Worst date ever - the thread you really wanted

When I was younger and made even more terrible decisions than I do now, one of the most terrible decisions I made was to try to get myself killed by walking on a motorway, having had a delightful first date with a very attractive lady.

We were both students - so automatically awful - but she at least had the decency to be a good person with a good choice in men. I met her through friends of friends at a flat party and, bombed on tequila and sherry, asked her (thinking she was someone else) if she wanted to go out for dinner. She said yes and there ended her good choice in men attribute. Interestingly, subsequent to that night I was told I had also asked out the person I'd meant to originally ask but she said no, and I agree with her choice. Good decision making skills. Important points to note: I studied at Edinburgh, she in Glasgow , and it was early December.

Anyway, Sharon (the girl who said yes) and I did meet for our first and only date, having an interesting meal in a nice restaurant in the west end of Glasgow. I'd taken the train through from Waverley and on the journey of course had fortified my resolve with some fortified wine. Also beer but only one scotch, maybe two. She meets me at the station and I'm reminded that I'm punching way above my weight here, like Elephant Man vs Audrey Hepburn out of my league. We have a laugh about how fun the party we'd met at was, sore heads etc, and go for a quick drink before the meal.

In hindsight, this was the torch paper to the fuse, the police intervention and the sleeping outside some cathedral on the south side of Glasgow.

So we go to the pub, it wasn't a bar as we're students and amusingly broke, and kick things off in the way that young, stupid people do and drink cheaply and heavily. The process is the same as pre-loading before going out clubbing and our yet-to-mature brains do not separate this activity from some nice, quiet, relaxing drinks before going out for a good meal. We get mashed by about 6.30pm, reservations for 7.30pm. Best get some more in then, we encourage each other! Great idea, we congratulate ourselves! Still a whole hour to go!

We get to the restaurant at 9pm, almost sobbingly drunk. We both have that fear that can only be produced by high volume intake of strong alcohol, mixed with a Primary School kids worry of being scolded because we're late and we told the grown-ups we'd be there at 7.30pm but we couldn't make it. Our reservation has gone, of course, but they seat us. I still don't know why, maybe because we've now gone 'quiet drunk' rather than bolshy and shouty. Regardless, we are seated and we have a good time and don't annoy anyone and don't get thrown out. We do keep ordering drinks though. We order them and they turn up worryingly fast, so we drink them and order more and ... rinse repeat.

We eventually finish the meal and the drinks and nice as she was and as awful as I was, it's clear that a fun night out isn't going to lead anywhere. We talk about cabs and she suggests we share one, dropping her off at her flat and then me going on to the train station but I say that I'll just walk down to the station. Fresh air, wake up a bit, all that stuff. I haven't, of course, checked the return train timetable because I am stupid but as it turns out, this doesn't matter, so take that planning!

Anyway, we part and I navigate my way down to Queen Street station. I wasn't born in Glasgow and didn't study there, nor have friends there, so you'd think I'd perhaps have taken a map or asked a local or done something other than get lost on the way to the station, which is the choice I decided to make.

It's quite late by now and it's dark but I've been walking for a while and I'll probably find the station soon. Lots of cars around tonight, too. I keep walking, aware of the occasional car horn but that can't be directed at me because I'm on my way to the train station to go home and why would they be honking at me anyway?

It's later now, I haven't yet made it to the train station, and the car horns have been ever-increasing in frequency but they're topped by a siren and some bright, flashing lights. The lights hurt my eyes but it's the instruction to 'DO NOT MOVE' either screamed or over a loud hailer that properly grabs my drunk attention.

I stop moving. It seems a good decision to make.

There's a pause which feels like a very long time but could have been 2 seconds or 15 minutes, I don't know, and I am grabbed, firmly but harshly, and bundled into a Police car. This is what had been producing the lights, I think. I'm asked for my name and it's then that I realise just how drunk I am because this is difficult to either remember, articulate coherently, or both. I'm asked what I've been up to this night, two nights before Christmas?

- Oh, out for dinner I tell them.

