I was dating a French guy, when we both lived in the U.S. After we'd been together for three years, he moved back to France. A few months later, I went to visit him. Rather than breaking up with me before I came, he decided to ignore me for the entire trip, until I got the message. Heartbroken, confused, and totally bummed out, I ended up hooking up with his Dutch friend one night before I went home. We kept in touch, and I now live with him in Holland. — Nancy

I was wearing my favorite short skirt, bright pink lipstick and feeling that nausea, a pleasant violation of your guts' personal space. First date! He picked me up in a disheveled gold mini-van that seemed like it was used as a substitute trash can. Empty cans of Monster and Marlboro boxes fell out of the car as I got in. He was wearing a t-shirt, dirty jeans, and an awkward smile, but boy was he dreamy. 

Really inappropriate first-date conversation commenced as we headed towards his house. (Oh, didn't you know? In modern dating, strangers' houses are acceptable substitutes for public cafes. I was learning so much!) He’d warned me about his house, and he wasn’t a liar — there were tools and trash everywhere, and the stairs to his room were so rundown I had to hop over a few of them to avoid falling into the basement. 

Him. Me. A bedroom. Subtle! Romantic! We watched an old black-and-white movie about a blues man. This was the best part of the date — I do love the blues. And I realized that under all the grime, there was a charming guy, albeit one with no sense of hygiene or finesse. 

After the movie we left to get food. I was drunk off the entire bottle of gin he'd brought me (fuck flowers!) The date ended soon thereafter — he acted like a disrespectful piece of shit, I yelled at him, and cried all the way to my apartment. Oddly enough, I saw him again the next day... — Marion

A couple of years ago I met a really cute and charming guy at a party. I asked him out the next weekend, but he texted to apologize — he’d been invited to a costume party and didn’t want to bring me along, afraid he’d get drunk and embarrass me. I thought that was sweet and made plans with friends.

Saturday night, I started to get strange text messages: "Superman is roaming the earth tonight!" Imagining my cute new friend in a superhero costume, I urged him to come around to the club later. Since I wasn’t going to get a real first date, I figured I’d take a hook-up. He didn’t reply. An hour or so later, one of my friends left to go home, only to come back in a minute later. “There’s a guy out there trying to get in but the bouncers won’t let him, because he’s super drunk and wearing a Superman costume..."

Shit. Figuring he was now my responsibility, I left. When I got outside, the bouncers said he’d vomited and wandered off. Relieved, I went home. I heard someone knocking on my door. I had my suspicions but I was too freaked out to have them confirmed, so I went to bed. The next morning, Superman came around again to apologize. So began the strangest relationship I’ve ever had. — Henrike 

I met him at a party. I never think I’m as drunk as I am — and so I happily followed him back to his apartment. As we were having sex (I was told this later on), I pulled away saying I didn’t feel well, and vomited off the edge of his bed. He brought me water and a towel, then cleaned up the mess and asked if I was okay. I told him I was all right and wanted to keep going. We lay in the opposite direction and proceeded. Our momentum didn’t stop until the morning. He would pause every once in a while to bring me more water. We ended up dating for a year and a half. — Sarah

Freshman year we had to do all these getting-to-know-you games on our dorm floor. I hated them — I have social anxiety anyway, and name games and twenty questions were not helping. I was homesick and shy, so I started hiding out in the stairwell when we were supposed to gather to play these mind-numbing wastes of time. One time I was hiding out, surfing the web on my phone, when this guy walked in. At first I was worried he was going to try to make me go to the meeting, but he was also looking for an escape. And thus I found the anti-social love of my life. — Hannah

At a bar on St. Patty's Day, a guy named Drew introduced me and asked if I wanted a drink. As we approached the bar, a cheery, drunk Irishman in his 60s told us we looked like a lovely couple. "I can tell you two are really in love with each other!" I leaned into Drew and said, "Oh, isn't that sweet, honey?" and he responded with an arm around my shoulder and a, "Sure, sweetie, isn’t that nice?"

"I'm sure you'll have beautiful babies together." He said. And we lost it, laughing crazily. Drew walked over to the bar to get our drinks and I told the old guy that Drew and I had just met five minutes ago. The Irishman went white and apologized profusely. Drew returned with the drinks, and we spent the rest of the night together laughing with him, and listening to his crazy stories. 

Before Drew and I left, the old man told me, "I'll pray that no man every breaks your heart, and if he does, I'll break his neck!" Talk about a memorable first meeting, and a St. Patty’s Day that will be with me always. — Kaeli

I'd actually known of him for a while — we worked at the same college paper, but we never really spoke. The summer after graduation, I went to visit New York, where he grew up, and for some reason I got his number and asked him to show me around. This translated to getting trashed together, and before long he was back in my hotel room. We started making out, messily. Next thing I knew, it was morning. Me: "Did we...?" Him: "Well, you passed out... on top of me." Oh. We started dating a few months later (and we've been together since), but for a long time, I’d meet his friends and they’d be like, “Oh, you’re that guy.” — Jeff

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