The Worst Date Ever

In response to a recent post about the second to the worst date ever, some of you have inquired about the worst date ever. Here it is:

I was 17. I'd never met or dated anyone I'd just randomly met. In my innocent, virgin, straightedge mind, dates consisted of ice cream sundaes and holding hands in a movie theater. He was handsome, for a dude-bro, and he came by Bull Moose to pick up a Spoon album. I walked him over to the section and said, "Girls Can Tell?" and he responded, while leaning his body towards mine, "I don't know, can they?" I blushed, ran away, and he asked me for my phone number. He worked at the Gap, and his best friend in high school (two years ahead of me, from across the river) was dating the head cheerleader/class vice president from my class. Maybe I thought this was going to be some sort of 'She's All That' kind of nerd makeover story or something.

We agreed to meet at my job at a specified time, since this was almost ten years ago and not everyone had cell phones yet. He was an hour late, and made no apologies, no excuses. I pretended not to notice, since I didn't know what else to do. He used the bathroom at the store, then again two or three times when we went to Friendly's for ice cream and grilled cheese. I think I also saw him pop some pills. He's still cute, but we don't have anything to talk about, and his behavior is not normal.

I suggest we go to the movies. We get there, and we've missed all of the shows by five minutes. Not a problem. Even back then I had my finger on the pulse, so I suggest an indie hip-hop show at Bates. (His interest in Spoon was a fluke. This guy was way more WBLM than WRBC.) We arrive and the show doesn't start for another hour and a half. I'm baffled. He uses the bathroom again, then suggests we just go for a drive, normal small-town teenager passtime stuff. We were in separate cars up until this point, but he volunteers to drive. Why the fuck was he peeing so much?

We're out over by the Lake, and I'm assuming he's just going to take us on a nice drive around the lake, something we do sometimes when we get bored. But then he turns right, down a wooded, unpaved road. There's a road closed sign. I start to panic a little. My mom had no idea where I was, in fact, no one knew where I was or who this guy was.  He keeps driving and I'm seeing signs like, "Road Closed in .5 Mile, Turn Back Now!" "Where the Hell do you think you're going? ROAD CLOSED, Dummy!" I started getting really scared.

He parked the car in front of some blockades and leaves the car to pee again. I wonder how lost I'd get in the woods and how far exactly I was from Route 4 if I tried to make a run for it. This wasn't part of the Girl Scout curriculum.  The woods were pitch black and if he didn't murder me out there, I figured there was a pretty good chance I'd get eaten by some wild monster/animal (Did I mention I'm scared of the dark, sometimes?) It'd probably take them weeks to find my body. He went in for the kiss. I don't remember specifics, except it was the worst kiss of my life. We made out for a few minutes and I'm seriously regretting putting myself in the situation. He makes a move for my belt buckle, and I push his hand away three times. The fourth time, I stop and tell him flat out, "I'm not going to have sex with you, I'm a virgin." He was really surprised, but got the point, and we headed back in town.

Finally, we arrive at Bates, he pees again and pops another pill, and I'm glad I'm alive and able to focus my attention somewhere other than this creepshow. We stay for about half an hour, I tell him I'm tired and we leave. He kisses me goodbye, tells me he'll call, but he doesn't.

This guy came into the store again once or twice, a year later, and I pretended I didn't know him. There are a few lessons to be learned from this story: tell someone where you're going, meet at a public place, have a cell phone, and remove yourself from a situation as soon as you start feeling uncomfortable. Crazy, huh?