How Not to Get Laid

Valentine’s Day was probably not the best night for a first date, but we were both single and I figured it might make a good story if things actually worked out. We met at a restaurant, though I didn’t learn until we met up that she didn’t have a car and conned a friend of hers into driving her over to the restaurant at the last minute. Things started off on a decidedly low point when she asked me right off the bat if my parents were divorced because she was also looking to set up her mother, and wouldn’t it be fun for us to go out on a double-date: me and my dad with her and her mom. (My parents just celebrated their 35th wedding anniversary this past August.)

Over dinner, she began to tell me about her prior boyfriends, most of whom had been abusive in various ways. I also heard of her parents’ messy divorce, her father’s alcoholism, her repressed memories that are starting to surface (some of which involved more abuse) and about a thousand other details about her life – mostly because I couldn’t get in a word edgewise.

She somehow conned me into a ride home after dinner because she hadn’t pre-arranged a ride and it was cold outside. The drive was worse. During the 15-minute ride back to her place, she debated out loud about whether or not to tell me her secret, then decided to tell me. She had been raped a few years ago by a family friend, so now she carries “defense” with her at all times. “Defense” turned out to be the hunting knife with the five-inch-long blade that she pulled out of her purse to show me. It’s a testament to my nerves that I didn’t drive off the side of the road when she unsheathed that thing.

When we got back to her apartment building, she didn’t get the hint when I unlocked the doors to the car to let her know that it was her time to get out. She stayed in the car for another 20 minutes, yammering on and on and on… I tried yawning, surreptitiously adjusting the heat down so it would get cold in the car, playing with the radio, but none of it worked. I finally had to flat out say something along the lines of “Well, I’ve got work in the morning, I should be getting home.” When she heard this, she started pouting and invited me up to her apartment where she’d “keep me awake.” I wanted none of her sleep remedies, so I stood firm and said I should probably get home.

Somewhere along the way, I had managed to say something about the fact that I didn’t kiss on the first date (not true, though I used the excuse because I didn’t want to kiss her) so before leaving, she said, “I know you don’t kiss on the first date, but I do and I think you’re looking SO KISSABLE.” She launched herself at me, but I was able to turn my head in time and she nailed me on the cheek. The air reeked with her disappointment as I said, “Well, thanks… good night.” She finally got out of the car, and I took off.

The next day, I got an e-mail from her saying that she had a very nice time and she really liked me, but she was very put out by the fact that I didn’t take her up on her invitation to come upstairs. Would I like to come over tonight? She’s got a washer and dryer at her place, so I can “do laundry, hint hint.” I politely wrote back that I had plans to go out with a friend, and I’d had these plans for a while (which was the truth). She wrote back another disappointment-laced e-mail, containing another invitation to her place for the following night. Sorry, I wrote back, I had plans to go out with friends. She wasn’t getting the hint though, and she wrote another e-mail telling me that I was offending her Southern hospitality (she grew up in Florida) and that she’d be very upset if I didn’t come over to her place sometime over the weekend.

I had to write back a final note, saying that it was very nice to have met her, but I just didn’t think things would work out between us. I wished her luck in her quest for her Man (she had made references to her quest several times during the course of our dinner, and I swore I could hear the “m” capitalized when she said it), but said that I didn’t think I was the one for her. I, naturally, got another ranting e-mail back that I had to ignore.

Submitted by Keith, Age 30, Los Angeles

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