Going Dutch
MVWD occurred when I was 17 and visiting my relatives in a suburb of Amsterdam. I will admit, I wasn’t traumatized but in hindsight it was amusing as my first international dating experience.
I had just graduated from high school and went to spend a month in the Netherlands before starting college in the fall. One day, about a week into my visit, a young man (about 17 or 18), P, started hanging around outside. Turns out he was doing house painting at the next house, had spotted me, and wanted to ask me out. However, rather than ask me directly, P asked my older cousin to ask me. I was about to decline, thinking that he didn’t ask me because he didn’t speak English (I could understand quite a bit of Dutch but at that point in my trip, didn’t speak it very well).
But P did speak English so I agreed to the date. We went to a local sports club to go swimming. As we walked there, we made the usual small talk. I told him I was entering college in the fall. He told me about his job painting and other plans he had. We arrived and swam but for me the connection wasn’t there.
We ran into his friends and he introduced me, speaking Dutch the entire time. P must not have realized that I understood Dutch (mostly because he never asked me) and was telling his friends about the “rich American babe that he just bagged.” Even if I was having a fabulous time, this was a major turnoff. It was not that I minded being called a babe – but I did mind being referred to as if I were something to be bagged, tagged, and displayed like a trophy. And I was far from rich so I also felt a little uneasy and on edge with that reference.
As we were walking home, P asked if I would be his girlfriend. I declined, using the excuse that I was only there for three more weeks and didn’t feel that it was appropriate. He then invited himself over for the next night, Saturday. I told him no, my family and I had plans. So he invited himself over for Sunday evening and again, I told him we had plans. Maybe it was my American sensibility but I found inviting oneself over after one date to be really rude.
Two nights later, on Sunday, my family and I came home from dinner out. I spotted P on a bridge near the house as if he were waiting for me and it felt rather like stalking. P expected to come in and watch TV with us. I politely told him that we had been out all day and this was not a good time. I also did not commit to any future get-togethers. The next day, he came to the house asking for water (he was working a few doors down). Bless my aunt’s heart – although I didn’t tell her that he made me uncomfortable, she sensed it and told the guy to get lost.
The rest of my visit was P-free and it was great to see such a beautiful country.
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The Tycoon
My manager at work is on the board of a local civic organization, and attends their meetings once a week. One day he wasn’t available to go, so he asked me to attend in his place and take some notes. At the meeting, I immediately noticed a guy sitting a few seats away from me, as it seemed like he kept staring at me and trying to catch my eye. He was really cute and looked great in his professional suit, and I crossed my fingers hoping he wasn’t actually making eyes at the decent-looking woman sitting next to me (who, by the way, kept clearing her throat and shifting uncomfortably in her chair, bumping me each time she moved.)
Sure enough, as we were all walking out of the meeting, he caught up with me and struck up a conversation (we’ll call him Craig.) Since we both had to get back to our respective jobs, he suggested we meet up for a drink sometime, and we exchanged numbers. He called me the next day and we agreed to meet after work at a trendy little pub that was halfway between our offices. I had butterflies for the rest of the day- it had been AGES since I’d been asked out on a date, and by a handsome, successful stranger in a suit, no less!
When I arrived, he was already seated with a half-empty drink in front of him. As I sat down and we started chatting, it was clear he was already pretty tipsy and starting to slur. I was surprised to find out he’d been drinking at the pub for 2 hours already, and when I apologized (unnecessarily) and asked why he hadn’t set our plans for earlier, he scoffed and said “I make my own hours, I’m not chained to my desk until 5pm like you assistants.” I was shocked into silence. First of all, I’m not an assistant, and second of all, what’s with the snotty attitude?!
For the rest of the date, he drank heavily, talked incessantly about himself and how successful he is, and flirted with our waitress. The few times he asked me anything about myself, he’d flip out his cell phone and start texting away, glancing up at me every once in awhile to say “uh huh…” The only way I knew he had heard a single word is that he’d then make some thinly-veiled insult about whatever I’d said. Also, every five minutes or so, he would make an urgent grab for his phone (which sat on the table the entire time) give me a fake-apologetic look, and get up to wander a few feet away from our table. When he would return, he’d roll his eyes and brag about how his company “just fell apart” when he wasn’t there, and I would politely ask what he was working on at the moment, he replied that he couldn’t talk about it because “it’s pretty top secret and only a few people in the United States know about it.” Ummm, okay, but you can talk about it on your cell phone, in a crowded pub, a few feet away from our table? And because he did this at least 15 times, our date ended up lasting an excruciating 2 hours because he kept scuttling away every time I was about to make my escape. By the way, his phone didn’t ring or vibrate once the entire time. Maybe he had it on silent, but I think it’s far more likely he was just a huge faker.
I finally got fed up and told him I had to go, not even bothering to make up an excuse. He tried to make plans with me again, but I gave him my best bitchy look and said “good luck with everything.” He did text and call me a few times after that, and every time I shuddered with the terrible memory of those 2 hours.
Sidenote: Nearly two years later, I was at a networking event and was re-introduced to the woman who was sitting next to me at the meeting where I’d first met Craig. You know, the one who kept shifting and bumping me? She took one look at me and said, “You were the girl who dated Craig, right?” Turns out, he had dated her for two months before meeting me, and had a girlfriend the entire time. We ended up exchanging our horror stories of dating him and laughing our heads off.
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Seeing Red
My Very Worst Date was our FIRST date on Valentines Day.
‘Mr. Jones’ took me to this FABULOUS and very expensive restaurant. HOWEVER, he neglected one not so small detail…to make RESERVATIONS! DUH! Who doesn’t make reservations for Valentines Day?
So we decided to wait for a table and sat in the bar for several hours, at which time I consumed mass amount of red wine on an empty stomach.
