The Craigslist Dates from Hell

**NotSoSilentBob** · August 6th, 2007, 10:30 PM

So about a week ago, I posted an ad on craigslist after some friends suggested it. With friends like these, right? 3 dates in one week is good progress!

"Date #1 - The Young'en"

This contestant seemed sweet enough, a southern bluebell type with big dreams and no clues, I'm just the stability she needs. Enter Mr. Hero. After talking on the phone for a while, she suggested we get together. Fine, I'm thinking, this is gonna be easier than I thought. We agreed to meet at Starbucks in Santa Monica by 3rd street, nice and safe and very public. I'm there maybe 5 minutes early. 20 minutes rolls by and I'm thinking, ok, she's a no-show so I'm outta there, tail between my legs and all. But as I'm leaving my cell rings and it's her. "I'm running behind, please wait for me!" Ok so fine, that's cool and I thank her for calling at least to let me know. I'm a nice guy, right? I understand [censored] happens, so it's really no problem. Another 20 or so minutes rolls by and I'm back to getting really annoyed, [censored], my hair was perfect today, too.

It's been almost an hour and my cell rings a second time.. "I'm sooo sorry, I'll be right there!" I give her an 'out', saying "Look, we can do this another time, it's no problem.." But she insists and is on her way and how she really wants to see me, bla bla. Another 30 minutes goes by, and yes, I have rocks in my head for waiting at all. But she finally calls a third time saying she's pulling up in a cab. I look out the window and, sure enough...

I wander outside and she's arguing with the cabby over... something. So I'm standing there and out from the back seat steps this girl who looks like she's just been run over. Repeatedly. Soaked, she's sweating so much she's actually shaking, what the..? She's pale as a ghost ? christ, this girl's almost green. "Uh... you ok?" She's out of breath and looking really f***ing... bad. She's young, only 23 but looks like she's escaped from a meth lab. The cab's still waiting and she's basically leaning out the back door. "I just left the clinic and, well, I just found out I'm pregnant." Good times. Well what would you do? I say the only, witty, dumbass thing I can think of "Well, at least we know it's not mine!" as I crack a stupid [censored] smile.

So she says "I'm sooo sorry, I'll call you.." and with that, hops back into the cab and is gone. I'm thinking, this could only happen to me.

This girl had just been in town for a week. She'd come here from Pennsylvania to go to school or to pursue some other daydream, and was staying with her aunt and uncle. It turns out that she'd hit Venice Beach the day after getting to L.A. and hooked up with some dude down there on the beach. A real romantic type, I'm sure. She didn't even know his name. Hey daddy, if you're reading this, you might want to leave the country.

Two days go by and she's calling, wanting to talk, it's obvious she wants to talk to someone, anyone - and doesn't know anyone else here. Enter Mr. Nice Guy to the rescue. So I take her out for coffee and she's gobbling down every sweet thing behind the counter. "Cravings, huh?"? In two days, it's obvious she's already packed on 10lbs. She brings up the subject of abortion, as if looking for an approving nod. I tell her that if she needs help with anything... She's frantic, scared and so damn young.

Eventually, ill-conceived notions of Christianity take hold and in no time she's packing her bags to go off and become a statistic. I picked her up at her relatives to give her a lift to LAX, cuz, I'm the nice guy, right? The whole time her aunt and uncle are looking at me like I'm a pedophile. "Can we go now?"?

At this moment, she's back in Pennsylvania living with her divorced mother waiting to grow up so she can become a single mom. Thatta girl.

"Date #2 - The Sweet BBW"

I figure, why not. We'd talked a couple of times but it was one of those 2-3 hour deals, you know, where you 'connect'. I'm open-minded so when she says "I'm a big girl..." I'm thinking "Cool, just like a scooter - great fun as long as none of my friends find out." But I should have known it was never going to work, she's a snorter. Big, huge laughs that always end in deep, rolling snorts. Christ. And she laughs at EVERYTHING, and ends every sentence in "sweetie"?. She's throwing a party and insists that I go. I don't know the area but I Mapquest it and make my way there. How bad could it be? Sweetie..?

