100 Bad Dates: #23
December 14, 2009
Date #23 was a closet freak which (as far as freaks go) is probably the least appealing kind. I, myself, am a fan of letting the freak flag fly and allowing people to make decisions based on all the info. Ah, well, to each his own.
After Date #23 and I had gone out a few times, his mother (with whom he lived) insisted on meeting me. Having been on my own since I was a teen, I found the whole thing less sweet and more creepy. He told me I had to go to their place, as his mother was agoraphobic and never left the house. It was all very Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho.
We pulled up to the trailer he shared with his mom and older brother. It didn’t look like a bad place, but when he opened the door, it was a disaster. Cigarette smoke hung thick in the air, and there was a significant layer of ash on everything. From somewhere in the smoke, I heard a voice.
“Well! Don’t just stand there! Come in!”
It wasn’t a friendly voice.
We stepped a little further into the house, and I saw her: a short, chubby woman with Crystal Gayle-length hair worn in a dinner plate-size bun, and a mean face. She told us to sit down. Date #23′s brother sat next to her. They were both drinking Pepsis, and there were many empty cans on the coffee table in front of them.
She gave me the third (fourth? fifth?) degree, as she chain smoked like she might die tomorrow and needed to finish the carton of cigs she had started that morning. She asked about my family, my education, and my job with the PGA Tour, wanting to know if I’d met any famous golfers.
“You ever meet Greg Norman? He’s handsome. They call him The Shark.”
She chewed the words and spit them out, including the added bonus of flying saliva and cigarette smoke.
I told her I hadn’t met him, due to injuries he had suffered and his subsequent retirement (which was ended by his subsequent subsequent un-retirement – yeah, I still keep up). Disappointment further clouded her face.
Date #23 noticed my tight, polite smile.
“I’m going to show her my room. We’ll be back.”
She shrugged, having lost interest in me after the Greg Norman thing.
We walked to the back of the trailer to a small, messy room stuffed with comic books. The bed was a futon that looked like it had been unfolded for years. It was covered with junk.
Date #23 told me to have a seat. He sat down next to me, picked up a stuffed raccoon and set it on his lap. He spoke, sadly.
“Well, this is where I live.”
“It’s nice,” I lied.
“And this is Mrs. HisLastName”.
“Oh, uh, she’s cute.”
He told me the raccoon was his best friend growing up and kept him company after his dad left. He went on to say that when he was 12 years old he had a ceremony to marry the raccoon and started calling her by his last name.
“Heh, that’s funny,” I said, thinking that 12 was a bit old for that sort of thing.
He turned the raccoon over and showed me where they had consummated their marriage. There was a penis-size hole in the bottom. I reminded myself that he had this crazy scene for a home life and that I had certainly masturbated furiously (and probably distastefully) A LOT at that age.
But he went on.
“And she’s satisfied me ever since.”
My mind raced with absolute panic. I told Date #23 we should get going. He sighed. I knew he trusted me with the truth about himself and I had let him down, but it was just too much.
We walked through the living room, where his mom and brother were still sitting on the couch. I told them both it was nice to meet them, but got no response. Instead she asked Date #23 when he would be home and told him to bring Pepsi.
He dropped me off at my house and asked if I wanted to go to a movie that weekend. I told him I wasn’t sure, but he should call me about it. He never did. I guess we both realized that I could never compete with the raw sexuality of a stuffed woodland creature… I didn’t even want to try. Besides, there was definitely No Vacancy at that Bates Motel.
15 Responses to “100 Bad Dates: #23”
1. Elizabeth says:
I continued to be floored on a regular basis by this column. As in staring-at-the-monitor-speechless-and-jaw-agape floored.
on December 14th, 2009 at 1:43 pm
2. Lex says:
No offense meant.. but where do you find these people??? That last one.. is sad and very high up on the creepy list.
on December 14th, 2009 at 2:22 pm
3. Brando says:
Sounds like an eHarmony success story.
on December 14th, 2009 at 2:32 pm
4. Tupelo says:
This would make a nice country music song.
on December 14th, 2009 at 2:52 pm
5. Jeremy says:
That’s nuts! I half way feel sorry for the guy, though.
on December 14th, 2009 at 3:00 pm
6. Elizabeth says:
I’m starting to believe these stories are made up.
on December 14th, 2009 at 4:00 pm
7. Liberty says:
girls can be freaks to, dog girl comes to mind
on December 14th, 2009 at 6:02 pm
8. 804HACKSAW says:
Liz, I am putting my money on 100% True. Everyone of them. Are you seriously telling me you haven’t been in one of COG’s situations? Who hasn’t? I remember going out with some equally disturbed ladies. The Crier, The Cutter, The Crow, Lady Hamburger, The 40-Year-Old Midget, Squawk Box, Local 419, The Passover, Little Venezuela — all of them were certifiable, bat poo crazy. All of them started with a few dates. It happens.
on December 15th, 2009 at 9:16 am
9. david says:
this breaks the boundaries of believable.
on December 15th, 2009 at 9:48 am
10. Matt says:
Callin’ it!
(He throws the bullshit card down on the table).
on December 15th, 2009 at 11:20 am
11. lydia says:
Oh. No. He. Di-int!
*shudder*
on December 16th, 2009 at 8:42 am
12. Mel says:
I’m with Elizabeth on this one. And Hawk, I was single until the ripe old age of 34 and I had a lot of bad dates, but not that bad and certainly not 100 dates that bad.
on December 16th, 2009 at 2:31 pm
13. jablady123 says:
Having relations with a stuffed woodland creature is prety much on the verge of moderate psychosis. I have way more experience with this diagnosis than I should!
on January 11th, 2010 at 11:39 am
14. Julie says:
Go Google the furry fandom. This fella falls neatly into the plushiephile subset. But don’t go read about it if you’re at work. Trust me.
People are weeeeiird.
on May 20th, 2010 at 3:18 pm
15. Eden says:
Please tell me that “stuffed raccoon” means “plush” not “overly loved family pet subjected to taxidermy.”
on February 1st, 2011 at 12:46 am