message...that was all that I ever received from the Quarterback.  Where deep down, I could tell that he wasn't serious at all about getting to know me and that I was just a random girl that he met out drunk one night, I think the worst part of all was that I came to find out though a bit of light Facebook stalking that he lied about his age.  He told me that he was 27 (making me feel like a predator), when in fact he was in his early 30s.  Why anyone would lie about their age to someone who is within a year or two of it, is beyond me.  I should of followed my initial instincts that I had learn the hard way a few years before, "Never trust a man who wears Affliction clothing and claims to be an athlete."

               

Keeping it real -

Shelby

Just when I thought I had it bad

            For as much as I blog about emotionally retarded individuals, I also provide proof of them via dating websites and emails.  Where I have experienced many tools and douchebags in my life time, it's no wonder that I have changed my outlook on relationships and dating. I am just the only one with the balls to bring how terrible the dating scene in Pittsburgh is, so it's expected that people assume that I am either a bitch or a negative Nancy.  I've accepted that 95% of the men I meet do not want a relationship, they just want to get their rocks off, and where I still find it pathetic and dumb, I've accepted societies changing views and my faith in humanity wears thin. 

            One question that I absolutely hate getting asked is "Why are you single?"  That's like asking a blind person if they are wearing matching socks.  Most of the time, depending on my mood, my usual reply is "I'm currently dating 2 men at this time, one is named Mr. Duracell and the other is Mr. Energizer."  Being single is not a disease, it's a choice (it's even harder explaining this to your married/in a relationship friends, because they don't know what it's like in the real world of dating.)

            I had thought about starting my very own singles support group.  Where people could share their horror stories about dating, experiences and whatnot, but then decided that would be too much of a commitment.  In the last 5 years, the only thing I have been able to commit to is a long distance carrier.  Then I had a thought, rather than overexposing my entire life, what if I gave others the chance to share their horror stories. 

High School Blues - Submitted by Brandon M.

It was sophmore year in Math Class.  Feeling confident, I had my eyes set on 3 girls.  I ended up going after the one that sat behind me, so for like 3 weeks, I would purposely change the desks around because the janitor kept putting the desks in her spot, so being a nice guy, I would switch them before she showed up so she would be happy, and I could sit closer to her.  I finally drum up the courage to ask her out to Hundred Acres Manor, she says yes and life is good.  It was my first date ever.  With new clothes and a new found confidence, my parents pick her up and take  us to the Haunted House.  Upon arrival, ironically two of her friends are outside waiting in line. 

            Trying to be a nice guy, I invited them to join us. The entire time she is talking to her friends totally ignoring me. The only conversation we had was about the Counting Crows, and how I would buy her their newest CD because she loved them.  So we go through the haunted house, my parents pick us up and we go to Eat N Park.  There was no conversation during the remainder of the evening whatsoever.  Bummed out, I avoided her for a little bit.  While I was avoiding her, I came to find out through some friends that she told her friends that we were going out, and her friends felt the need to "save her from me," realizing that the coincidental encounter of her friends being at the same place as us was a set up.  Since I had already promised her a CD, a few weeks later, I handed it to her and said "Here Ya Go, as promised."

Fish for dessert? - Submitted by anonymous female

            I was set up on a blind date through one of my friends.  Convinced that it may be worth trying, I decided to agree, and my friend coordinated everything.  Our first, and last date started at a local chain restaurant.  During dinner I couldn't help but notice that he was chewing his food a little weird.  It was almost as if his teeth were shifting in some sort of way, but I couldn't tell if it was real, or just an illusion caused by the spectacular lighting that the restaurant had.  I got my answer...Mid way through dinner, he proceeded to take his false teeth out and lay them on the table so that he could "give his gums a rest."  I was in shock.  He wasn't at all bad looking, so I was really confused as to why this was happening.

            After I sat at the table staring at his chompers, and a little freaked out, I tried to make the best out of it and proceeded to ask him the "getting to know you" questions that are typical on any first date.  It was at that moment that he mentioned, he was just recently released from jail for a crime I can't even remember because I was half paying attention once the words "recently and Jail" were used in one sentence.  How could my friend do this to me?  Was this a joke? 

            Prior to getting any history on this guy, I had agreed to let him drive.  Once dinner was over, he then asked me if we could stop at Pet Smart real quick.  Agreeing, unaware that we were running errands and not on a date anymore, he took me to Pet Smart where he purchased a fish.   A pet fish?!  Really?  As I sat holding his new pet fish while he drove me back to my house, I realized that was the last blind date I let that friend set me up on.  I was worried if he asked me out again, he would want to go to the zoo, and would try to steal a lion.  I haven't heard from him since.

She drove me to drink...literally - submitted by Mike G.

            I was set up on a blind date through a friend.  It was a Sunday evening, and she lived 45 min away from me, but being a gentleman, I decided I would offer to come pick her up and we would go to the movies.  She decided to have some southern comfort and sprite while waiting for me. As I was driving to her house, being that I am horrible with directions, I had called her to help me navigate in the right direction because I knew I was lost.  Rather than being polite about it. she sounded slightly flustered and said "I just can't explain to you how to get here, figure it out on your own."  So I was very late finding her house and by the time I got there she was slightly more drunk than I had envisioned for a normal Sunday Night Movie Date. 

