Comic Relief: 'Worst Date Ever'

A little "Comic Relief!" to help you smile through the trials and tribulations of the mid-week madness. Let’s face it, some of us have forgotten them, but we’ve all been on bad dates. It’s time to share my story and hear your worst experiences.

So it’s been a while since this date happened, but have I got a story for you today. It involves a restaurant with bad food, a skunk attack and having to interact with police all on a first date. But we’ll get to that “in a minute, not yet” to quote a former boss of mine. 

As a prelude, I would absolutely love to hear your stories. Not necessarily the “who” and “when” (protect the innocent or not-so-innocent who may or may not have learned a valuable life lesson), but certainly the what. We can have some fun with this topic, so let’s do just that.

OK, OK, so some people might be fortunate and not have a story to share. Good for you. No, GREAT for you! But I’m willing to bet most of us do.

Now bad dates come in all shapes and sizes. It can be that awkward first date, happening with someone you realize instantly you just aren’t compatible with, or it could be the point in a relationship where you realize that for whatever reason, the romance was completely gone. Heck, it could even be the worst pick-up line you have heard in a while - feel free to share those too.

So why bad dates as a “Comic Relief!” topic? Well, it’s simple really. Sometimes the best way to get over a bad date is to laugh about what gave you an anxiety attack then, and the best way to help someone else out is to let them know the old adage stands true: it really could be worse.

Of course, if you are looking for advice on how to classily (or jokingly) walk away from the bad date, you could always use the advice presented through www.yourtango.com. They use a 20-minute time period for the awesome phone call to let you walk away, a plan that really isn’t a bad idea at all in case the man (or woman) is just a creep.

For those with a little less patience, and a little more flair, the alternative to waiting that long is to use the “Lemon Law,” a concept made popular by my favorite TV show and comedic hit “How I Met Your Mother.” See the link for more on what the Lemon Law is.

Now, it’s time for the good stuff – the story you’ve all been waiting for.

I was about 23 at the time, just out of a long-term relationship and back on my feet after taking some off from the whole dating seen. I met this girl I thought was awesome and asked her out. I had a big night planned: dinner at a restaurant, a nice walk through a beautiful scenic setting and, if all went well, finish with a nightcap back at my place.

No, this was not “one night of fun.” At least it was not intended to be. It would, however, be our first date and our last. Don’t worry, this is PG and we never made it to my place.

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So I go to pick-up my date, who was running an hour behind schedule and left me sitting alone with her parents the whole time she got ready. Awkward - really awkward, actually, as dad was all Rodney Atkins-esque about his daughter dating. He didn’t actually show me the gun, but I got the point.

We finally go out to a restaurant that was supposed to be a classy seafood place, much like . The difference is I’ve eaten at Mainely Seafood a dozen times with not a single complaint – I ate at this place, which will go unnamed and is no longer open, once and would never go back.

We go in and the woman, who told me she likes anything, proceeds to say she doesn’t like anything on the menu and eventually orders a salad of which she won’t even eat the lettuce. I order a pasta dish where they forgot to cook the seafood included. Strike One.

But I shrug it all off. What else was I supposed to do?

Now being a nice night in early June, the plan was to walk and check out some of the scenery at a nearby golf course and just enjoy the evening, you know? We didn’t make it past the first hole, however.

I’d been there a hundred times before without ever having any issues. It was beautiful, with pristine landscaping next to a nice forest area. It was always calm and always precious. Not that night – not with a neighboring animal about to make his presence well known to us.

We came to a hill and went to sit for a second when all of a sudden, a dark shadow came flying towards us. As it got closer, I began to see what lied ahead: a skunk. And we weren’t talking Flower from the movie Bambi. This was a mean old boy. She screamed at the top of her lungs (or maybe it was me, I can’t really remember) as we turned to run but got hit with a little spray anyways. Not a lot, but enough to count.

“Great,” I thought to myself. Strike Two.

So we trek back through the now not-so-beautiful golf course on our way to try and get cleaned up. We smell, not as bad as we could have, but still not pretty – well, mainly me as I took the brunt of it on the left calf. And guess who is waiting for us at the top of the course? Yes, you got it: the police.

I explain what happened and being a bit sweaty, a bit stinky and a bit out of breathe, I figured he’d just laugh and let us on our way. Nope. He asks her if I was being abusive, questions the smell and eventually searches me. Not exactly how I planned on ending the night. Strike Three.

Needless to say, I took her home and we never did discuss a second date.

But as I said above, it could be worse. Don’t believe me? Well, check out this video by clicking the link and you’ll see for yourself just how bad it can get.

You’ve now heard my story – I want to hear yours. Call it my way of breaking the ice and getting everyone together for a laugh at what “never happened” or has rather been locked in the back of our minds.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.

It's only Wednesday, but it feels like the weekend should have been here two days ago. You have a full plate ahead, lots of work left to do, classes at or college to sit through or are just plain in need of a break. We have you covered.

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