If you are single and actively dating on a regular basis in Vancouver, chances are you have been on at least one bad date. When I initially decided to start writing about sex and relationships over two years ago, I was at a point where my collection of bad dates was so large that I felt the need to share. Where some might cry, I laugh and retell these date horror stories knowing they were relatable.
I recently introduced a new series to my readers titled “7 days of bad dates.” I’ve gone on some terrible dates in my time – I mean, some impressively terrible dates. These dates have made for some outstanding article content and one simple conclusion: dating in Vancouver is highly entertaining.
Every day for seven days I posted an article on some of my worst dates and this got me thinking: I can’t be the only one. How many other Vancouverites have been on a bad date? And would they perhaps want to share these comical tales of disappointment?
Vancity Buzz would like to offer you the opportunity to share some of your worst, most comical and most horrifying date stories. We know these dates occur around this city on a daily basis – every evening someone goes home thinking “well that was a terrible date!” and we want to hear all about it. Please send your bad date stories to [email protected], subject: “My bad date.”
Let’s kick it off with one of my many dates gone terribly wrong, shall we?
I believe I blocked this date from my memory for good reason.
Many of us have been advised to never date a coworker. The smart ones listen to this advice, others realise that as an adult it can be difficult to meet people elsewhere.
Years ago I was asked on a date by a coworker – let me rephrase that: a coworker asked another coworker if she could set us up and he would give her a spa gift certificate.
Had he offered me the spa gift card I may have been more inclined to say yes but his tactic did in fact work (she really wanted that gift card and I was single).
I didn’t know anything about this guy. He worked with me, yes, but not anywhere near me in the building. I knew his name, I knew his age and that was about it.
We went on an average, not terrible, not great, dinner date. Because he was respectful and seemed interesting I took him up on his second date offer without knowing he had done some creepy pre-planning.
On a Sunday afternoon he picked me up for lunch.
Little chance of any type of attack in the day, I thought with relief.
We had yet another average date with little chemistry so when he asked if I wanted to see his place, I hesitated.
He had recently moved into a new home which he had been renovating – he reeeally wanted to show me the finished renos and we worked together. . .he wasn’t going to do something stupid.
I entered the front door and was greeted by two large dogs – this prompted a full-blown two-dogs-one-girl attempted rape.
There I was on the floor as two huge dogs, both still equipped with balls, humped any part of me that they could grip with two paws. As I screamed in horror, I couldn’t tell you where this guy had gone. . .finally he came into the room and pulled those horny dogs off of me and laughed.
To me, this wasn’t exactly funny at the time – I had two dog erections on my body and I didn’t even want to be there.
This is when things took a turn for the extremely creepy. He grabbed my hand and asked me to follow him into the bedroom.
“But, I don’t want to go to your bedroom?”
His response was creepier than expected:
“It’s not what you think…”
What did he think I was thinking? And if it wasn’t him attempting to get into my pants well then what was hiding behind that bedroom door?
With slight resistance I was taken to the bedroom.
The throw on the bed was orange. The pillows on the bed – orange. Orange candles covered the side tables and dresser and the bedside lamps had some type of orange scarves placed over them for mood lighting.
“You said your favourite colour was orange. . .”
On the first date I told this guy my favourite colour was orange. On our second date he oranged up his bedroom. I will call this a major orange flag.
I asked him to drive me home. We never dated again. Work was awkward from that point on.
Please note that your bad date tales may be posted anonymously over the next month. We thank you for your contributions.
Image: Dragon Images / Shutterstock
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