             By the time we got to the Waterfront, we were late for the movie,  so we decided to see the later show.  Unfortunately, this meant we had to kill time at the bar.  This resulted in me buying her several overpriced drinks at Loews and forcing me to drink so I could find her more interesting.  By movie time she was wasted and clinging to my muscular arms (really Mike?) like Velcro.  After the movie, and her still really drunk, I start thinking I'm gonna get a little Ew La La action.  We went back to her place, and she led me in to her bedroom, where we started giving each other massages with these little massage thingies.  With the massage putting me in the mood, I was ready to conquer.  As I was getting ready to make a move, her roommate walks in.  Unknown to me, she SHARED a 1 bedroom apartment with a roommate, so you can imagine my surprise when the roommate came home and my date informs me that her "share" time was up and I needed to leave.  Can't say that I was upset about leaving. She never got a 2nd date.

In the Ghetto - Submitted by an anonymous female

            When I was in my teens (honestly can't remember the actual age) I went on a blind date thanks to a friend. He picked me up we decided to go to Eat n Park in Sewickley to grab a bite to eat.  The dinner conversation wasn't outstanding, it was more general "getting to know you" stuff.  Just as the bill came, he tells me he forgot his wallet.  I was dumbfounded.  I couldn't tell if he was trying to get me to pay the bill, or if he really did in fact not have his wallet.   He then wanted to dine and dash, but having morals, I told him to go home and get his wallet and I would wait there. (stupid I know) who's to say he wasn't going to leave me stranded there? (and this was before i had a cell phone ). About a half hr later, he shows up, pays the tabs and we leave. Trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, we get in the car and move on to our next location. 

            He had mentioned to me he wanted to take me to one of his favorite places to hang out.  While we are on our way to the "surprise" location, then proceeds to show me a gun that he keeps under the seat "for protection."   Who the hell did my friend set me up with?  At this point, all I wanted to do was just go home, he clearly was showing the signs of either being a gang banger or a drug dealer.  To add the cherry to the topping of this superficial sundae, we the head to Linmar Terrace in Aliquippa! (For those of you that do not know the Beaver County Area, Linmar Terrace is Aliquippa's version of a Compton, CA neighborhood.)   I was thankful that we were only "driving through" however in a failed attempt to impress me, he kept bragging about how all of his friends lived there and how he hangs out there all the time. By this point I was freaked out and begged him to take me home. On a whim, I made up an excuse as to why I needed to be home immediately and played the "I told my parents I wouldn't be out very long" card. For some unknown reason, the kid took me home, and dropped me off safe and sound. Seriously could have raped, kidnapped or murdered that day. That was my first and LAST blind date!!!

Wings and Strippers - Submitted by John B.

My date from hell consisted of buffalo wings and strippers, something most guys might call a dream date, but it isn’t as clear cut as it sounds.  This may be the closest I will ever be, or ever want to be, to Tucker Max.  While living in Virginia, a friend of a friend suggested a blind date.  I reluctantly said yes.  I picked the girl up, and she was more attractive than I expected, so I texted my back-up buddy that I didn’t need an immediate emergency excuse call.  I did not plan accordingly for my date, and all of the restaurants that I was anticipating taking my date had ridiculous wait times.  We then decided on Buffalo Wild Wings for dinner and drinks. 

            While dining at Buffalo Wild Wings, I ran into a cousin of one of my friends from PA, who lived in Virginia.  I had not seen him in a few years, so he came over to the table to talk for quite a while.  During the conversation, he revealed that Buffalo Wild Wings was the first stop of his bachelor party that had just started.  He said, if he had known I was living in Virginia, he would have invited me.  I am not sure if my date felt guilty at this point or what.  She then said that I should go, and that she would find a ride home.  I refused, because I really thought that would be rude.  She then asked the groom-to-be if the bachelor party was headed to the strip clubs just across the VA-WV state line.  He said it would be.  This is where I should have parted ways with her, but for some reason the coolness factor of this girl went up 1000% when her eyes twinkled at the sound of strip club.  She then said that we were attending the bachelor party strip club activities and my friend seemed as excited about this as she did.  I did not fully think this through.

            I am not a connoisseur of gentlemen’s clubs, but the strip clubs on the state line of West Virginia are far from being mistaken for gentlemen’s clubs.  Virginia does not have strip clubs.  A whole state full of perverts drive from Virginia to the border towns of West Virginia to see the first strip club that draws them in with a neon glow.  I had more teeth in my mouth than the rest of the customers.  I remember saying to myself when I walked in, “What the hell am I doing here?”  Then, out of nowhere, my date points to a sign that says, “Amateur night.”  No sooner did I say, “Are you kidding me?!?!” she was talking to the bouncer and being escorted up on stage.  I started shaking my head as the bachelor party began cheering her on. 

