The Bad Date Phantom
I had met this guy, Billy, at the gas station on my way home from work. He did construction, so at the time I took his scruffy look as a turn on. We talked and made arrangements to go out. My first overlooked sign of disaster was that he was running late. So, I agreed to meet him at his house. The next sign should have had me doing a U-turn in the middle of the street. Billy called me on my cell to ask me to pick up a bar of soap, deodorant, and toothpaste from a gas station or store. I thought to myself, "What fluke of nature has to occur for this unhygienic bastard to run out of all toiletries on the same day?" But did I return to my home? No, I gave Billy the benefit of the doubt. So, after I waited for him to finish showering, thereby setting us back two hours and skating on thin ice, he asked if I could drive because, allegedly, something was wrong with his truck and he had dropped it off at the shop. At this point my suspicions led me to believe it was never his truck in the first place. Because we left so late, dinner was squashed and I sustained my hunger on popcorn and soda at the theater. About twenty minutes into the movie, he not only fell asleep with his long, lanky legs stretched over the seats in front of us, but he began to snore. LOUDLY! After poking him awake a total of nine times, we left the theater and I drove like a bat out of hell to get him home and out of my presence so I could make a formal complaint to my girls. Once at his house, he actually suggested I come in. As if! And he then made an unwanted attempt at a kiss which was strategically thwarted off. I gave him a reluctant hug and drove off, only to spend the next three weeks trying to avoid the bad date phantom. And to add insult to injury, Billy never reimbursed me for the hygiene items I bought. Stank-on-ya! True story!
— Olivia, 24