
Here are the best of the worst bad date stories men were sharing on Reddit. Enjoy!
— I took a girl out to a fancy dinner at a well known steakhouse that’s about an hour away from where we lived.
The dinner itself was great. She commented her steak was fantastic and that she wasn’t used to eating such high-quality, juicy steak.
As we were waiting to exit the parking garage, she held her stomach and started freaking out, saying she needed to use the bathroom. I told her to run up the stairs, because we were stuck in the middle of a long line waiting to leave the garage.
She screamed at me to drive onto an empty floor (it was closing time so all the cars had left towards the exit already)
Once there, she started barking at me to get out of the car. I was at a loss for words and didn’t know what was going on, so I obliged.
She shat herself on my passenger seat.
Lemme repeat, she shat herself. On my passenger seat.
I was shocked, but also empathetic? Obviously if she could’ve held it in she would have.
Luckily I had a blanket in my trunk, so she took off her dress she shit in, put it in her purse and wrapped herself in my blanket.
The hour drive home was the longest hour of my life.
We cracked our windows, trying to breathe through our mouths in an effort to not smell her feces.
I had her drop me off at home, so she can clean her mess at her place, and then come drop my car off the following day.
She cleaned what she could, and then took it to a place somewhere to have it professionally.
I feel so bad whenever someone sits in that seat lol
— Went out on a first date with a waitress at a restaurant I frequent regularly. We went to a bar she goes to often because she said it had a nice atmosphere and we could get free drinks. TERRIBLE IDEA. We were barely talking 5 minutes before the free drinks started rolling in. She got so many that she got sh*tfaced drunk, got into a fight, I had to pull her out of the bar, and after walking away from the bar for about a minute she legit goes “I need to use the bathroooooom” and pulls her dress up and PEES IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET. I was so pissed, but knew I couldn’t leave her alone that inebriated. I take her home, let her sleep on my bed while I slept on the couch and she puked in a bucket for literally the entire night. It was fucking half full by the time I checked up on her in the morning. She gets back home and texts me “I had a really great time and appreciate you taking care of me, let’s hang out again soon.” WHAT IN THE ACTUAL F*CK?
— She brought her friends and expected me to pay for everyone. Her friends were cool but the date ended up being a girls night out on me. Yeah no thanks.
Edit thanks for all the votes.
To clarify I did not pay for anything.
My meal and drinks came to 30 of the 300odd bill.
I tipped the waiter 30 and toilet dashed.
Trending: He Watched 9 Guys Run a Train On Her & Then Later Married Her
— She stole my cell phone and wallet from the table after dinner.
— I once went dancing with a date and she went home with someone she met at the club
— Guy bootycalled her “l’m at your door, are you home?” She just stood up and left
— Met a girl online, we decided to meet up, when she saw me she said yeah this isn’t what I’m looking for and just walked away
— Called one of my best friends — who was our waiter — a n-word for not bringing her a third cup of ranch.
For the past 6 years, the name of our fantasy football league has been Th3 Dude Ranch.
— My college crush asked me out on a date and I was so happy. Show up to the restaurant, she arrives, we get a table and start chatting. About 10 minutes in, another dude shows up and sits down with us. I’m super confused, but she introduces him as a friend and I mean.. what am I suppose to do? A few minutes later this dude goes to the bathroom, and while he’s gone she leans in close to me. Tells me this is the guy she really wants to date, but she’s not sure if hes right for her. She wants me to evaluate him because she really values my opinion and wouldn’t date a guy I didn’t approve of.
She didn’t exactly make a booty call in front of me, but she asked me on a date to get my approval for the guy she really wanted. Some things stick with you forever.
— We matched on Tinder on a Thursday night. We clicked immediately and agreed to meet but both had plans the Friday and Saturday, so we agreed to meet on Monday night after work.
The entire time in between we were talking constantly, both super into each other. She was telling me how nervous she was because she was so interested in me that she wasnt ashamed to be that forward. I’m a guy so of course I’m into that
Monday rolls around and were a couple hours away from the date, still texting, but now shes super nervous and not sure what to wear. I said “wesr whatever makes you comfortable. I’m just going casual” and sent her a picture of me in what I was wearing (just a band t shirt and chinos, very casual and comfortable). This served two purposes, I’m a little chubby and she was so clearly into me I had convinced myself she wasnt aware of he chub, so I wanted her to know what she should expect in an hour or so. She approves, can’t wait to meet me etc, and gets on the road so silence for a bit.
I go to where we’re meeting and tell her where I’m at. I see her pull in and she texts asking where I am because she can’t see me. So I get out the car and walk towards hers because I can already see her. I text back saying I’m near the bus shelter.
I see her get out of her car, she looks toward the bus shelter and sees me. Even in the dark of the evening I see her recoil at the sight of me. I can see her debate internally in a matter of seconds whether or not to just jump back into her car or give me a chance.
I say hi, already knowing this is going to be terrible. We walk to the bowling alley where we’ve planned to go and I give her a mini tour of the town we’re in because she hasnt been there before and I’m just getting nothing in response.
We get to the bowling alley and I offer her a drink and she turns me down, ok fair enough, so I’m sipping my beer trying to get conversation out of her and getting nothing back.