Finally we were seated for dinner. I ordered filet mignon, he ordered steak and lobster. The food arrived just in time for me to go running to the bathroom – where I spent the next hour hugging not my date, but the commode on the floor, in my sexy little red dress that I bought just for Valentines day (nice).
When I finally could stand up, I walked out to find Mr. Jones getting ready to come into the ladies room to check on me. So, we ran out to the car trying to get me home before I hurled AGAIN…
No such luck! (You guessed it, red – and it does not go well with gray floor mats!)
In the rush to get me home, not only did he drive like a maniac but ran a red light – and THEN, in a moment of clarity, remembered that we ran out without paying the bill. Now not only was I sicker than a dog, but a possible criminal as well!
So what else could go wrong? …well helloooo, Officer! You got it – red flashing lights, pulling us over. I didn’t know if it was running the red light or running out on the bill. It was the red light. So while Mr. Jones waited for his citation, I leaned out the car door and puked AGAIN in front of the officer.
Finally Mr. Jones got me home, tucked me in, and RAN! (kidding)
But I think it was after 4:00 PM that I got up the next day and threw out my sexy little red dress. Mr. Jones went back to the restaurant to apologize and pay our bill.
Needless to say, that was our LAST Valentines “date.” We continued to date, but NEVER went out on Valentines Day. We got married and will celebrate our 28th Anniversary this June. But I still am not a fan of Valentines day or the color RED!
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A Bad Reaction
MVWD was in July of this past year; the way that my University works is that we have very intense six-week terms, then long holidays with a lot of reading/independent work: so I tended to have a few jobs a year. I met a foreign exchange student from Poland at one of those jobs (whom I shall call Mat), we clicked, he asked me out, and I said yes (thinking that even if it went tits up I was only there a few months). Mat took me to this play at the Arts theatre near where both of us worked.
I’m going to preface this by saying none of this was his fault…it was just an unfortunate mix of allergy and soap opera.
So we went to the play. The play was terrible. It stank. There was a latex plant-suit involved; it still hurts to remember. But it was fine, we joked a bit after we saw it (out of earshot of the theatre) and continued to a nice outdoor restaurant to have dinner. The dinner was fine; we got through our starter and main course – but I kept getting this feeling that someone was watching me. I brushed it aside throughout the whole meal, because why the hell would someone be watching me? We decided what to have for dessert.
“I know this sounds weird, but I’ve never had raspberry before.” said Mat. So he decided to try a dish with raspberry.
I wish there was a guy in my head who would alert me to foreshadowing.
He started choking, went red all over his face, neck and shoulders, and collapsed – so we called for an ambulance and got rushed off to hospital. Two hours later I’m waiting in Accident & Emergency when a random woman walked in and started yelling at me in a language I later found out was Polish. She brandished PRINTED PICTURES OF ME EATING DINNER THAT NIGHT. PRINTED. And yelled more. She eventually switched to English to say “whore” (ironically, one of the few words I actually know in Polish now), threw the pictures on the ground, and stomped away dramatically.
Another guy (I assume also Polish?), sitting a metre away, gave me a disgusted look, said only “kurwa” (that would be the translation of the above) and shuffled away like I have Adultery written on me. I stayed at A&E mostly out of indecision and shock until they told me they were keeping Mat for the night and he should be fine. I left.
I later found out this was his EX-girlfriend (which Mat, to his credit since it wasn’t really his fault, apologised about). To this day I have no idea how she got those pictures printed so fast.
Mat was fine in the end (and avoids raspberries). The relationship didn’t work out, but we remain friends.
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Big Mooch
MVWD was also my first ever date – I was 15, never been kissed, slightly dorky and, frankly, surprised that someone would ever want to go on a date with me. And he was 18 (dear me!).
To be fair, the date was not only bad because of him, I contributed to it, too. But what a disaster.
He took me to McDonald’s, which, in hindsight, should have been a huge red flag. Instead, I stood awkwardly in line with him, trying to decide what to get. There is really nothing on the menu at McDonald’s that is not going to make me look like a complete tool, though. When it was finally our turn, he told me to order first. What a catch, I thought. He’s a gentleman! (How wrong I was).
Unfortunately, this was in France, and I had never been in a French McDonald’s. I had no clue that in French, they call burgers “sandwiches.” So when the lady behind the counter asked me what sandwich I wanted, I freaked out, and said “what?” She repeated her question, to which I flippantly said “Tuna?”
My date thought this was the funniest thing, and (luckily) he thought I had done this on purpose because I was edgy and different. Asking for a tuna sandwich at McDonald’s. What a crazy gal.
The lady behind the counter became quite cross with me, so I just blurted out “Big Mac” to get out of the situation. I turned to my date, and asked him; “What are you having?”
“Oh, nothing. I am not eating.”
This, of course, made me very uncomfortable. We proceeded to sit at a table where he WATCHED ME EAT. Dainty, little, 15 year-old me trying to eat a burger and fries in front of my date? I did not appreciate. It took even longer in an effort to look half decent; all the while he did not say much, just sat there watching. All my attempts at offering him some of my food were declined.
When I finished, he proclaimed; “Well, that made me hungry!” and went to line up again. He ordered himself a Big Mac as well, came back, unwrapped a straw, jammed it in his burger, and tried to suck the burger through his straw. After failing miserably, he laughed awkwardly, then ate his meal while I had to watch him.
Needless to say, it was the most uncomfortable date I had ever been on (since it was my first) but I haven’t been able to top it since, either.
Later, I found out that he did it this way because his father employed him, and he charged the meals to the company credit card. If he ordered one meal, waited until I ate it, then ordered another, his dad might believe that he was just really hungry, and needed two lunches that day. If he had ordered them at the same time, he would have had to pay for the date…
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