Back in my single years, it was no secret I was on the hunt for decent boyfriend. I could tell you a disastrous dating story more frequently than you’d order a dominos. However, the advice I would pass on would only help you if you happened to be unfortunate enough to end up on some of the world’s worst dates – which I managed to do (more than once).
Some of you reading this will already know these stories and no doubt will enjoy for a second time the god awful experiences that I suffered first hand. The worst of the dates can be fitted into a top three I think, the question is which one to use first. Everyone who knows me has a clear favorite but I feel I need to set the scene slightly so you can understand my frame of mind and try to remember that I am the most normal, regular, average girl. I repeat, after you read all the things that have happened to me over the last ten or so years, you will (as everyone always does) assume that there is something wrong with me that I attract all these extreme specimens but I assure you, it was never me, it was always definitely them.
So, the year the awful dates took place, I was 23/24. I was a single mum working two jobs totaling a 62 hour working week, I was massively limited to how I was going to meet people working 6 days and 4 nights a week and then spending my spare time with my lovely then 3 year old daughter. When I did actually go out and meet someone it would take me weeks, literally weeks to get a free night to see someone. So I think I’ll use this as the starting point to give you the first of the worse dates, kicking off with number three on our countdown we have the standard “overkeen non-date date”.
Through one of my jobs I was introduced to our number 3 – I’ll refer to him as Dave. Now many of you may have had a Dave date. So you can empathize on this one (but I doubt you will on date 2 or 1 of my countdown!) I had known Dave for a while, he was a nice bloke and had gone through a bit of a drama with his previous girlfriend. The main topic of conversations between us were usually about kids and how much he loved his ex, he had asked for advice a few times and tried to give steer him away of hideous ideas like sending her a rose everyday and more towards “giving her some space” after the reasons he gave me for why they had broken up.
Now in the kindest way, if Dave had asked me on a date, I would of politely refused, probably using the standard “I’m not really in a good place right now” lines and limited our friendship to strictly work based. Mainly because not only was he not my type, but he was constantly dripping about his ex, why would anyone agree to a date on these grounds? However, Dave did not ask me on a date, he said that he was really glad he had me to talk to and how much better he felt about things when I’d tell him to stop snivelling and give it some time. He followed up with an offer of a casual drink one night to thank me for being there for him and as I knew he was limited when it came to mates (as I felt like I was his bestie with all the advice and whinging) I thought “ergg it will only be an hour out of my life, I can meet him then go out after.” Simple eh?
So it was my first Friday night off in weeks, I had arranged to go to the local for a drink with Dave then was hopping off for a date with an old friend after, heartless as it sounds I was considering cancelling my pre drink with Dave to spend more time on my date hair. But I thought it was bad taste to cancel so late in the day so kept reminding myself it was only an hour. As I was finishing my rushed hair, I heard what I thought was a knock at the door. Now, if anyone has dated in recent years or in fact simply been a human in recent years, you will know that when someone is picking you up, unless it’s your long term boyfriend or a friend who wants to borrow something from your house, you would simply text to say you are there, at a push a phone call or if you are really impatient and it’s a reasonable hour you could beep your horn. But you would never, EVER get out to knock someone’s door.
At the sound of this knock interrupting me, I’ve looked outside and recognising no cars I’ve been forced to actually go to answer the stupid door. To my surprise, I open it to see Dave, looking sweaty and smiling in a slightly eerie manor, just standing there. Once I’d told him I wasn’t ready and sent him to his car to wait (no chance was he coming) I had to go back upstairs to get my bag together, I put on some flat shoes (more evidence of the non-date) and I was literally fuming he was ten minutes early and perturbed at the door knock.
I’ve gone out and still couldn’t see a car I recognised then Dave kindly pulls up outside in a car newer than his usual one, so once I’m safely inside and I’ve directed him to the local I ask about the car, he replies that he’s borrowed it from a friend as his was in the garage. Once we got to the pub we got a drink and sat down and I swear that was the last normal thing that occurred for the next hour.
Once we were sitting down Dave asked if I liked his shirt, I’ve gave him the once over and thought, (in the nicest most inoffensive way ever meant) is that from Matalan? It was a very basic bizarre shade of yellow with an unnecessary polo shirt collar (which was white) and some faded white number printed on it. Then came the first alarm bell, he announced he had been shopping that day and it took him ages to find something he liked, at this I asked if he was saving the thing he liked for a special occasion, he just laughed at me and this must have been when I made the first of my faces of the evening. Next, he made reference to the fact he was hoping his ex wasn’t in the same place as us, again I innocently responded something about it being hard to see your ex with someone else but that you get over it. The third awkward moment before I realised what was happening was after Dave came back from the bar for the second or third time, now remember I was only there an hour start to finish…
It dawned on me Dave was possibly on his third pint in the hour, when he returned and mumbled out- with the worst delivery you can imagine to an unknowing me, “the barman just said I’m here with the best looking girl in the bar”…AWKWARD.
My first instinct was to call him a liar (we all know the barman definitely didn’t say any such thing) but I’ve learnt that when you say these things sometimes people confuse you calling them a liar with what they think is your attempt to gain reassurance as if you are putting yourself down and that’s just even worse, so I brushed it off with a forced half laugh and asked Dave how many pints he had actually had now. Then it all went horribly wrong, he announced he was on his third since we got there and then a few before he came to settle his nerves. At this point it has dawned on me that the new shirt he bought that day was clearly this yellow thing, that he had intentionally knocked my door and he had been labouring under the misapprehension that this was a date.
Being the diplomat I am, I was straight on to this thinking I would casually drop in that I’m on a date after this and ask what he was planning on doing, which went down amazingly well (imagine the teeth baring emoji)…He was slightly angry, offended and clearly annoyed (whilst still being sweaty and constantly brushing his FRINGE upwards). He said he thought that we were out for the night and that we were going for a curry then into town, which only proved it wasn’t a date for me as that’s not anything I would even agree to. By now, I have sent an SOS text to be picked up asap from the pub, after a few minutes of silence I thought enough time had passed to tell Dave that I was sorry about the mix up but that it was only a drink as friends for me. You can imagine how hugely embarrassing this was as if I had realised I would never have let it get to this point. He seemed to be taking it well until I refused a lift home, I pointed out that he was massively over the limit and suggested he definitely doesn’t attempt to drive, to which he responded with the most awkward line of the night.
“Well I can’t leave it here, I’ve bloody hired it for the day, I’ll get charged if I don’t get it back early enough in the morning!”
I said my goodbyes and scooted off home to get ready for my real date. However the date continued to haunt me, at work in the weeks that followed anyone who knew us both asked how our “date” had gone, it appears he had told everyone he worked with that he was taking me out and had booked the day off as holiday so he wasn’t in a rush (Can I point out that whilst he thought all the above was “cute” I found it completely weird and over the top. Men- girls will not appreciate these actions you will just look mentally unstable- you’re welcome).
The moral here is simply to always check that both people agree a date is a date. I mean poor Dave had taken a day’s holiday, bought a new top, hired a new car and had pre-drank his nerves away to the point of putting him over the limit. And all for what? The only positive from this is I have a story for worst date number three on my countdown, I assure two and one are even more horrific by quite some lengths. So if you will be offended by sexual references or potential highly sore faces from laughing at my misfortunes – probably best to give the next few a miss!
PS for anyone worried about Dave we are no longer in contact, this will not reach him, I am not evil, they are not photos from our date and his name was NOT Dave (or is that a double bluff!)
No really he was not called Dave -sorry to any Dave’s reading this or people who know a Dave who may unfortunately be characteristically similar.