By Truedat on 11 May 2007.
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This was a lame and humiliating high school date. I got ditched at the dance by my date, left to hang out with the losers on the walls of the dancefloor, and afterwards, back at her house, she got drunk, made out with me, and then, in a Korean rage, after I kissed-and-told, she had some skin heads blow up my mailbox. The topper was she denied the whole thing. And she had huge cans that I should have touched while I was making out with her but I pussed out.
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I stayed up all night trying to finish some crap at work, worked all day, drove to Daly City to pick up my date, in traffic right after work, and then I spent $200 on expensive fondue in Saratoga, drove my ass back to Daly City, of course, did not get laid, she talked about her ex a lot, and then drove my ass back home, swerving and blacking out from exhaustion in the Daly City fog, half asleep. This was a classic dot.com era date where you spend a lot of money for no apparent reason or outcome. She wasn't even hot.
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Still sleeping with my ex-fiancee, stupidly, brought her to the Mt. View Beer Festival, and she goes off and starts making out with some stranger, a friend of a friend of a friend, and then comes back looking like she went through a tornado, and then we go home and I nail it, and then kick her out in the morning. And after three years of dating, it was the first, and last time I actually gave her an O from f'ing. Byatch.
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Following #3, I run into the friend of a friend at the Irish pub thing in Palo Alto, Rose & Crown, I think. Anyway, this guy is laughing about how his friend hooked up with this hot asian chick at the Mt. View Art and Wine festival and then was freaking out because her ex-fiancee was there. And I was there with this girl I wasn't sure if I was dating or what the deal was. Anyway, I f'ing lost it after this guy took off, I was piss drunk, bawling my head off about the humiliation of having #3 happen, and then have the story retold to me as if it had happened to someone else. I then proceed to drive home wasted, going the wrong way to get home on 101, and when I finally emerge from the haze, I see a sign for Los Angeles. After turning myself around, I find myself cruizing 110 mph with a death wish after my miserable evening reliving my miserable ass ex-finacee's crap she pulled on me.
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Any date that ended with me sleeping next to some chick with my clothes on. The day after #4, I had high hopes for this kind of hot but porky beer guzzling half white/asian chick I met on match.com. I was invited to stay over at this chick's house because we were going to run a race together the next morning. Romantic, right? We go out that night, drink a lot of beer, and she tells me about her dildo and what she needs to please herself. Only problem is she let me sleep on the couch after blue-balling me with this kind of conversation. We get up in the morning and run this race. For this, I owe her something, since she got me back into running (this is a testament to the power of p, it will make you do crazy things). After the race, she invited me back to hang out all afternoon, which I should have just bailed on, because the sexual tension could be cut with a knife since her roomates were gone, and we sat there watching videos on MTV, only to finally have the clock hit like 6pm, and I started to feel like an ass, so I left, with plans to maybe meet up later in the evening, only when I called she didn't want to do anything. Oh, the humanity.
Enter your own Five Worst dates, or something else.