- Who with, they ask? Again, I struggle but do remember Sharon's name eventually.

- What are you doing walking on the motorway at 3 o'clock in the morning, they ask? I say nothing, confused.

- Is everything okay, they ask again. You're not ... depressed about anything? I have no idea what this means, I'm not depressed, I'm drunk!

- You're not trying to kill yourself, are you?

- No, I say or grunt, I'm not sure.

- Very high suicide rate around Christmas time. Are you sure everything is alright, they ask again. I nod, I think.

Once they're convinced that I'm just horrifically drunk and not trying to top myself, they take me back to Glasgow city centre. I don't know what duty of care for drunk people they have to show now or then but I assume they checked and it was me who made the stupid decision to say that here, a place I didn't recognise, was fine for me to be dropped off. They drop me off and, proving that approaching soberness can't fix stupid, I decide that now is a great time to finally get to the train station!

I don't find it and end up on the south side of Glasgow and there's a Cathedral and I'm tired so I lie down on the steps and I fall asleep.

_____________

So the take away from my cautionary tale is: if you're going to be late for dinner, at least have the decency to re-arrange! C'mon people, don't make my dinner reservation mistake. Make that call.

_____________

Note for people with little knowledge of Glasgow's roads and highways: It was the last city in the UK to have a motorway actually pass through the city centre. This in theory makes it easy for car users to get onto the motorway quickly but has the downside of allowing drunk idiots like me to mistake a national motorway for a residential street and proceed to walk along it for 4 miles.
 
When I was around 18/19 I met a girl in a gay club I neded up in after a night out and spent a few months meeting her in said club.

On one of our "dates" she finished with me and I got pretty worse for wear, and ended up sleeping on the floor in her gay mates bedroom, who had decided to bring home a male friend who slept in the next room.

I woke up really early on in the morning to a lot of groaning and moaning from the bed in the same room as me, which accumulated in one of them throwing up on my head at "that" moment - if you get me :-/

I left not long after and got a taxi home, still to this day I cant stomach the smell of mango!
 
RaohNS said:
She did. Was quite funny actually and not what I expected making a girl orgasm for the first time in my life, did not expect a body to go from calm to violent spasms then quivvering. Yea it was safe to say that the women in porn were all liars at that point.

The thing I said was "I love you" heat of the moment probably altered the whole "I love this"/"loved that" which is probably what it meant to be.

As for neck kissing the whole hour well my neck got gnawed in but now I'm a grown man I know where direction should have been given :D but still
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Outside your Nan's house?
 
Uncle Petey said:
Once there, I realise that her belly means I can't climb on top and kiss her without doing some kind of awkward crab maneuver and I'm so far from being turned on that I can't be arsed to divert to other regions, so I ended up climbing off and having a fag out of the window before making my excuses and catching the night bus.
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You sir made me snort my coffee out my nose reading that LMAO....ahhh it burns my nose though. :D:D:D:D:D
 
[FnG]magnolia;29577963 said:
When I was younger and made even more terrible decisions than I do now, one of the most terrible decisions I made was to try to get myself killed by walking on a motorway, having had a delightful first date with a very attractive lady.

We were both students - so automatically awful - but she at least had the decency to be a good person with a good choice in men. I met her through friends of friends at a flat party and, bombed on tequila and sherry, asked her (thinking she was someone else) if she wanted to go out for dinner. She said yes and there ended her good choice in men attribute. Interestingly, subsequent to that night I was told I had also asked out the person I'd meant to originally ask but she said no, and I agree with her choice. Good decision making skills. Important points to note: I studied at Edinburgh, she in Glasgow , and it was early December.

Anyway, Sharon (the girl who said yes) and I did meet for our first and only date, having an interesting meal in a nice restaurant in the west end of Glasgow. I'd taken the train through from Waverley and on the journey of course had fortified my resolve with some fortified wine. Also beer but only one scotch, maybe two. She meets me at the station and I'm reminded that I'm punching way above my weight here, like Elephant Man vs Audrey Hepburn out of my league. We have a laugh about how fun the party we'd met at was, sore heads etc, and go for a quick drink before the meal.

