| Dating Hell |
My husband took me on a date today. He didn't tell me where we were going, just that he was going to take me to lunch and that he had something in mind for us to do.
Dan rarely plans these sorts of things. It's usually me who fills our social calendar and who scopes out the local tourist magazines for weekend activities, so I was quite thrilled by this turn of events.
We got into the car and headed south towards Moss Vale. We passed The Briars restaurant, just south of Bowral, where there was a big banner proclaiming Christmas in July. I got even more excited, because Dan knows that Christmas in the summer here just doesn't do a whole lot for me. I much prefer Christmas in July.
It started to pour - we got out of the car, and I walked up towards the restaurant. We heard people muttering about the restaurant being booked out, but surely, Dan had made reservations.
No - he hadn't. No Christmas in July lunch. We wound up at the local pub in Moss Vale instead, which was cozy, but it wasn't The Briars.
After lunch, we got into the car again and headed out for the rest of our date. Dan had decided that we would visit some of the area wineries that we haven't been to before, to do some wine tasting. It was all becoming clear to me now. Our wine cabinet is getting low, and Dan wanted some new bottles - bottles that I was expected to buy, as I usually take responsibility for this task.
I had to laugh. What's a date without an ulterior motive, anyway? At least it wasn't as bad as the worst date I ever had.
That date happened in 1987. I dressed up for the occasion. He picked me up and we went to a posh restaurant and ordered stuffed mushrooms for hors d'oeuvres. They turned out to be slippery suckers and in between the chatting and flirting, we managed to sail two mushrooms across the floor of said posh restaurant, past the wondering eyes of other patrons.
The rest of the meal went fairly well - no major mishaps. Afterwards, we went to see a movie - Rocky IV - my date's choice, of course. A real "date" movie, yeah. It was the late show - the one where all of the drunks come in. Half way through the film, the guy two rows back from us vomits on the floor. Floor is sloped, and vomitus slowly makes its way towards us. I lift my feet up to avoid the slop. Usher comes in and asks drunk guy to leave.
Date takes me home - we laugh about the evening's mishaps. Within a day or so, I am sick from the meal. I think I have hepatitis. My food sits, undigested, in my stomach, for a week. It literally starts to ferment. For days, I am belching up the gas issuing from the fermenting contents of my stomach. My stomach has not been the same ever since.
I live in another city from my date and we stay in touch and buy each other gifts for Christmas. He buys me a small gold chain. Two weeks later, I hear from a friend of mine who lives in the same town he does - he's been hitting on her and bought her the exact same gold chain he bought me. She and I laugh about it behind his back. Needless to say, the guy I was dating wound up with neither one of us.
This makes having to buy bottles of wine look like the winner of the Most Romantic Afternoon Award. It's all a matter of dating perspective, especially when you've been to Dating Hell.Labels: bad dates, dating hell |
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| 3 Comments: |
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You write the best stories :-)
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Ha! This made me laugh. Sorry you missed Xmas in July!
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Name: Melanie O.
Home: Durham, North Carolina, United States
About Me: Female, American health and beauty-conscious professional who has rekindled a childhood love of dolls.
See my profile...
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posted by Melanie O. at 
You write the best stories :-)