The following story is based on actual events.
Pre horror night:
It’s Halloween night, 2011. Christine and Karen have just entered The Roxy, dressed as Wonder Woman and a sexy pirate.
Four Jagerbombs and two Coronas later, the two commence the dancing to the white girl anthem “Don’t Stop Believing”.
Karen: I’m drunk.
Christine: Me too.
Enter Smith who, dressed as a boxer, shimmied over to Christine and Karen. After a dozen flirty moments, the rather forward boxer felt it was the perfect opportunity to plant a kiss on Wonder Woman.
The first red flag should’ve been that his breath smelled like long island iced tea, even though he was sipping on beer the entire night.
The kiss wasn’t horrendous and he was very sarcastic and charming, which made him seem like a potential suitor – besides, good kissers can be molded. They exchanged numbers and parted ways for the night.
A week went by and it was time for Handsome Smith and Christine to go on their first date. He promised a night of amazement: Laughs, beer, and overall great times – all paid for by the charming boxer. Sounds like a keeper.
They met on the corner of Granville and Georgia, and walked down to The Lamplighter. Now, for those who don’t know, The Lamplighter charges a cover fee of about $12, which Christine ended up paying for because Smith needed to take out cash at the ATM. Fair enough, he didn’t know the cover charge was cash only.
After two pitchers of beer and seemingly great conversation, Christine realized that she hadn’t eaten anything that day. She asked the bartender for a menu, and expressed how hungry she was to Smith, who gave her a look of disgust. From that point on, the night took a turn for the worse.
Smith: I don’t think you should eat.
Christine: Uhh… why not, I’m starving.
Smith: [staring into her soul]
If you eat, it’ll soak up the alcohol and I won’t be able to take advantage of you later.
Christine: [leans back and raises eyebrow in confusion]
Smith: [completely monotone]
What’s so funny?
He couldn’t be serious right? He must be joking.
Christine started thinking of ways to justify what she just heard. Maybe he has an eating disorder and the idea of someone eating around him makes him want to fall back into his binge and purge days.
Maybe he’s lactose intolerant, and doesn’t trust himself with the temptation of the delicious cheese curds on the poutine.
Maybe, he has a weird form of turrets where, instead of having vocal tics that sound like swear words, he coherently states awful borderline rape comments.
Turns out, he wasn’t joking. Smith proceeded to tell her his plans of seducing and sleeping with her in his sofa bed that night, which was in the living room of his friend’s one bedroom basement suite.
Aaaand it was time to ask for the bill.
Fun fact, Smith actually “forgot his wallet,” so by 10 p.m. Christine was now $70 short, light headed from hunger, and hanging out with Canada’s most wanted douche.
They started walking towards Granville so Christine could get into a cab and escape the newly crowned Creepy Smith, when she spotted a pizza shop. Without saying a word, she walked in, ordered two slices of pepperoni and started eating her first meal of the day.
Smith: [Looking annoyed]
You better have mints, because there’s no way your pizza mouth is going anywhere near my junk.
Christine: [with food still in her mouth]
Go home Smith.
Smith: Playing hard to get…I like that.
No. No, no, no.
Once she finished her pizza, she walked out of the shop and was headed straight towards the cabs, with Smith trailing behind her. Christine flagged one down, looked over at him, gave him the finger, and opened the door.
Since Smith has no understanding of social conduct, he tried to give her a goodnight kiss, but Christine blocked it with the palm of her hand and pushed his face away. He moaned as if that turned him on, and tried it again. Three tries and a molested palm later, Christine finally realized that was the night she was going to be murdered.
The cab driver threatened to leave if she wouldn’t get into the cab at that moment, so that was her cue to ditch the dud.
Smith: [disappointed, yet hopeful]
You know, I was planning on sleeping with you tonight, but that’s okay, we’ll save it for date two.
Christine: [eyes bulged out of her head]
Smith, you are crazy. You need to be hospitalized, imprisoned, or shot. You are an a——, an idiot, a creep and a borderline rapist. I will be looking for you on the news when any of the above happens.
You’re so witty.
Post horror night:
Two weeks and 38 unanswered text messages later, Smith finally got the hint that maybe he wasn’t going to see Christine again. He messaged her the exact same message every single day, multiple times a day, because he assumed there was something wrong with her phone, which is why she wasn’t getting back to him.
The text read: “Hey, had such a great time! Can’t wait for round two ;)”
The alternate text read: “Hey, I don’t know if there’s something wrong with your phone, but I just wanted to say that our date was so much fun and I can’t wait for round two!”
Imagine receiving 38 of those over the course of two weeks. Also, based on the above, what would a bad date look like to him?
In the moment, it seemed like such a nightmare of a first date, but hey, at the end of the day, it’s still a funny story to tell the kids.
If you or anyone you know has suffered and would like to share a dating horror story, please call 911. Just kidding, send me a message on Twitter – @ChristinaZoubos.
Image: Doglikehorse / Shutterstock