            So yeah, I got to see my blind date naked on our first date.  Unfortunately, she could not dance, and she invested a lot of money into that bra that made her look much more gifted than she had falsely advertised earlier.  Think this is the worst part of my night yet?  Guess again.  She phoned a friend after her first set on stage.  Her friend showed up about 35 grueling minutes later.  During this period of time, I did not get to talk to my date, as she was being molested by rednecks and the bachelor party.  I did get out of buying my date any more drinks for the evening, and she was turning a nice profit, but I was the fly on the wall during what started out as my date, and now became her audition. 

            Her friend showed up.  At first her friend was saying, “I can’t believe you would do this?” and “What are you thinking?” and “Aren’t you on a date?”  My date then showed her a wad of cash.  Her friend’s morals went out the window and she crawled up on stage.  This is where I saw my exit strategy form before my eyes.  Her friend is here.  I can bail and she has a ride home, as we were now about 45 minutes away from where she lived.  I walked up to my date, said I was going to head home and wished her a good night.  She was trashed at this point.  She said, “You can’t leave us here.”  “Us?”  What do you mean “us?”  It turns out, her friend got dropped off at the strip club.  It also turns out that her friend can’t hold her alcohol and was already half trashed herself. 

            If anyone had morals in this story at any point, mine kicked in here.  I was not about to leave two fairly attractive drunk girls in another state, 45 minutes from their house, especially after they had shown their goods to all of the local mouth-breathers.  If they got raped and thrown in a ditch, I would never be able to forgive myself.  I talked two very drunk girls out of the bar, having to hold one of them up on each side of my.  The locals were not happy that I was taking away their entertainment.  It was a struggle, but a round of beers with some of the cash I grabbed from the stripper profits were bought and I made my get-away.  I only had one beer bottle thrown at my Expedition while pulling away. 

            Drunk girls in cars equals one of 4 things in my experience.  (1) Very loud talking/squealing/screaming, none of which is coherent.  (2) Passed out girls. (3) Crying girls. (4) Vomiting girls.  Guess which jackpot I hit?  I was pissed at this point.  I got to my date’s house, now with two vomit covered, passed out girls.  Carried my date to her door, opened it and threw her on her couch.  Went back to my Expedition, picked up the crying, vomit covered girl in my back seat, carried her into my date’s house and threw her on the couch as well.  My gentlemanly duties are now complete.  I went home, threw away my now-vomit covered clothes into my washing machine, showered and went to bed.

            Needless to say, I never called her back.  I got an apology call the next day from my buddy for the situation that I was put into the night before.  I never heard from or saw my date again.  The bright side to this story is what happened the next day.  I went to my Expedition with a garden hose, carpet cleaner and a shopvac to assess the damage.  While I did have some vomit to clean, there were dollar bills all through my vehicle.  It was enough to cover my bill from dinner the night before and the few beers I drank.  While the date was a total loss, the experience did not hurt me financially.

Go Steelers - Submitted by Michael S.

            I went to a Football game with a "supposed" hard core  Steelers fan who claimed she new everything about football. We decided to grab a bite to eat before the game, and during dinner this girl is taking shots and drinking like a Kennedy. Before we even get in to Heinz Field is when her true colors started to sparkle.  Belligerently drunk, she starts mouthing off the security guard informing him that she was a "puncher" if you get my drift.  At any given random time during our date, I was not paying attention, she would randomly punch me in the arm, stomach and shoulder, and this was our first date.  So we are on our way to our seats and bumps into a browns fan when her "inner thug "came out (hands in the air, making racial slurs and calling him a dog), meanwhile the guy was white and a browns fan.  So security comes over and tells her to slow her role or she's going get ejected.  Her reaction?  "I don't give a fuuuuuck."

           

            We finally get to our seats, and she calms down till about halftime.  We get up to get some beers and she's says "We should smoke a joint over here by the ledge".  After telling her there's no way I'm getting arrested, she proceeds to call me "pussy boy" for the rest of the evening.  By the 4th quarter, she isn't even aware who our coach is, meanwhile the punching continues..  The last straw came when she overheard the Browns fan (the one from earlier) asking me why I let her hit me like that, to which her response was 1. to throw a drink in his face, 2. a lunge at him, 3. during the lunge her pants fell down exposing her bare ass and vagina to the crowd, and 4. security kicking her out.  Realizing that she had drove, and I was now stranded at the Steeler game, I proceeded to call a cab and try to forget about what had just happened. 

           

            At 4 am, my phone rings, and it's a call from the Allegheny County Jail.  The officer informs me that my "girlfriend" told him that I would be posting her bail, to which I bring him up to speed on the entire series of the day's events.  After she somehow posted bail, I started receiving text messages every two minutes ranging from death threats to "I would of had sex with you if you would of bailed me out."  The last straw was when her father called me trying to get me to reimburse him for the bail money since he claimed it was my fault she got that drunk.  I filed a PFA the next day.

Special thank you to all those who submitted their stories!

Keeping it real -

Shelby