We go to bowl our game and I make jokes and be silly just trying to get her to laugh or something but she spends almost all her time texting and giving me blunt responses. She wins at bowling (I suck that’s just how it is) and I ask if she wants to hang out for bit more or head home. She says she wants to stay for a little while longer so we sit at the bar and we barely speak because I’m getting nothing out of her.
Eventually I just call it and say I have to be up early for work so I walk her to her car. She opens her door, turns around and holds an arm out and says “I’m not going to hug you. I’m not being rude I just have a thing for physical contact on the first date” I say ok even though I didnt even go in for a hug or a kiss. I say “drive safe” and send her on her way. I go home and about an hour later I get a text saying “Just got home. Thanks for a lovely evening” and never heard from her again, was ghosted after that.
Boy was that a shot to the confidence. Super interested until she saw me in person then it was a total 180.
EDIT: I was at that point in time 85kg at 5’10 after losing a bunch of weight so all my pictures were recent to reflect that. I didn’t catfish her.
— On three separate occasions, with three different women, in different states. At the end of the second date, these young ladies apparently had a change of heart on their sexuality and came out to me as being a lesbian.
It is for that reason, some of my friends refer to me as ‘teamchanger’
— So I meet this girl i’d been chatting to on Tinder for a midweek, post-work drink. everything is going swimmingly; she’s funny, smart, super hot and into me. It starts getting late and she invites me back to hers. Awesome. I accept, we book an Uber, and off we trot.
She lives miles away. it’s a full 45 minute journey in the cab into the arse-end of nowhere in a random part of the city, to the house she shares with a friend of hers. Not a problem, there are plenty of options for me to get to work the next day, so we just make out a lot in the cab to pass the time.
Get back to hers around 1am, creeping past her housemates room to get to hers, where sex happens. Result. I’m feeling pretty good about what I thought was pretty fucking good sex, until she reaches for her phone midway through. Confusing, especially since she didn’t exactly wait for a lull in the action. I am literally inside her as this happens.
She dials a number and puts it to her ear. “Who are you calling?” I ask, unsure whether to withdraw. I do not withdraw.
“I’m just calling my boyfriend” she says.
Hmm, I think, unsure how exactly I should feel about this. I raise a number of pertinent points with her in response, including but not limited to: “You have a boyfriend? you didn’t tell me that” and “why the merry fuck are you calling him at 2am on a Tuesday night while you are literally having sex with a guy you met on Tinder?!”
I do not withdraw.
Putting her finger to my lips she says, matter-of-factly “ssshhhhh, it’s ringing”. I go quiet, while still, doggedly, not withdrawing.
The conversation between her and her boyfriend is hard to recount here but the gist of it is that she tells him, very directly, exactly what is going on, and then invites him over for a threesome.
Now with a bit of warning, I would probably have given a twos-up some serious consideration. But not at 2am on a Tuesday with someone I just met and another participant who I’ve never actually met.
I withdraw.
Before I can say “thanks so very much for the offer, but I fear I must politely decline”, her boyfriend responds.
He. Is. Furious.
Furious that she’s having sex with another man. Furious that she felt the need to call him mid-way through. Furious that she would invite him over to join in. Generally, and quite rightly, not at all happy with the situation.
They proceed to have a blazing row, while I kind of hang out there feeling a little bit stupid and trying to figure out how the fuck I’m going to get home from this place very, very far away from where I live in the middle of the night.
She hangs up.
” I have to go and fix my relationship with my Boyfriend. he lives around the corner. I’ll be 30 minutes max, just hang out here.”
Sure. OK. Why the f*ck I decided to stay and not just run away is beyond me, but the bed was comfortable and the thought of a midnight mission to the other side of town did not fill me with good feelings.
She leaves, I wait up for about 10 minutes before I fall asleep.
I awake to my alarm. She hasn’t come back, and I’m alone, exactly where she left me. Probably for the best.
I make a quick dash for the bathroom for a shower before I head to the office. passive-aggressively used her good shampoo and the nicest towel I can find. I am wrapped in said towel as I leave the bathroom to get changed to go to work.
This is when I meet the house mate.
“Erm, Who are you?” she says. Accusingly. She is small but clearly very angry about a strange man in her shared bathroom.
“I’m thisisnotariot, I was here with your housemate last night”, I say, very conscious that I am in a towel in her hallway.
“You’re not her boyfriend.” She says.
“OH I know, trust me.” I say. I’m in a towel. In the hallway.
“where is she? This is totally unacceptable” She says.
“Ha well… She’s not here. Long story.” I say. Still in the towel in the hallway.
“I don’t believe you. Have you broken into my house?!”
The conversations breaks down there as she starts screaming. She runs around the house to make sure things haven’t been stolen and finds my clothes in her housemates room. She picks them up and flings them out of the front door, screaming that she’s going to call the police. She yanks the towel off me in the process.
I get dressed on the street in the middle of a fucking London winter as two Hasidic mothers taking their children to school walk past. Perfect. Call a cab, go to the office, swearing never ever to use Tinder ever again and that I should never ever go back to this part of town in case the police arrest me and put me on one of a number of potential lists.
A week later I hear from the Tinder date. A single SMS, reading “I have your sock.” That’s it.
Good luck and godspeed to you, Crazy Tinder Girl.
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