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I pushed him away. Thank god my date was already back in the car. Here, 12 guys give their most cringeworthy first-date stories, purely for your enjoyment.
The last was a thing he stated with pride. SFAR Breakups are an unpleasant and inevitable part of life. All the standard stuff.
After a bad breakup, I let my mom set me up with the son of one of her jesus. Since men thinks farts are hilarious, he locked the car windows and turned up the heater. After dinner, Margaret went to her hotel room to change into her ballgown. Finally he pulled away, pointed at my face, and said, 'What's that. Maybe this was a autobus date for him. Lot of coffee, and I noticed a pile of raisins on the side of the plate. 
10 First Date Horror Stories That Are Actually Pretty Funny - Handsome, charming, seemingly normal, so I agreed to go on another date with him.
Now, in our final installment of this very special dating survey roundup, we bring you: The Most Horrific Things Encountered While Online Dating. A word of warning here? Most of these are really funny. And then, in a small section towards the end, some of them are absolutely not funny. She really loved manatees, and eventually she jumped from her boat into the water and landed on a manatee. But the manatee was actually dead, and the body ended up falling apart and she was covered in dead manatee slime and someone had to fish her out and clean her up. After some words of consolation from me about how fucked up that experience must have been, she told me she made it up, and every other story she had told me that night, because she likes making up stories. It was an amazing WTF moment and I never talked to her again. I am still baffled by it. She wore mirrored wrap-around sun glasses. It was delicious, but he proceeded to pick out every single piece of fat from his mouth and made a pile of it on the side of his plate. It was perilously close to that scene from Boogie Nights. He wanted to own thirty dogs. He had their names and breeds picked out already. At the time he owned no dogs at all. The first is when I waited an hour outside at Harvard Square in late January because my date was in the North End buying pot not for me. While I am sure it was great for her, it was just not where I expected to be on a first date. Girl followed me on twitter. Girl randomly started replying and cursing at my tweets. I suggested that he must really treasure his vegetable garden or something in order to put up with 2. He told me that when he bought his house, he hired a landscaper to tear everything out and replace it with gravel. He called me a hippie for growing my own vegetables. I love TV, so I thought that was a good sign. Our server brought us a bread basket that my date grabbed three of four rolls from and then started playing weird games with. Like, she would scoop dough out of a roll, pound it into a little ball, and then put it back in the basket! She would then fill the little remaining crust-boat with olive oil, take a bite from it, and refill it. It reminded me of that, which might say more about me as lousy digital dater than her. On the phone it had come up that he was a Redsox fan — I am a diehard Yankees fan. But I thought a little rivalry could be fun — I have a lot of Yankee fan friends who have married Redsox fans and they both have a sense of humor about it! She never mentioned that prior to our meeting. The movie was one of those free movies-in-the-park, and it just so happened to be Spongebob Squarepants and the park was full of children. I hate Spongebob Squarepants. I explained, nicely, why it bugged me, and he said he was glad he found out early how ugly I was on the inside. As we were sitting outside of the coffee shop enjoying some nice conversation he told me how he was working on writing some music. He then proceeded to sing, very loudly, his current endeavor in song writing. It was about killing unicorns and no he was not being ironic. In line, we ran into an old coworker of his, they chatted. I looked at my watch — 3:30pm. I was completely stunned! It was the only thing he talked about, no exaggeration, for 70% of the date. He asked me what I do creatively and I told him succinctly that I obsessively document everything. Anyone can be taught. We go on the date in a quiet Indian restaurant, where I realize this guy is the LOUDEST TALKER EVER. He was facing the window, I was facing the restaurant, so he could not see the number of people turning in their chairs and craning necks to see who the hell was SO INCREDIBLY LOUD. Over and over, he noted at top decibels that we MET ON MATCH. Finally, I tell him that I have had a really rough week, a friend had passed away and work was really stressful, and apologize for being subdued. A girl at another table facing me, clearly on a date herself, was shooting me Class 5 sympathy looks. Also, the things he liked, like computer science and entrepreneurship, were not things I liked. But we had a plan to go check out some unusual international grocery stores in his neighborhood south of Prospect Park, so we did — and at every single one, he made a huge fuss over pointing things out to me and telling me what they were. Unfortunately, by the time we got to the park, it was about to start raining, so we were pretty much stuck underneath this little shelter in the park waiting for the storm to blow over. It was a bad situation. Luckily, the rain let up eventually, and he showed me how to get to the subway, and I escaped, my heart pounding. It was was also her last communication before she admitted that she was still in the middle of something with a boy and would I kindly not contact her again. So I check this guy and he seems really nice, but he has a kid, which is on my list of deal-breakers. Sorry, and good luck! After he took a bite. He was