In hindsight, this was the torch paper to the fuse, the police intervention and the sleeping outside some cathedral on the south side of Glasgow.

So we go to the pub, it wasn't a bar as we're students and amusingly broke, and kick things off in the way that young, stupid people do and drink cheaply and heavily. The process is the same as pre-loading before going out clubbing and our yet-to-mature brains do not separate this activity from some nice, quiet, relaxing drinks before going out for a good meal. We get mashed by about 6.30pm, reservations for 7.30pm. Best get some more in then, we encourage each other! Great idea, we congratulate ourselves! Still a whole hour to go!

We get to the restaurant at 9pm, almost sobbingly drunk. We both have that fear that can only be produced by high volume intake of strong alcohol, mixed with a Primary School kids worry of being scolded because we're late and we told the grown-ups we'd be there at 7.30pm but we couldn't make it. Our reservation has gone, of course, but they seat us. I still don't know why, maybe because we've now gone 'quiet drunk' rather than bolshy and shouty. Regardless, we are seated and we have a good time and don't annoy anyone and don't get thrown out. We do keep ordering drinks though. We order them and they turn up worryingly fast, so we drink them and order more and ... rinse repeat.

We eventually finish the meal and the drinks and nice as she was and as awful as I was, it's clear that a fun night out isn't going to lead anywhere. We talk about cabs and she suggests we share one, dropping her off at her flat and then me going on to the train station but I say that I'll just walk down to the station. Fresh air, wake up a bit, all that stuff. I haven't, of course, checked the return train timetable because I am stupid but as it turns out, this doesn't matter, so take that planning!

Anyway, we part and I navigate my way down to Queen Street station. I wasn't born in Glasgow and didn't study there, nor have friends there, so you'd think I'd perhaps have taken a map or asked a local or done something other than get lost on the way to the station, which is the choice I decided to make.

It's quite late by now and it's dark but I've been walking for a while and I'll probably find the station soon. Lots of cars around tonight, too. I keep walking, aware of the occasional car horn but that can't be directed at me because I'm on my way to the train station to go home and why would they be honking at me anyway?

It's later now, I haven't yet made it to the train station, and the car horns have been ever-increasing in frequency but they're topped by a siren and some bright, flashing lights. The lights hurt my eyes but it's the instruction to 'DO NOT MOVE' either screamed or over a loud hailer that properly grabs my drunk attention.

I stop moving. It seems a good decision to make.

There's a pause which feels like a very long time but could have been 2 seconds or 15 minutes, I don't know, and I am grabbed, firmly but harshly, and bundled into a Police car. This is what had been producing the lights, I think. I'm asked for my name and it's then that I realise just how drunk I am because this is difficult to either remember, articulate coherently, or both. I'm asked what I've been up to this night, two nights before Christmas?

- Oh, out for dinner I tell them.

- Who with, they ask? Again, I struggle but do remember Sharon's name eventually.

- What are you doing walking on the motorway at 3 o'clock in the morning, they ask? I say nothing, confused.

- Is everything okay, they ask again. You're not ... depressed about anything? I have no idea what this means, I'm not depressed, I'm drunk!

- You're not trying to kill yourself, are you?

- No, I say or grunt, I'm not sure.

- Very high suicide rate around Christmas time. Are you sure everything is alright, they ask again. I nod, I think.

Once they're convinced that I'm just horrifically drunk and not trying to top myself, they take me back to Glasgow city centre. I don't know what duty of care for drunk people they have to show now or then but I assume they checked and it was me who made the stupid decision to say that here, a place I didn't recognise, was fine for me to be dropped off. They drop me off and, proving that approaching soberness can't fix stupid, I decide that now is a great time to finally get to the train station!

I don't find it and end up on the south side of Glasgow and there's a Cathedral and I'm tired so I lie down on the steps and I fall asleep.

_____________

So the take away from my cautionary tale is: if you're going to be late for dinner, at least have the decency to re-arrange! C'mon people, don't make my dinner reservation mistake. Make that call.

