Filed under: Bad Dates | Tags: bad date stories, Bad Dates, Bad Dates contest, Merrimack Rep, Merrimack Repertory, Merrimack Repertory Theatre, MRT
Here are two stories entered in the Bad Dates contest. If you have been on a bad date, email your story to firstname.lastname@example.org for your chance to win a great date prize. Contest details are below the stories. Enjoy!
My friend Susie gave me a membership in a dating service for my birthday. Bachelor number one met me at a local restaurant for dinner. He had shoulder-length white hair, coke-bottle glasses, and was dressed for a night at the Grand Ole Opry. He told me he was widowed, lived in a trailer park, and had been saving up for this night for several weeks. Just as I was wondering if ordering soup and salad would be an extravagance, I smelled something burning. His menu was on fire. Apparently he failed to notice the lit candle in the center of the table. He extinguished the flames with his water glass and simultaneously drowned the bread basket. Our waitress graciously escorted us to another table.
Half-way through the meal, he excused himself to use “the facilities.” A few seconds later I heard a shriek. Apparently, he had wandered into the ladies room. After he finally sorted it out and returned to the table, I noticed he had about six inches of toilet paper stuck to his cowboy boot. I prayed not to encounter anyone I knew. When the check came, he left the exact amount and told me he didn’t believe in tipping. I felt so sorry for the poor waitress that I told him I left my gloves at the table so I could go back and leave a ten dollar bill. I waved good-bye (forever) as he drove away in his rusty pick-up truck complete with gun rack!
To be Honest…
Barry claimed to be 5’8” (my height) on his online profile. I’m hardwired to like guys at least my height, so when he stood up at Legal Seafood to greet me for the first time, I was dismayed. He was 5’5.”
“You’re not 5′ 8”,” I remarked.
There wasn’t much I could do except sit down. He had a little lisp. I’d heard a lisp like that years ago my ex-husband and I got married. The justice of the peace sounded exactly like him. Barry told me about his prostrate cancer and recent bankruptcy over a glass of wine.
“Look Barry, you’re a nice guy, but you shouldn’t tell a woman things like that on a first date.”
“When am I supposed to tell her? What if she finds out later? She’d say I wasn’t being honest.”
“I see your point, but there’s a time for honesty. You didn’t have any problem lying about your height.”
He smiled slyly. “I like you. You’re very direct.” He then told me about his involvement with community theatre and how he loved to sing.
When our glasses were empty, he walked me to my car, in the Mall’s parking lot.
“I’d like to sing to you,”
“That’s okay, really.” I looked around nervously.
“Just a little song?”
“I guess. Just sing softly, okay?”
Barry belted an off-key version of Younger than Spring Time as I cringed inside, while continuing my vigilance until the end.
It was only recently when going through my files that I came across my tattered marriage certificate where the justice of the peace had signed his name. It was Barry.
This isn’t the only bad date that Chava has been on. You can read more on her Dates from Hell Blog.
RULES/HOW TO ENTER
Send us an email at email@example.com telling us your bad date story (no more than 250 words).
Comment on this story on our blog telling us your bad date story (no more than 250 words).
Entries will be posted on the MRT Blog and will be judged by a panel of specially selected judges with proven expertise at the art of bad dating,
In order to win we must have your name and email address.
Remember to keep your stories PG-rated. Entries will be judged for outrageousness, believability, and storytelling panache. 1 winner will be chosen on March 10th.
1 winner will receive a $50 gift certificate to La Boniche in Lowell, a bottle of champagne, and 2 tickets to Bad Dates.
All entries must be received by March 8th.
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