Since it's a party, I figure it'll be a safe environment. This quickly turns out to be a poor tactical error. There were maybe 25-30 people there and she'd ceremoniously "announced"? that her big date from CL was going to show up. My reputation preceded me. The crowd's friendly enough but everyone's scoping me out, I feel like a leper at a nude beach. "Lucy"? is one of those "I HEART BLUE JELLO" types, all polka-dots an [censored] like that - fat, red lips and excessive amounts of bright lipstick ? it's not long before it's half-smeared all over her face and her size 16 rack is pouring out of her size 12 dress. What is that, razor burn? No, I decide later she'd dumped loads of those sparkles all over her tits. The bad complexion, caked makeup and profuse sweating is just.. I need to get the f**k outta there. To make matters worse, she's decided in no time that I'm "the one" and is all over me, the booze she's sucking back makes matters worse - now she's growing balls.

If I can make my way outside, to mingle, I can plan an escape - time to scope out possible routes. I'm wishing I'd left a trail of breadcrumbs back to my car. There's a group of people in front of the house talking - that seems relatively calm. Maybe I can salvage this evening and hope that if I can stay safe enough, long enough, "lil miss sloppy kisses" will be unconscious soon or latch onto some other manbait.

There's the hedge wall but it's too high, the stone fence is low enough, I could just crash through the next yard, make it to the street and ninja my ass around the block to the car. Need more options.

I'm generally pretty laid back and trying to stay cool, but I've run outside like my ass is on fire but manage to compose myself at the last second. Nice entrance. I'm trying to get on the far side of this group so my back's not facing the door, I need to be on full alert, I'll just hide behind this big dorky guy with the can of Coors and the Hawaiian shirt. I start up a conversation with this group and suddenly get out'ed.. "You're Chris, huh?" I'm so busted, this is starting to feel like a wedding shower and I'm the last one to know.

From outside, I can hear this loud, billowing laughter in the house, it's [censored] obnoxious. The kind of laugh that makes people pause for a moment and wonder, it's like that uncomfortable silence when nostrils flare because a fart has been detected. These people are obviously somewhat used to it. I, on the other hand, am scared shitless.

I'm finishing my beer and now have a decent plan, I got an escape route covered, I check my pockets - got my car keys covered, I'm not sure where I am but it hardly matters - I just need to get away. Too late. The screen door bashes open and out of the house pours Miss Crazy Eyes, tumbling her way out, arms flailing around, her hair is now a huge rat's nest all matted and sticking out to one side. How can one person make so much noise? It's like a stun grenade and everyone's frozen at the calamity. Sweaty, rolling thunder bursts her way through our calm little group - all I can see is lipstick and facial hair.

This girl's arms were easily the size of my legs and she throws them around me and I'm sacked, I don't stand a chance. The empty beer bottle I'm holding goes flying and I now have 280lbs of lustpig on me, laughing and snorting like a drunken banshee. As I'm grasping for air, she's suddenly reaching down and lifting up her $8 skirt to get at her $2 panties. I can't even breathe, I'm f***ed. Her drunken volume crashing into me was enough to knock the living sh** out of me, I'm blacking out, totally. Why the f**k isn't anyone helping me? In that moment, people in the group started to casually make their way back inside, as if to give us our 'privacy', we'll just leave the love birds be. All the while I'm trying desperately to fight off big, wet, sloppy beer and Zima kisses. I start to gag, I can't decide what's worse - the stubble or the gawdawful perfume.

My arms are at my sides and I'm pinned, the mass is overwhelming. I'm looking for my 'happy place' and for a moment I suddenly imagine that I'm being ass-raped in prison. That was all the incentive I needed to help me conjure the Herculean strength it took to get out from under the kissy-face monster.

I ran, I ran in every direction. It didn't matter where I was going, I calculated in that moment that as long as I moved, she wouldn't be able to keep up. "Zigzags", I thought, "just like when a 'gator's on yer ass". Suddenly, my cell's vibrating in my pocket like a crazed snake, I'm just scrambling and clawing at grass to make distance. Run around the block, over hedges, over nicely manicured lawns, desperately looking for my car and my escape.

I come screaming into the first Chevron I see - glowing, greasy salvation in the night. I bust into the place and must have looked like a crazy person, the people in line and the $5 an hour dude behind the counter just stop to look at me, another Kodak Moment. My shirt half ripped, bug-eyed, grass stains all over me and bright red war paint smeared all over my face. Into the bathroom at the back of the store, I rinsed, scraped and wiped off the lipstick, slop and stinky perfume using the bottle of Windex under the sink. I don't think I'll ever get rid of those little [censored] sparkles, though.

