The Worst Date Ever

I've been reluctant to put up this story because I didn't want to scare guys off by the threat of a bad date turning into a humiliating blog post. It probably also reveals a little more about me and my dating habits than I'd usually disclose. This date was...special though. And I've finally arrived at the conclusion that it deserves to be written about and shared.

I was at a 21^st birthday party in the city when I met this guy, let's call him Ben.

Now, it seems to me that there are some assumptions that it's natural to make about a person. For example, someone trying to chat up 21 year olds at a 21^st is going to be between like... 20 and 28-ish unless they tell you explicitly otherwise. Also, if you ask them how they know the people of the house and they reply that they went to teachers college with one, and that they have to be at teaching tomorrow morning...you're going to also assume that they're a teacher. Right? I dunno... maybe that's just me.

AAAAANYWAY. So he was playing ukelele at the party for a bit and it came up that I play cello, and then he was all like, 'give me your number and we'll have a jam sesh sometime' etc etc... you can see where this is going.

So the next day I got a text from Ben, asking if I wanted to go to a cathedral in Sydney and watch an awesome choir sing some classical Bach. Don't mind if I do sir. Don't mind if I dooooo.

Subscribing to the theory that you can't spell classical without 'class', I turned up to the cathedral in a nice blue dress. This was apparently another incorrect assumption. Ben turns up in a Hawaiian shirt with his ukelele strung over his back.

Strike one.

In fact... to be honest it was strike one million. It wasn't even particularly the shirt. I just knew straight out that I didn't want to see him again after tonight. There just was a funny vibe. Y'know how sometimes you just... know?

Anyway. The concert was really good – and we didn't get the chance to talk much, other than to make fun of the people who sang with weird expressions on their faces. When it finished it was about 9pm and I'd purposely eaten before hand so that I wouldn't have to go to dinner with him if I didn't want to... which I didn't. But he was 'really hungry' and kept bugging me to get some food with him so eventually I was like... 'well, okay. If you walk me to the station I can show you this awesome Chinese hotpot place on the way and you can get something to eat there'.

So as we walked we were talking, and I asked him about teaching and what his favourite thing about teaching was. That's when things really started to get a little weird. He started becoming quite evasive like...

'oh... y'know... what even IS teaching? Isn't everyone's a teacher of something?' etc etc

It was really suspicious! So I kept pushing and being all like. 'No well... what's your favourite subject to teach?'

Eventually I just stopped in the street and was like '... dude, are you a teacher or not?'

And he looked kinda sheepish and was like. 'Well...I was'.

And then said

'But I stopped about 8 years ago because it was too much pressure...having those kids rely on you so much. So now I'm just a full time busker'.

Awesome. 

Seeing as teachers college is a 4 year degree... I had been totally mislead and was going out with an evasive 30 something y.o street performer.

So when we finally arrived at this Chinese restaurant I asked 'what are you going to order for your dinner?' making it really obvious that I wasn't getting anything. He was really indecisive and said 'well, it seems you come here all the time so why don't you pick for me?' So I did. I walked up to the counter and said 'one chili chicken please'. The man took my order and then said looked at me with his hand outstretched for payment.

And after a really awkward extended pause that's when I realised that Ben wasn't standing beside me anymore. He was standing by the front door, facing the corner, looking really intently at the roof as if it had the secrets of the universe written up there. 

The Chinese man was waiting impatiently and Ben wasn't budging so eventually I was just like... 

'well... um. I guess I'll pay'.

So that's how I ended up paying for this guy's meal... which he then ate in front of me. And dropped a piece of greasy chicken on my dress which now has a huge, immovable grease stain as an awesome souvenir of this bizarre moment.

So then... By now I'm desperate to end this date and leave. We're walking to the train station and I'm agonising over how I'm going to say goodbye to this guy without it being horribly awkward. In the end I settled on the idea of a kiss on the cheek - resolving to give him the IGNORING OF HIS LIFE once I was out of arms reach and safely back inside my apartment. 

I thank him for the concert, kiss his cheek, and turn to leave. 

He goes and grabs my waist. 

Turns me around.

And sticks his tongue down my throat.

It was so abrupt and gross and unwelcome that I actually heard passersby go... 'Eurghhh'. It was the absolute final straw. Standing in a grease stained dress being pashraped by the busker in central station.

I literally pushed him off me and RAN up the stairs... which he must have interpreted as some romanic cinderella-esk gesture because I got a text later that night telling me how magical the night had been. 

I didn't know how to tell him that I'd gone home and washed my mouth out, and never wanted to speak to him ever again. 

So I just never replied to him ever again and for all he knows, I'm dead. 

The end.