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Guilty as charged. I've written about this before. I may not have fear on the rink, the court, or the field, but I do have a phobia about my own website. I'm not proud of this, but I can't deny it either. I don't write about some things because I want to spare my parents trauma, some out of respect for others' privacy, some out of pure and simple embarrassment, maybe for fear of misinterpretation or judgment, but mostly because I'm afraid I might hurt someone's feelings.

But spare the bad-dater no more!

I went out on the most horrific date in December yet was afraid to share in case he should somehow stumble upon this and suffer a bruised ego. But there are other, more important things to think about. Helping other girls cope with chronic bad-date-syndrome. Maybe it would even serve as a cheat sheet for what-not-to-do for guys out there who are teetering dangerously close to the edge of dating reason. And even if the guy was somehow resourceful enough to find this website, maybe this might help him get to a 2nd date with someone. It just won't be me.

We will call him Prius.

Prius wanted to be my blind date. I wasn't so hot on the notion. But after a couple weeks of e-mail and instant messaging, I found myself semi-curious about him. We had a lot in common, the picture he sent was a good one, and ultimately, after experiencing a mild case of unrelated heartache, I decided I had nothing to lose.

We met at Majors for a drink. He had a Mike's Hard Lemonade, I had a beer. I should have known then but all-in-all it went pretty well. The conversation was easy, we did have a lot in common, and he seemed like a decent guy. I also realized mid-drink that I hadn't been out on a real date for quite some time. As I was contemplating whether or not this actually qualified as a "real" date, the bill came for our 2 drinks. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm not one to expect anyone to pay for me. In fact, I get in trouble for my speediness with the Check Card. But, in this case, I have to admit, I thought that he might pay. We each only had 1 drink and he was the one who was so eager to meet when I wasn't ready to take the blind-date step. Yet here we are staring at the $6 tab and he flags the waitress down to insist she split the bill. I was trying to hide my surprise and managed to hold in my offer to pay the bill myself. So I paid for my beer, we said our goodbye's and on the way home I convinced myself that I shouldn't read into it. Maybe it was just his first-date thing.

Prius called on Thursday. He got comp tickets to the MN Wild that Saturday, December 17th. Could I go? I had bowling so I reluctantly said no. It hurts me to turn down sporting events. Saturday morning arrives and Heather tells me her and Mike are pre-bowling. Change in plans, I'm going to the hockey game! So I verified he still had the tickets and told him I'd call him after pre-bowling to decide the logistics of the evening. The game started at 7. I offered to meet him somewhere in between. After much confusion, we finally determined Bloomington was a good place; Bennigans to be exact. He likes to get there early, would 6pm be OK? It would be a tight schedule for me, but I said I would make it work.

So I rushed from bowling to home to clean up and prepare for the game. I arrived at Bennigans promptly at 6. 6:06, 6:14, 6:20. Finally, I decide I should call him. Maybe I'm in the wrong place. I admitted to him earlier that I didn't know Bloomington too well, nor how to get to St. Paul the best way from there. Prius answers and is just pulling into the parking lot. I said I'd meet him outside. On my way out the door, I found myself rolling my eyes at the lack of a phone call. I certainly wouldn't keep someone waiting that long without a call or a very good reason. I thought he'd be there, out front in his car, but he had parked along the side of the building and was standing there seemingly expecting me to drive? He apologized for running late and asked if I was ready to go, I said yes, there was a weird sort of jockeying going on with both of us not sure of what to do next. I finally slowly, suggestively repeated that I don't know the area well and he got the hint and led me to his car. We were eastbound on 494. We talked and things quickly returned to normal.

