Takes Three To Tango, Especially During Steelers’ Games

Ok, I’ll admit, this next story is my fault. In fact, it’s so much my fault that I wouldn’t be suprised if I was the premise of this man’s own DisasterDate tale. It began like so many other nights in Pittsburgh, PA – with a Steelers game. I had agreed weeks ago to meet this guy for a few drinks and to watch the game at a neighborhood pub. However, as the date drew near, I lost interest. I didn’t want to go; I didn’t want to make fake conversation; I didn’t want to try and remember to piece together the snipets of his life that he had told me in previous conversations, and more than anything I just wanted to watch the game. So why not just cancel like a normal person and save you and your date the dissappointment of a failed date? Well, to be honest, I don’t know. I think the correct phrase is “chicken-shit.”

So I did what any normal chicken-shit would do, I duped my roommate into coming with me. That’s right, I brought my roommate on my date. But to make matters worse, I didn’t even tell her we were meeting anyone. She thought we were just going out to watch the game. Imagine her suprise when Mr. “I’m-not-so-interested-anymore” showed up. I’m dispicable.

But, to my delight, my plan worked. My roommate acted as the perfect buffer, helping to feed questions and spark uninteresting, pass-the-time conversation while I got to take in more of the game. So, thanks to my selfish behavior, it was a DisasterDate for me and my poor roommate. Thanks roomie!

Seattle Shut-out

This disaster date comes compliments of a friend who recently used his oh-so-precious frequent flyer miles to fly across the country in hopes of sparking a Seattle romance. Previous acquaintances, the two had since rekindled, on where else but Facebook, and had spent months Facebooking, e-mailing, instant messaging, calling etc. Tickets were booked to each’s respective city and alas, my friend departed with romantic hopes in his heart.

Once in Seattle, a few romantic moments are shared. Sips of coffee, lots of laughter- before my friend’s Seattle romance drops the “I don’t have romantic feelings for you” bomb. “Don’t you think it would have been useful information to let me know before I flew across the country?” “I wasn’t sure” was the reply.

Needless to say, a romance that soars online may slump in the real world. And there’s also something to be said for appropriate timing. If only he had the frequent flyer miles back.

The Sports Nut

I love sports, arguably more than most women. I used to work as a sports reporter for a local newspaper, played a sport throughout college etc etc. Yet despite my love for the competitive, I recognize the stark difference between being a sport participant and a sports spectator. A fact, which my date, had difficulty understanding.

Let me set the scene. The Pittsburgh Penguins have just won the Stanley Cup. The city of Pittsburgh is in a state of euphoria. Strangers high-fiving on the streets, couples making-out, bellows of “Let’s Go Pens” from intoxicated, pot-bellied men in Pens jerseys. However, despite  this display of community love, I seem to have found myself on a date which the only yinzer not wishing to participate in the joyous festivities.

Rathering than hugging his neighbor, my date finds the only Red Wings fan in the entire city, puts him in a sleeper hold and demands he rip up his Red Wings jersey. Now not moments ago, I had thought this was a relatively normal man, obviously a sports nut, but someone who seemed to have things under control. Now within mere seconds, he’s transformed into a wanna-be Steve Austin in black-and-gold.

When I casually mention that putting complete strangers in sleeper-holds because of their sports allegiances may be a little uncouth, I receive a reply of “He’s in my city.” I then was promptyl knocked to the ground and stepped on as the Red Wings fan finally broke out of the hold.

So knocked down, stepped on and unaware of my presence in “his” city- I leave my date to his rightful obligation: to protect Pittsburgh from all Red Wings fans.

Dating Across Political Lines

Is dating across political lines even possible? I’ve heard whispers that it is, but my own personal experience speaks to the contrary. And just as a disclaimer, this blog posting is for all of you republicans, democrats, independents, socialists and free-market capitalists. No particular political affiliations required.

The date began like any other: at a bar. Things seemed to be going smoothly until my date popped the big question: “So what are your political affiliations?” Having traveled down this road before, I immediately tried all dine-and-dash techniques: “I’m not really political (somewhat false)”; “Are you sure you really want to talk politics on a first date? (true)” etc. But his persistance waged on. He began his die-hard republican schpiel (I love this word if you haven’t noticed) on how we should put a fence around the country to keep immigrants out; his thoughts on Obama’s religious affiliations; how George W. is the nation’s great savior etc. Luckily, through the grace of God (can I mention God in a political posting?), I manage to nod my head, bite my tongue and hold down the throw-up that kept popping up in my mouth.

