Worst Dates: Greatest Hits

During my freshman year of college, I found myself dealing with my very first broken heart. My longest relationship of a year and half had crumbled under my feet. Although I wish I could say I pulled myself up by the bootstraps and stayed calm and collected, that’s just not what happened. Instead, I listened to a lot of angsty Indie music, got bad highlights, and went to too many parties. While reluctantly walking down the road to recovery and trying to forget about my lame ex-boyfriend, I also made some major dating mistakes.

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Taco Teeth

Boys on motorcycles have always held a special place in my heart. I was set-up with a co-worker’s friend and could not have been more stoked when he picked me up on his bike. We spent our first date at a taco shop, where I’m pretty sure I paid for our romantic dinner of burritos and horchata (even if the conversation wasn’t interesting, it was delicious). I swiped my credit card for our 10 dollar meal and we left to take in a sunset beach walk. But then something horrible happened. As we headed west to sandy shorelines, I noticed my companion was taking a while to respond. To my horror, I looked up to find my dinner date with a dollar in his mouth. A crusty, who-knows-where-it’s-been, dollar. When I asked young Taco Teeth why he had currency in his molars, his response was- “Oh, I had some food in there, just trying to get it out!” This new aged dentistry was enough to have my skin, and teeth, crawling for weeks thereafter. 

Strange Snuggler

We met at a party and exchanged numbers. He was a study abroad student. His style was effortless and his accent was refreshing. Plus, he was studying to become a dentist and I knew my mom would love that. We went out for coffee and then decided to see “Inception”. Lattes and chitchat had been charming if not downright enjoyable. In the dark of the theatre, I could feel him staring at me but chose instead to keep staring at Leonardo DiCaprio to take my mind off my first date jitters. That’s when it happened. Over the course of several minutes, he inched his way closer and closer to me until he was practically sitting in my lap. I’m not a small girl by any means, but also can’t comfortably support the weight of a full-grown man. Then, he started rubbing his nose on my cheek. Like butterfly kissing my face and rubbing his nose all over me from side to side. It was so weird. I think he was trying to get me to make out with him? I still honestly don’t know. After a few minutes of me awkwardly scooting away, I whispered, “I have a headache. I feel like, really gross. Can you drive me home?” I wouldn’t get to watch Inception in its entirety for a few more years. Sorry, Leo.

Beast Bear

In what was maybe the worst dating decision I’ve ever made, I gave my number to a guy who was shopping at Ross. To be honest, I don’t know what I was doing shopping at Ross. No matter the purpose of the visit, I found myself speaking up to a handsome, muscular, albeit hairy- 6’5″ man. He was so tall, like damn. Think like an attractive, giant version, of a Jersey Shore douche. He was hot but not the sharpest tool in the shed. For whatever reason, I ended up hanging out with him and we made out. Our chemistry was lacking so in days to come when he texted me to hang out again, I quickly made up an excuse. Although I should have been honest, I told him I had to babysit my younger brother. When he asked me out a second time, I concocted a different excuse. This apparently enraged him, causing this gigantic man to leave me threatening voicemails and text messages for several weeks, if not months. He even came into the restaurant I worked at and asked to be seated in my section, with his mom. My manager asked him to leave, because he was a nice dude. Later, I would discover the giant’s Myspace (this was back in the Dark Ages) and find that his username was aptly: Beast Bear.

Serial Saint

Religion is a make or break point in many relationships whether they’re romantic or otherwise. I would describe myself as a spiritual person but not someone who subscribes to any specific denomination. In early 2010, I found myself dating a super Christian guy. I found his commitment to faith endearing even if I didn’t follow the same moral guidelines. He was kind, funny, and a good dancer to boot. A month or two into us dating we were out at dinner and he looked at me with his wide blue eyes, “Can I tell you something I’ve never told anyone?” As an egomaniac, I assumed he was about to confess his undying love for me and to hear that I rocked his world in the sack, the reality was much more unsettling. “Sure”, I replied between sips of Diet Coke. “OK, well, I’ve just…I’ve always wanted to know if I could murder someone and get away with it. Like, am I smart enough to hide a body from investigators?” Baby Jesus in all his infant glory could not carry my feet out of that restaurant fast enough. I wonder if he ever did it- and if he did, would we ever know?!

Although I’m glad to have some dating experience under my belt, I feel that if put in the same position now, I would work on loving myself instead of finding weird dudes to hang out with. Once I stopped looking for Mr. Right, he came waltzing into my life and we’ve been together for three wonderful years. And although I’d like to say there’s someone out there for everyone- I have the sinking feeling that there may never be a Mrs. Beast Bear.