tall, cute, and an artist. So he sends me this super thoughtful, complimentary, clearly researched e-mail that went into depth about several of our shared interests, asked questions, etc. He sent me pictures of his artwork! I still have them. After two weeks of this, this guy is basically my boyfriend in my mind. I mean, I sent myself an e-mail to make sure my e-mail was still working. I think I even e-mailed him again to ask if he got my e-mail. Then the same thing happened with two more guys, then I made a rule that you set up a meeting after the first e-mail exchange, then I met a guy and we dated for four years, then we got married last July. How I Became a Dead Fictional Character Oh, god. He maintained a Geocities website for his writing, and as soon as he got my email, he added me to his mailing list. We order at the counter and go to sit down. He has to use the restroom and takes all his books and other possessions in with him, as if leaving them with me would be unsafe. More terrible things happen I can elaborate if need be and I finally decide I need to make my excuses and bolt. A few days later I receive an email from his listserv and notice that one of his new stories shares a title with a fairly unique phrase I had worn on a button. The story is told in the first person. I just dress this way to repel men! I googled his name, and found a bunch of amazon wish lists and accounts on sci-fy nerd discussion boards. So then I saw a link to a Vanity Fair article about the Menendez brothers. Turns out my potential online date murdered his father when he was a teenager, and as a cover up, had concocting a complicated plot involving foreign assassins. The plot was plausible enough to garner worldwide media attention after his father was killed. Of course, police eventually discovered it was my date who killed his father, he was tried for first degree murder, and defended by the attorney who went on to defend one or both of the Menendez brothers hence his mention in the article. My date was ultimately convicted of involuntary manslaughter his mother and sister testified that the father was a violent and sadistic abuser , and served no prison time. Eventually, his life led him to eharmony and to me. Opening act was a comic who did her entire routine about how shitty online dating is, and how all the dudes are big, fat losers who are gross. That was the beginning of the end. When the act we came to see came on, they were much more … raw? Turns out she was a fan of them only from tv, a medium in which they had sharply toned down their usual act. By that point, I just got drunk and laughed about it. After that, we never spoke or exchanged emails again. This was after a few too many dates that ended twisting up a lot more then just my sheets. I started corresponding with a guy who worked near by, sent me poems and complimented my on-line pictures with vigor. We decided to meet for a date, and I picked him up on a street corner where he met me with a bouquet of irises. As we drove across the bridge to the city, he stared at me and told me how I was even prettier then my picture. It started to feel a little icky… why do women like this? Anyways, we went out to eat in China Town and he began to unfold the requisite life story. Turns out he had grown up Jewish in a small town in the south, Mississippi, I think. People had been unfathomably cruel to him, they had burned crosses and driven his mother to alcoholism. They had killed every pet he had ever owned. This guy had been tortured psychologically. It was a lot to take in. As we moved to the dessert course, we talked about the next stage of his life when he moved to Chicago for college. But, his family demons followed him there and he spent the last ten years caring for his mentally ill mother while getting a PhD in math. He told me that he thought life was full of evil and hatred, and then he suggested we go get a drink. We ended up at a bar where he then guided the conversation to the topic of Israel vs. He ordered a beer and insisted. Boom — it was on, for him. He began poking me in the chest and yelling, I kept asking him to drop the subject… he got louder. After trying again and again to change the subject, I finally said I want to go home. A half-hour drive full of blessed icy silence ensued. When we arrived, I had to get out and get his briefcase out of the trunk. He tried to kiss me there in the foggy street. I pushed him away. I drove home feeling like a shitty shitty person. Names were exchanged and, realizing I was on a date, he wrapped things up quickly and went and sat down in another part of the bar. I thought she was saying that she considered my friend coming over and chatting for all of five minutes was rude, so I started to defend his behavior. When he got back from the bar, he launched into his new thing, which was… Scientology. Topics discussed: the auditing process, past life regression, being reduced to hysterical sobbing during a session of some kind, Earth as a repository for lost souls, superior alien societies. It was fascinating, I have to say, but it was also profoundly depressing. I was disgusted, obviously, and just completely shocked that this guy would come at me with such racist bullshit within 5 minutes of meeting. I spilled my coffee and said, Oops, guess that means I should go. They arrive, and I do enjoy them! I still have the red velvet box. I think, what the hell, I have done one or two insecure things in my time, I should give the guy a break. So I meet him at a bar, and he proceeds to be very very silent. Go ahead and tell me what I am. I never pulled taffy. So I try the usual: What do you do? I ask him if he has any siblings, and that was the question. Maybe this was a good date for him. He was sweet, intelligent. Anyway, one day, we meet. I pick him up in my car. Lo and behold, he is