Being the Republican gentleman that he is, my date offered to walk me to my car at the end of the night. We made it about half way  before he stops in his tracks and begins glaring at the bumper of my Toyota Yaris where a prominently displayed Obama bumper sticker rests proudly. “You’re a Democrat!” “You’re voting for Obama?” “Never call me again!”

So, I took his advice and never called again, what a shame. I was really hoping to discuss the Cuban Missile Crisis on date two.

 

Minnow Shirt

My friends and I affectionately refer to him as Minnow Shirt. In fact, when I pitched the idea of this blog to my roommate, her first response was, “You can write about Minnow Shirt!” So, without hesitation, Minnow Shirt has been bequeathed the honor of my first DisasterDate tale. What you are about to read is, unfortunately, true.

I’m slightly embarassed to admit that Minnow Shirt and I went on several dates, I mean like 5 or 6, before I even noticed that this guy belonged locked in the gun case at Walmart. Needless to say, I’ve never been a great judge of character.

But on that fateful night of date 6, I remembered to shave my legs, applied an extra layer of my industrial strength Rave hairspray (which FYI is God’s gift to those of us born with flat hair) and awaited Minnow man. When I opened the door to greet my date, I’m fairly certain my face  made a cringe similar to the one made after a cheap tequila shot.

Now, just so you get the full picture, I had carefully selected my latest, trendiest top made my child laborers for the bargain price of $8.99 and a snappy pairs of jeans. He, on the other hand, was wearing a top that your crazy Uncle Merv wouldn’t wear to a backyard fish-fry. It was neon green button-up with a color scheme simmilar to a Hawaiian shirt, and you guessed it, little minnows all over it. Although I must correct myself here, they weren’t minnows, of which my date promptly informed me. When I said, “Are those minnows all over your shirt?” He replied in disgust, “No, do they look like a bunch of uniform minature fish?” To which I intelligently replied, “Um yea, they do.” My fish-naive response then generated a 30-minute (not kidding) schpiel from Minnow Shirt on the distinct variances between the fishes on his shirt. “These are minature-sized versions of full-size fish. Not minnows!”

Despite my harsh de-briefing on the anatomy of fish, for some unknown reason, I continued on with the date as planned. After a tense meal, we headed over to the bar next door for a few drinks. To my luck, the fish gods were in full force that night, as my date plopped down on a bar stool next to a girl who, I kid you not, was wearing a giant Fish pendant around her neck. This thing was the size of Flava-Flava’s dollar sign bling. I was actually amazed that her neck wasn’t tired.

So, with the bar’s only two fish-fiends seated next to each other, they delved into a deep conversation about fishing, fishing poles, different kinds of fish, different places to fish, the best way to cook fish and finally, making fun of me for my fish ignorance, while I aimlessly chewed on my straw and made oragami figures out of the bar napkins. Minnow Shirt proceeded to get Minnow Pendant’s phone number, in front of me. Facebook informed me that the couple had a happy, fish-filled relationship for the next six months.

Now, once in a blue moon, Minnow Shirt will poke me on Facebook. The ultimate mature sign that he’s forgiven me for mistaking minaturized fish for minnows. Thank the lord.

Video: How FaceBook Can Ruin Your Relationship!

A must see video for anyone who has ever had their relationship ruined by Facebook!

more about “Video: How FaceBook Can Ruin Your Re…“, posted with vodpod

What is DisasterDate? Welcome Aboard!

Awkward!

Ah, the world of dating?  Confusing, scary, awkward, embarassing, alarming; these are all adjectives I would use to describe the dating world. Notice how none of them seem to0 positive?  Now don’t get me wrong, DisasterDate isn’t all cynicism and doom and gloom. Quite the contary, in fact. I created DisasterDate in an effort to help others, like myself, who are all too familiar with what I like to call the “DisasterDate.”  The kind of rendezvous where your date has spinach in their teeth, horrendous pit-stains or spends the whole night talking about his/her ex. If you’ve ever experience a scenario such as this, you’re not alone.

This blog will detail stories of awkward and down-right outrageous first dates so people everywhere will gain strength through their dismal love lives. Perhaps by sharing my own hilarious stories and those of my friends, the blogosphere will see that most people have been forced to navigate the pitfalls of dating at one time or another. It’s ok, a couple bad dates aren’t your fault. So read on, have a few laughs and hopefully your next date won’t be a “DisasterDate.” But if it is, at least you’ll be able to laugh about it and know you’re in good company.

-DD