100 Bad Dates: #30

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 #30 was a big-time jock who was living a version of the Springsteen song, “Glory Days.” From the moment I met him and signed for his package (What? He was our UPS guy at work), he talked incessantly about what a big shot he had been on the college football field. But that wasn’t what won me because I don’t know or care crap about sports. In fact, I barely heard any of the blah blah blah record-holding quarterback stuff. No, the thing that convinced me to go out with him (and it took very little convincing at that) was his six-foot-eight-inches of chiseled muscle. He was like a sexy giant.

Date #30 wanted to take me to a double feature at a drive-in movie which, really, could mean only one thing. Fresh off of a 10-year roller coaster of a relationship, I was down for that one thing.

We met at his place where I saw his ride for the first time. Grandmother, what a big truck you have! This thing would have been at home in an arena, crushing small cars. I made a joke about the size of the beast and overcompensating, and he laughed. He helped me up into the cab (not kidding), and we were on our way. When we arrived at the drive-in theater, he parked at the back because, let’s face it, weren’t nobody gonna see around that monster.

He talked, nonstop about awards he had won and how all of the sorority girls were hot for him. He went on about how he was to go pro, but had hurt his knee. He also admitted to having gotten his degree without really earning it. In fact, he said, he hadn’t attended very many classes at all. He was pretty nice, but I wasn’t as interested in what he used to be as what he could be: nude.

Date #30 talked through the whole first movie and intermission. A short way into the second movie he stopped, abruptly. He looked at me, expectantly. I realized he had obviously said something that required a response, but at some point I had tuned out.

“Sorry?” I said.

“I said, ‘Do you want to make out?'” he repeated.

Heck yes I did. He kissed me hard, and it was hot. We played heavygropeymakeout for far too long, and he finally asked if I wanted to go back to his place.

We got back to the house that Date #30 shared with two roommates, whom I briefly met on our way through to his bedroom. It was obvious we were not really there for a coffee klatch, and they exchanged knowing glances as we hurried away. As if I cared. His room was messy and slightly musty. I had to wait while he pushed some questionable looking clothing off of the bed, then fell on it.

“Get undressed” he whispered.

While I was doing that, Date #30 did, too, and climbed in and got under the covers. We started making out again and, finally, I moved below the now-removed belt. Well, attempted to, anyway. I was confused. What was this I was feeling? Or wasn’t feeling? I tried to keep a look of concern off of my face and continued with the amore. I had to get a better look at what I was dealing with and decided to get face to face with, well, you know. I did…and it was like whoa. From up at the head of the bed, he explained.

“I did these shots when I was playing. To build muscle. They had some side effects.”

Some side effects?

I really wanted him but wasn’t sure I could make it work. It turned out I couldn’t. We tried this way and that, attempting a good portion of the 64 acts described in the Kama Sutra and a few I had invented myself. No one could ever accuse us of not employing creativity. Finally, the mood had passed and we gave up, defeated. We lay there for a minute, and I wondered how long I should stay. We were both embarrassed. Finally, I said, “I should go.”

Date #30 and I went out one more time but, of course, there was no funny business. He was very nice, but I don’t think he was really interested in someone who wasn’t impressed with him. I knew it could never get naughty so wasn’t all that interested, myself. He was trying to relive his “Glory Days,” and I wanted him to “Cover Me,” but knew he could never please my “Tunnel of Love.” I guess in the end I was “Born To Run.”

  • error

    Report an error

The Checkout Girl

The Checkout Girl is Jennifer Lemons. She’s a storyteller, comedian, and musician. If you don’t see her sitting behind her laptop, check the streets of Richmond for a dark-haired girl with a big smile running very, very slowly.

Notice: Comments that are not conducive to an interesting and thoughtful conversation may be removed at the editor’s discretion.

  1. Poor little fella…

  2. Brando on said:


  3. Elizabeth on said:

    Aw, I feel so sorry for that guy!

  4. MattOnFire on said:

    Hey kids! Don’t do steroids or else you’ll end up driving a big ass truck.

  5. what MattOnFire said. I’m dying here.

  6. TGC-Where do you find these guys? I’m only asking because I think I’ve made out with the same guy.

  7. Oh cheese and rice-I wish I could edit my post. TCG, obv.

  8. I think thats the saddest story I’ve ever heard. What a huge (well, tiny) disappointment.

  9. Julie on said:

    I originally came to this site for Brockie’s sake, but I’m discovering how much I love the other columns…thank you for sharing! I’m just now getting around to reading all of this, and it’s great!

    I once had a run in with the opposite problem. Had a heavy teen crush on an older boy in my highschool. Lots of touchy-feely and I knew he was amazingly endowed. Finally got to the moment I’d been looking forward to with the all the ardor of youth, and it lasted all of 4 seconds. I was like, “Are you serious? You’re…DONE??” His response to ease the tension was to tickle me until I spastically flung myself AWAY! I hate tickling. I may be laughing on the outside, but in my head I am murdering my tormentor. I guess it was a good thing for said boy that he was so quick though, because his overprotective mother was due home and he didn’t dare be caught with a girl in his room. Also I should cut him some slack, it was his first time…

    Still, I was very disappointed. Hope he’s learned how to use that thing since then…

Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked with an asterisk (*).

Or report an error instead