We exited on Kellogg. It's the typical game-time traffic jam and we're stopped just after we get off of the freeway. We slowly make our way towards Kellogg and his car starts acting funny. Sputtering. I notice the gas light is on. You know, the commonly labeled "idiot light"? We were running out of gas. Sure enough, just as we're first in line to turn right onto Kellogg, the car sputters to its slow painful death. He doesn't know what to do. I was calm and trying to find the humor in it. I knew he must feel terrible so I was careful not to make him feel bad or inept in any way. He asked me to walk 2 blocks to the cop directing traffic in front of the Xcel Center and ask for help to which I couldn't hold in my surprise. I politely informed him that the police officer was busy and would not help us - we would have to get gas ourselves. He said he was sure there was a gas station within 6-7 blocks. I asked if he wanted me to go along and he said no. He also said that he didn't have cash. To which I suggested he use a credit card. But Prius didn't bring a credit card. He was planning on getting cash in the stadium. I gave him the $6 I had in cash and my credit card. Yes, I know I shouldn't have done this but I was uncomfortable and panicked. And didn't consider there would be an ATM at the gas station.

After 20 minutes of me directing angry game-goers around the car while hanging my head in shame, he arrived with a gas can and $4 in change. We gassed up and headed back to the station to return the gas can. On the way he tells the story about how this station was actually out of gas. The gas attendant told him he could attempt to get the last drops out of the tanks. He got the last 2 dollars worth. We shared a laugh. So we drop the can and head to the next station for a little more fuel. For some reason, I again, fail to realize that he should be using the gas station ATM. And how was he planning on parking with no cash? I put $6 of gas in his tank and we head back to park. He said he had a usual place, but I quickly realize we are driving in circles. Finally he said he was lost. I told him about the secret around Patrick McGoverns and low and behold, a metered spot awaited. We parked and got to the game with 8 minutes left in the 1st period. I was desperate for a beer. But I was staring at $4. $2 short. I asked if he wanted anything but he said no and shuffled away towards our section.

Once seated, he introduced me to his co-worker and co-worker's girlfriend. The game was a good one and I tried not to look when he bobbed his head to the music. I was mortified. And sober. His friend got up before the 2nd period and informed Prius he was going for beer. Did we want anything? Prius, without consulting me, answered no. Before I could act, my potential beer runner was gone. Halfway through the 2nd period, I was stewing in head-bobbing-beer-abstaining misery so I went to get my own beer. Thankfully, he didn't take me up on my offer to get him something.

To top everything off, the Wild lost. We got back to my car and I fled. Seriously. I fled.

I don't know about you, but if I ran out of gas and for some insane reason didn't have any money or a credit card and had to borrow money from my date, I would be absolutely apologetic and offer no uncertainty about paying the money back. In fact, I would have used the ATM in the stadium as described to settle the debt immediately upon entering the gates. And I would most definitely medicate with the appropriate dosage of barley and hops. Everybody needs a sandwich.

The moral of the story is:

  • Go out with a guy who drinks Mike's Hard Lemonade in December at your own risk.
  • Never give an idiot your credit card.
  • Prius, should buy a Prius.


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WHOA! That was horrible, I totally agree! My worst date was similar, but for some reason he just refused to open the door for me. He even unlocked the door, but wouldnt actually lift the handle. Geez.

Are you from the south?
I miss that about Texas. There was something about that slow Southern style that was the ultimate sexy. The untouchable-bad-boy that still always holds the door. It actually made me uncomfortable when I first arrived. I'd be walking to the elevator and a man would be standing there, waiting and I would motion him to go ahead and there would be a flash of hurt, sometimes even anger in his eyes. Ladies first. I learned to appreciate it very much. It doesn't happen here much, at all in comparison.

I hope you're having better luck on the dating scene now! If one thing is certain, at some point, this will all be funny.

Yes I am from Texas, wow I didnt know my accent was so stong it came thur email. Dang :) Its weird I never thought it really would matter to me, but the second I dated a guy who didnt do it I had a fit.

Good luck, hopefully it will only get better!

Loud and clear Sister! :)

I heard your surprise that a guy didn't open the door for you and knew you had to be somewhere south of here. Funny that my first chivalrous experience was in Texas and there you are.

Even though Dallas ate me alive, I kind of miss it.

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