_____________

Note for people with little knowledge of Glasgow's roads and highways: It was the last city in the UK to have a motorway actually pass through the city centre. This in theory makes it easy for car users to get onto the motorway quickly but has the downside of allowing drunk idiots like me to mistake a national motorway for a residential street and proceed to walk along it for 4 miles.
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Haha! You're lucky!

I walked the 329m from Reading to Bracknell when very drunk one new years, rain absolutely pouring down, the police drove past and didn't bat an eyelid! ended up getting picked up by two dodgy blokes in a jag, first thing they said was "can you get us any cocaine?" regretted the decision to get in the car but kindly, they dropped me off at the nearest BP.
 
I have one that springs to mind.

Amongst our group of friends there was a girl that used to hang out with us (she was supposedly friends with one of my mates). I knew her name, I was civil, but that was about it. She wasnt unpleasant to look at, but she wasnt a head turner either. The only thing I can remember about her was that she had a really nice chest and a HUGE forehead.

I had ZERO interest in her really, she had other intentions about me.

She started to stalk me (a long story involving her trying to grope me, Legends of the Mystical Ninja on the SNES, paper mache and crosswords)

It concluded with me trying to calm her stalking nature down by agreeing to go to the local pub with her. Wrong move. My goal was to let her down, she thought I was on the come on. When I eventually told her at the end of the evening that I was not interested she had an epic meltdown, threw her drink on me and exited the pub. Cue....awkward response from other pub patrons.

3 days later I was at home and a parcel came. In it was a letter from her (she did not write normal letters, she used to verbalise it in the form of a cartoon strip.....seriously she used to draw the pictures with speech bubbles etc) there was also a large smarties tube (one of the ones that you get at xmas in stores).

The end of the cartoon strip was a picture of her shovelling dog **** into a tube and putting it in a jiffy bag. The 'smarties' tube went straight outside in the bin....never to be opened by me!
 
Two occassions spring to mind....

1. Magaaaa about 10 years ago, me and my mate were mid 20's...he likes the larger lady, me..hmmm.

Well im being a good wing man and it gets later on in the night...usual suspects on the dancefloor and i see my mate has eyed up two "larger than lifers" so im knocking back the drinks in anticipation.
He gets on to the task in hand, im not too happy but go along with it.
Next were up in their apartment, they have single pull out beds with the poorest springs...so thats a no go.
I can see my mate working his way towards the outside balcony...so im thinking sod this as im blatantly losing on the wing man front and i doubt the old pecker would be happy or responsive with the way my one looks (sounds harsh but fair at that age).
As always im hungry after many beers and so i came up with a great idea, id go get us all food...Well im jotting down what everyone wants...get to my lady and shes asked for a double quarter and cheese and chips....confirmation, i need to get out of here sharpish...

So they all think im lovely for going out to get us all food...my mates started getting on it on the balcony with this girls, hes peaked over the balcony at the road below and hes seen me sprinting along as fast as i can....
....i think i may have even looked up and laughed but i certainly didnt go back and i think i worried we would see the two of them out again the following night but we didnt thank god.

2. Id met a girl the week before in a club in Watford....got her number (how i dont know, i was bladdered)...she was pretty keen all week and i thought sod it id meet up with her but i couldnt remember what she looked like.
So i went to a pub for 1 with my mates beforehand for a bit of dutch courage, i left them after they said let us know how its going and what shes like etc.

Roll up at her house, not knowing who/what im picking up...i see a girl approaching my car that looks like the AOL girl from old (ginger/fringe)...is all i remember.

Small talk in the car with her 1 word answers (sure sign that its going to be a hard going date or shes a tad thick).
Well we get to the pub, i give her £10 to get some drinks, i go to the loo to text my mates...i remember the text to this day "Going ok, shes not really my cuppa tea, but she may grow on me" (the last part was just in case anything happened)....well you know when youre thinking of the person youre texting about...i only went and text her and not my mate.
Needless to say there is no way out of the loo's and pub without going straight down the stairs and past her...i look down the stairs, shes standing there with a pint and a wine...i thought this is it...its going over my head.

