2003-10-25 - 10:15 a.m.
Not Quite Dates But Still Really Bad
I've had a couple of people recently ask me if I've ever posted about a bad date here since I set up this diary. Most are curious because I've been happily married for many years now, yeah, I'm older than dirt baby, 43, just about ready to take a dirt nap. A hot date in this household consists of the hubby watching sports while I bake cookies followed by me pressuring him for wild sex.
Posted my most memorable bad date but nothing else because frankly my bad dates just aren't that interesting and they are ancient history, one tried to dope me stupid so he could screw me and I threw up on him and at my first, last and only debutante ball (before I stood up to my mother and said no more society madness) my date puked all over my designer ballgown from too much Everclear. See? A pithiful list? One potential serial killer, one Mr. I'm-Gonna-Get-Laid-Via-Roofies and one perfect pedigreed puker. I consider myself highly blessed.
I have had some really strange encounters during the last nearly 18 years of my marriage with guys that let me know they wanted to be my date, badly, clumsily and as appropriately handled as an orgy at a spastics convention. They would have been Dates From Hell, potential Dates From Hell. Two in particular stick out like a crackhead at a Shriners Convention. They fit because frequently my life resembles a square dance in hell being called by Fats Waller on meth while a band made up of the unmusical murders the tune and we dance on an oiled up slip-n-slide. The only buddy-pal of mine I can think of who's life seems to be a confloption on the grand scale of mine is SquirrelX's.
The first occurred on the fourth day of my honeymoon in the Bahamas, a long day of riding motorcycles all over Grand Bahama island, too much sun, too much rum, too much everything. Near sundown we stopped at a local market, a fish market with a tantilizing display of fresh fruits, piles of mangos, guavas, avacados, pineapples, bananas and the like. After that we saw the biggest pile of conch shells abandoned by the side of the road, we stopped to pick up a few only to meet a couple of local fishermen, a man and his son. My new hubby started talking to the father and the son gravitated to me and in the course of the conversation said, "Hey baby, why don't you ditch this guy you're with and meet me back here tonight. I'll show you a realllllllll good time.."
Now this guy was greasy, toothless and looked like he'd been in the sun too long, baked about the color of George Hamilton if he passed out in the tanning bed for about a week. Rum fumes and flies circled this Bahamian Prince Uncharming. I was so shocked it was all I could do to get away from him, muttering about being there on my honeymoon.
Potential Date From Hell happened recently, when I was visiting a close friend in the locked mental ward at UVA hospital. I noticed every day when I arrived this guy would stare at me. He was short, nondescript, harmless looking, sort of like Miranda's Steve on SatC looks wise. After a day he started following me, trailing me and my friend to the lounge, to the cafeteria, to the sundeck, peeping around the corners at me, following me to the locked double doors as I went to leave. The last day I was there he caught up with me at the exit doors and said, "Hey baby, why don't you ditch this guy you're with and meet me back here tonight. I'll show you a realllllllll good time.."
Seems some things just never change ROFLMAO!
hanging out with high school freshmen is not my idea of a romantic date. - 2004-02-13