In this the final installment of 100 Bad Dates (yes, I know, SIGH), we get a glimpse of how this whole roller coaster started…
Archives: 100 Bad Dates
Date #35 was a DJ. You know, like God. Except he worked at the local college radio station. That could be heard only on the internet. And for no money. So, really, less like God and more like the guy with the biggest vinyl collection and a lot of time on his hands.
Date #89 was another football player. What is it about me and jocks? I swear I am way more about brains than brawn, but when life hands you football-shaped lemons you make leathery-tasting lemonade. And that’s what I did when I met her. That’s right, I said “her.” *Women’s* Professional Football.
Date #9 popped my cherry. Not because I was in love with him, but because I was dying to get it over with. It seemed like so much pressure, the whole deciding who to do it with and when. And with so much build up, how could it not be a let down?
Date #77 was a teacher. My teacher. And I am an infamous apple polisher. It’s like me sitting at a desk (or, in this case, an elongated table) and them standing is somehow the sexiest.
Date #68 was NOT gay, ok? Not even bisexual, so don’t mention it. He was a military man that I met on a street designed for getting drunk. You know the kind, most big cities have them: all old-timey looking, possibly with cobblestones and gaslights, and lined with bars and restaurants.
Date #50 and I met when he was in town visiting a friend. We kept in touch after he went back to his hometown in the Midwest. When he talked of coming back into town to hang out, we settled on New Year’s Eve for our next date.
Date #30 was a big-time jock who was living a version of the Springsteen song, “Glory Days.” From the moment I met him, he talked incessantly about what a big shot he had been on the college football field.
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.
Date #72 was old. Really old. I met him through the free personals where he described himself as “distinguished,” “older,” and “financially stable.” Visions of Demi Moore, Robert Redford (and a million dollars) danced in my head.