really, really ugly. Terrible acne, overweight, just… kind of repulsive. Since I was going there anyway, my brother asked me to pick him up some beer. The date consisted of me meeting the woman at her apartment, and finding she was already pretty drunk. We went out to eat at a steakhouse she insisted I drive her Camaro , where she berated the waiter so badly and for such a trivial reason that I found the manager while she was in the bathroom and apologized. We had time to kill before our movie, so we went to a bookstore. While at the bookstore, I mentioned that at some point I needed to go to a store and buy some beer see reason above. We agree on a restaurant in another, distant-ish part of the city, and dude decides he wants to walk there instead of taking the subway. Though my boots have annoying heels, I try to be a good sport and agree. He insists that instead of dinner, he absolutely HAS to take me to his absolute-favorite-in-the-whole-world gelato shop, which just happens to be a couple of blocks away. So we enter this tiny, tiny gelato shop, and I notice that there are only two chairs — stools, really — in the whole place, placed very close together in a tiny corner with a tiny little counter, and I start to get nervous. I turn away from dude to look at some display of artisan chocolate or something and surreptitiously gnaw my hand. He takes that as a positive sign, I guess. Dude ushers me, still stunned, into the tiny little corner onto one of the tiny little stools. He takes the other stool, and then puuuulllllls my stool closer, right between his knees. He feeds me gelato. He actually presses the spoon to my closed lips until I open my mouth. At this point, I busy myself with drinking water to avoid being fed further spoonfuls of gelato and fake an emergency phone call with a nearby friend. I make my excuses, and run out of there to her place, where I manage to obtain real food and booze and laugh and cry and laugh. I have to take some ownership of this bad date — I should have been way less polite and more assertive about my own needs. We made arrangements to meet at a stuffy Cambridge watering hole. And she was not happy about it! I, on the other hand, was mortified. This fraction of a second set the tone for the rest of the evening which was to be predictably brief , and we soldiered our way through a single drink together which as I may have mentioned was actually my second, thank god. She was not only visibly displeased with our little arrangement but went out of her way to make this as evident as possible: she was pissy, sour, and completely uninterested in making the best of this awful situation, something I was trying and failing oh so miserably to do. In short, it was the most excruciating half hour of my professional dating life. As soon as we both realized there was most certainly not going to be another round she started angrily protesting the inattentiveness of our actually perfectly attentive waitress I guess because I was so off-putting that the bill had to be paid RIGHT NOW and she got up and stormed off to the bathroom. So we walked out together. I went on a date with a blind guy — he ended up PHONE STALKING me for months, MONTHS. He sang songs on my answering machine, either telling me how he deserved another chance or telling me what a huge bitch I was. I met men who told me they were single and then three dates in told me they were married. I met a man who said he was 45 but was probably 70. I met a man who showed up faking an English accent, wearing satanic goat-head jewelry, and wearing a girdle — I only know about the girdle because the cops shook him down. Since I am the common denominator in all these disastrous dates, I think the problem is me. I must have had a terrible screening process. We met at a bar, and she was super attractive I really wanted to bang her but also wanted to be a gentleman so I deferred to conversation. We talked for 6 hours. She came over to my place on that weekend where some friends and I were having a fire. She texted me at 2AM from inside my house asking if she could stay over after taking her friend downtown. She stayed over and we had awesome sex. We continued having awesome sex every day that week. And we actually had a lot more in common then sex. Like birds and stuff. Then she mostly disappeared. She wrote me a big ol email about being busy for a while she was finishing her thesis and I was dumb in ignoring the writing on the wall. And this book on the history of graphic design that she said was her favorite. A few weeks went past, and I emailed her to see if we could meet up to exchange our stuff. She had my binoculars. Then she moved to Iowa with my fucking binoculars. But I still have her pillow and book. But not the panties. They had stains in them. But I would totally have negative sex can you do that? So when I go to leave and his girlfriend current? It was very dramatic. But after the second time I noticed cash missing from my wallet after he spent the night, I told him to stop calling me. The atmosphere and food were great! The company not so much. We leave, he then asks me back to his place. I decline and hop in a cab and head to a dive bar to meet up with my friends and tell them about the date. A few days later I receive a text about how ungrateful I was for a great meal and the least I could have done was put out. I was the snob and I totally missed out on being with a great guy who could have provided me financial security blah blah blah. I then received a barrage of text messages, each more vulgar than the last. I was a whore, slut, cunt, bitch, fag, gold digger, trailer trash who fucks for tracks His words not mine. He grills me from across the room, and my current boyfriend has exchanged words with him on more than one occasion. He was in an ugly homemade tshirt that loudly proclaimed his religious