"Date #3 - The Asian Escort"

Another 23 year old, a risk but I figure the second time around can't be that bad. Like when Garp decides to buy the house with the crashed plane in it, what are the odds of that happening again? We'd covered the same silly [censored] on the phone, yes I'm funny, yes I have a job, walks on the beach? Sure.

This, I think, has potential. She's told me about how she's into "?older' guys. Hmm, at first I'm kinda creeped out but I figure maybe we'll Mickey and Mallory our way across the country on a crime-spree. Good times. So after the usual emails and the obligatory laughs on the phone, we're on.

She asks for directions to my house and we decide that we'll head out for sushi from my place. I drive, ok I'm in control this time, everything's going great. She's cute, smart and actually decent company. Sh**'s starting to look up. Dinner's great, we rolled out a huge sushi dinner, and $60 later, we decide it's time for coffee. Off to Starbucks we bravely schlep. I should have known, I've had bad luck with that place and am really not down with the latte-slurping dipshits. [censored] it, I'll make the most of it, this has potential. The place is packed but we order our $10 brews and grab the only seats left in the place.

Conversation's going well, and it starts to get... heavy. Like, something's on her mind or she's been waiting to spring something on me. I see it coming a mile away, I got skills. I'm used to you and your sh**, trust me. She has no idea and after the week I've had, nothing's going to surprise me. Then again...

She's new to L.A., she tells me, and has had a lifetime in New York, the ex-boyfriends, the dysfunctional family, the works. It all pours out. I'm thinking "Hmm, another girly looking for daddy"? It turns out that she and daddy don't even speak the same [censored] language, he's Japanese and she doesn't speak a word. "So you don't ever talk to your dad?"? I'm really struggling to understand how that works. "And your mom is Chinese? So do you speak Chinese?"? I should have known better than to ask "No, not really."? I drift off for a moment and find myself trying to imagine Thanksgiving at her house...

In no time, she's back to talking about "?Brian, Michael, Bill...' how her old roommate was screwing Michael, and how Brian turned out to be gay. Perfectly normal, perfectly healthy. This is exactly what I wanted to do on my Sunday night, listening to some girl describe in detail all of her ex's. What, have I got "?baggage handler"? written on my f***ing head? At this point, I've had 3 solid strike-outs. I'm gonna ride this one out and see where it goes, I paid good money for this entertainment, I convince myself I'm gonna sit back and enjoy the show.

The gory details are exquisitely laid out, I feel like I now know all of these guys she's painstakingly describing. It's entirely fascinating, sorta like a train wreck. Wow, what a mess. Enter Dr. Phil. "So do you have anger at these men that treated you so badly?"? I'm so good. "No."? She says, and I'm actually surprised because she means it. "Bill..."? she explains "was 42 and he just wanted to "?keep' me"? I'm reading between the lines here but it seems obvious.. "Wait, he paid you for sex?"? She's surprisingly comfortable with this and now the entire discussion is based on how "?acceptable' it is for her to perform this "?service'. "If I'm going to have sex anyway, why not get paid for it?"? Yeah, I get it girly, I think you might be onto something there. How fascinating, I'm entirely engrossed and entirely grossed-out. I begin to notice under the harsh, midnight Starbucks glow that her complexion is ...off. It's then that she explains how her "?arrangement' with "?Bill' ended when "?Michael', her ex, gave her genital warts. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner. Of course, "?Bill', the paying customer, wasn't amused at having contracted an incurable STD so, sadly, that ideal relationship ended and I can now thank Human Papillomavirus for bringing us together. Check, please!

After the week I've had, I'm simply awe-struck, it's sublime. As I'm listening to all of this, I know I have a ridiculous grin on my face, I can't help it. Have I gone mad? I mean, is it me? Clearly, I've upset some deity and am now dealing with a chronic karmic deficit. And to think, I used Whitestrips all week for this?

Things with Miss Exotic rapidly deteriorate and I begin to feel icky at the thought of having shared a meal with her. Can I rinse it off? Her car's back at my place so I don't have much choice there. I drop her off and give her a hug-less send off, good luck. I make my way up to my pad, out with a bottle of red and enjoy the sound of the ocean. I'd rather be alone, thanks anyway, L.A.

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I'm a 30-something web geek, a photographer, stunt-chef, stunt-driver and occasional composer. I like cats, dogs, fish, walks on the beach and holding hands by the fireplace. I am currently single.