All she said was "i cant believe you just said that"...then "but you did say i may grow on you"....

Needless to say, it completely mucked the date up...1 word answers to most and a bit of an airhead...all she kept saying is if you want to take me home its ok and then second guessing everything and making me feel bad...so i ended up driving around places id grown up and going through my life story as i didnt know what to do as she had no conversation.

Worse part was, when i dropped her off, she wouldnt get out of the car, she kept saying "so when are we meeting up again"...your going to text me right, when are you going to text me"....blah blah blah....

Its comical now but it was horrible at the time...
 
Not a "date" exactly, at Uni id got chatting to a girl in a nightclub for most of the evening, after the club closed, outside I offered a piggy back to her, which she gladly excepted

It was all fun messing about until I accidentally tripped up on a kerb and dumped her over my head, face first into the road, breaking her arm and cutting her face on the tarmac.

She didn't blame me at all, but wasn't particularly chatty ever again for some unknown reason :p
 
Got chatting to a girl on Tinder when she messaged me at about 1:30am when I was out asking if I wanted to come to a house party and that I could bring a friend. I'd been to watch some local boxing so was looking on point in my suit so thought hell yeah. So recruited my mate Rich to come with me as he knew the area better than me and also I'd have backup in case things were sketchy.

So, we get to the street and she comes out of the house and she's pretty fit and we're getting on well straight away. We go into the house party and there are literally about 2 couples and about 14 gay men there. Now I was okay as I was chatting to my 'date'. But Rich, who is a good looking lad, was like fresh meat. The look on his face was hilarious. I was making drinks in the kitchen and was making his especially strong. I think he downed them, said something about needing to make a phonecall and then ran away to his mates house haha. I ended up getting taken back to the ladies where in the morning we got woken up by her BROTHER who had been staying over. That was a little awkward but he wasn't too phased.
 
good thread :cool:

I have a few decent stories but lack the time now to relive them, maybe I'll write them up on the train and cut & paste them :)
 
Jamesyboyjim said:
Haha! You're lucky!

I walked the 329m from Reading to Bracknell when very drunk one new years, rain absolutely pouring down, the police drove past and didn't bat an eyelid! ended up getting picked up by two dodgy blokes in a jag, first thing they said was "can you get us any cocaine?" regretted the decision to get in the car but kindly, they dropped me off at the nearest BP.
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I did the M4 from 11 to 12, stopping off at the services at about 5am to buy a bacon butty.
What I did not realise though was that I had, had my arm down the side of the armco (for support), dragging along for the whole way, and ended up absolutely covered in black dust/crud. It was all down my side, arm, and hand.
Of course, in my drunken state I had rubbed this all over my face.
I did wonder why I was getting such funny looks as i was walking up to the canteen.
I think I was 16 or so at the time!

My worst date ever was with a girl I had known for many years, through a mutual sporting activity.
I got very drunk in the local walkabout, and did a LOT of dancing. She was a dance teacher, and told me I was a great dancer, and actually asked me to come to her dance class and do a demo..I am not a trained dancer in any way shape or form, and this point should have made me realised quite how drunk she must have been. However, drunk me took this as quite a compliment, and I took to more arm flailing and fast feet in the knowledge I was clearly the greatest un-touched natural dance talent on the planet.

Later on we were heading home, not actually sure where we were going, perhaps to hers? But she attempted an impassioned snog, and proceeded to place her mouth over mine, starting at the tip of my nose, and ending just below my chin. She then decided that this unusual approach was clearly not enough, the tongue entered the fray and painted my entire lower face with saliva. I think I reciprocated as best I could (she was a dancer, and pretty fit) in the hope things might get better.

However, a few tooth clashes and minutes later (there was actual dribble hanging from my chin) I pulled away, said something unintelligible, and ran full speed (very drunk remember) wiping the torrent of face fluid into my already soaked t-shirt.

We never spoke of it again, and my dance career ended :(
 
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