preferences to the world in about 12 different fonts and 13 different colors. I was in a denim skirt and summer blouse. He seemed rather needy, but not awful. We said goodbye after the film and he vaguely mentioned doing something the next day. I told him I usually used Sundays to run errands and the like. By the time I pulled out of the parking garage, I had a text message. Four more text messages by the time I made it the 30 minute drive home. After church I forgot to turn my phone back on until I got home from the gym around 3pm. During that time I missed 17 text messages, 5 phone calls and 3 emails. Highlights include: how pretty I was, how my toenail polish made my toenails shiny, how smooth my legs looked, etc. The entire missive expressed again and again how compatible he thought we were and how amazingly well he thought the date went and how I had to go out with him again. We went to a martini bar on Bowery and proceeded to have three i think pretty damn strong drinks. We got in a cab to go to her place, and attacked each other in the back seat of it, groping a bunch. We got back to her place, and she asked me up. I declined, on account of it being the first date. At first, things seemed normal: we met up, went to a bar, had a beer or two and chatted. All the standard stuff. However, as the night went on, Joe started pulling tricks from The Game. Things took a turn for the the what-the-fuck when he started asking to touch my butt and for me to touch his dick through his pants. Yes, really: a shot of my naked butt, in the bathroom, to be texted to him. After about half an hour of being shamed for being boring, I tried to do so, but no luck: I am physically incapable of taking a proper ass shot. I was happy about this, to be honest. Judge all you want — I had just gotten out of a hellish relationship that had been short on the orgasms toward the end. WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT? After some mediocre doggie style because I was not going to be face to face with a laughing old man while being fucked by a younger one , I made my escape. I had had my first adventure in Single New Yorker-dom! And it was done. Or so I thought. PSA for the dudes: if a girl NEVER responds to your texts, give up. However, this soon — in less than a week — turned into long, drawn out conversations about our hypothetical although to him, not hypothetical future together, including children, holiday plans, and disturbing things he wanted to do with breast milk. So I go to check out his profile, and am smacked in the face by his photo. He is the identical twin of a good friend of mine. I mean, A RUSSIAN! Turned out that he was involved, in varying degrees of seriousness, with a whole bunch of other women many of whom he met online! He seemed really normal when I first met him in real life, too. During the post-coital lounge, he told me that he had asked me out again only because he was curious about how I would react, because I seemed so strange. Anyway, we finally go out I pay and also drive to the other end of town to pick her up. I ask her out again and she says yes I paid and drove again. Again a 3rd time at a really nice place for her birthday yup, I paid and drove. Again a 4th time we split the bill but I still drove. And still not even so much as a kiss. The Glass is Half Full-ish! I mean, like, FIVE calls from his mom. The upside was that he was a clerk at a video store I frequented, so I got some free rentals out of the deal. He had been divorced for over a year, but still super bitter about it. No excuses on my part for why I kept talking to him. He got married 4 months later, and then had a kid. He tried chatting with me online a few times after those things occurred to tell me he acted the way he did because he was scared of the things he was feeling about me. That is, everything he said and did seemed to be previously thought out and scripted according to some bizarre Game Theory. The one thing that really sticks out from this well-polished routine was the way he undressed- he made sure to dramatically lower his shirt with his back facing me, so I could watch him flex his big ugly kanji tattoo. He also barked like a seal while in the throes. His favorite restaurant in the entire city. And I say yes, without asking where. LongHorn + Fenway is not my idea of a dream date when there are local amazing options that are NOT in Fenway. Not too much leg or cleavage, but dressed up. And when I arrive, my date is already there. I did not recognize him at first because I did not expect him to be wearing a sweat suit, nor did I expect him to have brought his roommate. We proceed to have a strange meal where he relentlessly flirts with his roommate and then makes both sexist and racist jokes. I do not ask. I take care of my share and assume we have both had a terrible time. But apparently it was only me. I continued to get emails for the next few months. The last was a thing he stated with pride. After an hour or so of our dinner date, we decided to walk to a nearby movie theater. On the way, he assaulted me, and the only reason I got away was because someone walking past saw him and starting angrily making his way towards my asshat of a date. Took me quite a while to get over that one and willingly get back on the online dating wagon. Apparently, he had been standing across the street so that he could check me out from afar. I go to his house to watch movies. I wake up alone, as he has already gone to work. After I had traveled a pretty big distance to meet with him. I found out later he lived across the street from my parents and he was abusive to his dog. God, I can hardly type it. He was a teacher at a prestigious private school. For our second date he took me to his classroom, and for our third, he wanted me to come to a school fundraising dinner. He was sent home!!!!