We’re collecting stories about your most entertaining dates. Send your time-stamped dating stories to firstname.lastname@example.org; don’t forget to include gender and age for you and your date.
I decided I wanted to start dating again. There was someone I had in mind, a 27-year-old nude model I met earlier in the year. After my first hash, we ended up back at my place and made out on my couch. We made plans for a date later that week.
6:30: He picks me up right on time. I barely have time to finish my predate beer.
6:35: I get into his dilapidated VW and he informs me that we would be going bowling. I should not have let him choose the date. However, I knew he didn’t drink so all of my usual ideas were out anyway.
6:50: We get to the bowling rink. Arena? No idea, both sound weird, but then again, bowling is weird. After renting shoes and paying for a game, I am down $26. I don’t remember bowling being so expensive, probably because my parents paid for me the last time I went bowling.
6:55: He is entering our names into a machine that looks like it belongs in Back to the Future. He has farted four times already.
7:02: I bowl the first frame and it’s a strike. Bowling isn’t as bad as I thought it was.
7:10: Ok, yes it is. He won’t stop farting.
7:30: I beat him by just over 50 points. He asks if I want to play again. I decline – as I do not want to waste any more money on this awful evening.
7:35: He asks if I’m hungry. I’m starving. He takes me to this crappy diner with notoriously bad service.
7:36: He gestures for me to sit down. I smile. He really is quite a gentleman. I try to convince myself that dinner is going to be so enjoyable that he may actually save this date.
7:37: He sits on the same side of the booth as me.
7:40: He starts talking about what it’s like to be a nude model. My neck hurts from trying to make eye contact with him while he talks.
7:42: We order. He is currently vegan, so he gets fries and a veggie wrap. I do the same, but with a large serving of feta sauce to save the bland food.
7:43: Before the waiter is even out of ear shot, he gets into the story of why he stopped drinking. I am very uncomfortable. He tells me he is a virgin. I take a long sip of beer.
7:50: After I lick the bowl of feta sauce clean, we decide it is time to go. We split the check. I am now down just under $40.
8:05: He drops me off at home, pecks me good night, and looks at me as if he wants another couch make-out session. I assure him that my roommate is probably home and I had a lot of school work to do.
8:06: He leaves. I promptly shut the door.
8:07: My roommate bolts down the stairs and we split a bottle of wine while discussing the tragically awkward evening.
We did not go on a second date, but are still friends.