I have been on some pretty awful dates in my time. There was my first date at 17, where I was driving so bad that the girl asked me to pull over and let her drive my mother’s car to her destination of choice – a Chinese buffet (where she threw all the way down). Afterwards, I didn’t bother making any kind of play for her.
Can you guess why?
I might have finally gotten the gender right, but I still can’t pick a reliant member of the Y chromosome to save my life.
Which leads me to the second date I ever had with a man. What was starting off to be a decent date went sour once he looked at me with befuddlement when I explained to him that I had no interest in women.
Him: “So wait, you don’t like women at all?”
Me: “No. I’m gay.”
To this day, I’m not sure why such a statement baffles the gay men I meet but I hell I’ve come across stranger things – like red velvet fried chicken.
There was this one date where I ended up being eaten alive by fire ants and becoming BFFs to Palmer’s to heal the scars.
I can’t forget to mention the last date I had in which it turned out to be a non-date that ended in me wanting to beat the shit out of the guy for wasting my time. This person previously asked about sexual positions and my belief in God all in the span of ten minutes. He then later claimed I was the one who came on too strong.
Why I even bothered with this person is a mystery only a future therapist may answer.
But yet like the saying goes there’s always someone worse off than you.
Enter my best friend of a decade, Kim, who over the weekend told me about a date so bad that I felt compelled to apologize on behalf of men everywhere.
Gentleman, if you ask a woman out for lunch, could you please have the money to pay for the meal?
Kim alerted me about her lunch date minutes before it started.
She said he was good-looking, younger, but broke.
Kim was never sure how broke, but she did notice he would always suggest the two go for a walk. In theory it sounds a bit traditional and romantic. However, in Houston, a walk in the park is like taking a tour ride through hell.
Yesterday Houston had a heat index of 115 degrees. On Saturday night it was still 95 degrees at 8:00 p.m. Would you want to walk in that?
No, so a cheap lunch sounded more appealing.
I told her that so long as she didn’t marry him moments after the date ended, it was alright to go out with him. You know, for the hell of it.
Yeah, I will never tell her that again. In fact, when you don’t want to go somewhere with a person, quote me on saying it’s better to not even bother. Otherwise, you might end up putting in on a meal you didn’t even want.
This man, ya’ll, ended up asking my friend to chip in on the food because he didn’t have enough cash on him.
Mind you, she did the man a solid by picking Chili’s for lunch. It’s not a place she would normally pick for a date (maybe not at all anymore, I heard they lost their touch), but she knew dude was light in the wallet so she was being courteous.
She was punished for it.
Kim tells me after the bill was laid on the table, the guy looked down, confused, and grabbed his iPhone to do the math.
“Yeah, I think Imma need you,” he told Kim.
Kim says she shot him a crazy look like, “Negro (with an igga), I ain’t paying for this shit.”
So he responded to her non-verbal communication verbally with, “Wait a minute, I gotta see if I can transfer.”
He looked around, pulled out an ACE card, and laid it on the table.
She asked, “What is that? A Rush Card?”
Close, it’s a card issued by the check-cashing place to people without bank accounts.
Now, the man has two phones – an iPhone being one of them (Yes, I know Walmart sales them now, but still) – but no bank account?
If that’s not a nutty Negro failure, I don’t know what is.
The bill total was $33.12.
She asked, “How much do you need?”
He needed $14.46.
She had $14 on her.
He put the 66 cents on his credit card.
This is the type of mess that leads to shows like Basketball Wives.
So what did they order?
She had a Triple play, which is an appetizer, and a drink. He had a chicken sandwich and a drink. He could only afford his chicken sandwich and maybe two sips of drink.
Broke people, order water with lemon.
Or better yet don’t order shit and all.
I think he knows this, because he told my friend that next time he’ll just eat before he takes her out.
Bless his heart, they’re not going out again.
I don’t want to judge anyone struggling given you never know what ambition and fate can do to a person in their respective future. At the same time, though, if you can’t even afford a meal at a restaurant two bar stools ahead of a clean fast food chain, why are you asking people out on dates?
Do you have a horrible date story? If so, gon’ and share.