There have been times in my life when I’ve honestly felt as though I have an inordinately high number of ridiculous dating stories. The kind of stories that your friends make you tell and re-tell. I have more recently come to the conclusion that I am not more prone to situations in which hilarity ensues (I’m sure my friends will dispute this), but I simply have no shame in sharing to friends, family and colleagues the unbelievably stupid things that I have witnessed actual dates doing.

Here is one that happened about a year ago, and I like to call this story, “let me drop a beat.”

When I was about 23, I did what most 23-year-olds do, which is “fall in love.” Like most 23 year-olds I thought that relationship would “last forever.” And, obviously I was wrong. This story is not about that guy (let’s call him “Scott”) but a close friend of his. So this close friend (let’s call him “Justin”), NEVER talked to me while I was still together with Scott. So I was surprised when (a few months after Scott and I broke up) Justin asked me out on several dates. I finally caved and agreed to meet him for a drink, because I was bored and wasn’t seeing anyone.

He was wearing make-up over his 3 pimples. Not like tinted Clearasil, or whatever. No. Make-up. I let him buy me drinks until I pretty much couldn’t see, and we went to my house (which was across the street from the bar we met at-just in case I needed to make a quick getaway). I’m not really sure why I let him in my house, but I think it had something to do with the fact that I was just looking for ANYTHING to get my mind off of my life at the time. Whatever my reasons were, we started kissing on my couch (please be reminded that I was very drunk). We were a few minutes in, when he stopped, grabbed both of my shoulders, and lightly pushed me away. Then without a moment of hesitation he said “Aight, now I’m going to drop a beat!” And, he started beat-boxing.

Usually I am embarrassed by beat-boxing. This time, however, I wanted to kill him, and then myself. So I did the only thing I could think of as a drunk person, which was to grab the squirter bottle meant for the cats (I had a disgusting room mate with disgusting cats then), and I squirted him in the face. “STOP.” He stopped for a second. Then he giggled (which was creepier than you can imagine), and grabbed the squirter bottle from my hands, and squirted me back. OH THIS IS A FUN GAME I GUESS! (I assume he was thinking). I’m pretty sure I squirted him in the face a few more times, and then he left, probably thinking we were having an awesome time being totally crazy and fun with each other!!!! I went on three more dates with this freak show.

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