Worst Dates Ever


Blessed with a psycho gene, I don’t think bad dates are a total waste because I can always write about them. I haven’t really been in that many bad dates – the worst I can think of are two first dates with two butches who each showed up with their ex sitting in the back seat of their car (I’m still trying to wrap my head around it!). I know a lot of hot mess butches (like the sloppy drunk who asked me out on a date and followed me to the bathroom to find out why I had rejected her and left her talking to herself at the bar recently), but I normally see the trainwreck coming so I don’t date them.

Some of the not so smooth operators my friends have encountered through the years:

A butch looked normal on her online profile, my friend and her exchanged a few messages before she asked my friend for her number. They hit it off over the phone, talked for four hours, and decided to go out for drinks. When the butch showed up she looked nothing like her profile pic (which must have been taken 20 years prior), and her hair was greasy and reptilian – as if a cow had licked her head right before their date. To make things even worse she had “left” her wallet in her car so my friend had to pay for drinks. The butch wanted to go out for dinner, but my friend came up with an excuse and left.

Another friend went on a date to the American Museum of Natural History with a hipster butch. Her date thought they could get in for free with her student ID, but didn’t bring it. She made my friend pay for tickets for special exhibits and 3D movies for both of them, and disappeared right after they entered the Ocean Life hall. Two hours later my friend got a text from the butch saying she wasn’t feeling ok and had gone home.

A butch spent all night looking at another one of my friends with “crazy X files liver eating monster,” intense eyes and talking about getting married and having kids with her. It was their first and only date.

One butch asked my friend out and took her to her favorite restaurant after asking her where she wanted to go. They kept talking and talking and talking. The check came and never once did this butch pick it up. Twenty minutes went by and my friend picked up the check to see if the butch would offer to pay, but that woman had no intentions of paying. When my friend told her there wouldn’t be a second date because she hadn’t picked up the check, offered to go dutch or at least left the tip, the butch told her she had picked the restaurant so she had to pay. Hmmm. We are pretty sure that’s not how it works. Next!

Another butch wanted to see my friend really bad and chased her for months before they went out on a date. When my friend got there, the butch smelled like weed. She said she did it to calm her nerves down and she doesn’t do it often, but she felt my friend was so out of her league she had to calm her nerves smoking one right before dinner. My friend walked out of the restaurant without even ordering a drink.

A friend went on a date with a butch who looked great on paper. In person, she matched her online profile to a T, looked even better than on her photos, was funny and charming… but she got drunk and fell asleep at the bar. My friend wouldn’t let her drive and she didn’t drive herself so she ended up spending $100+ on a cab to the butch’s place in Brooklyn and a cab back to her place in Manhattan. The butch’s roommate thanked my friend from saving her the trip, said it happened all the time, and that normally she would get a call from whatever bar and she had to go pick up the butch herself or find someone else to do it. Best part is the butch texted my friend ad nauseam asking her why she had stood her up that night.

One other butch was so handsome, gentleman by opening the door and really, really nice. She is a correction officer in Long Island and just kept coming unexpectedly to my friend’s house and/or asking where she was. One time she waited outside of my friend’s house for three hours until my friend left a birthday party and got home. Another time she kept calling my friend at work asking her when she would be back. When my friend said she didn’t want to see her again, the butch kept showing up at her place unannounced and uninvited. That’s how my friend the “don’t let her pick you up/drop you off” on the first dates rule.

There is this another butch my friend met at a park. She was friendly, gorgeous, and asked my friend for her number on the spot – which was a great plus since nowadays no one has the balls to ask a femme for their number anymore. They talked a little here and there and decided to go out to eat. At the restaurant the butch kept saying inappropriate things to my friend (like she had found her on fetlife and was up all night masturbating thinking about her in her bikini pic from two summers ago) and going into details about what she thought my friend would like in bed and what she would do to her. Then she proceed to read my friend the prices of everything on the menu and tell her what she could order/calculate how much the date would cost her mixing it with, again, all the things she was gonna do to my friend in the bedroom later that night. I think my friend finished her glass of water, excused herself to go to the bathroom, and left the butch talking to herself.

Another femme met a butch online. While getting to know each other the butch told her she had a buddy to call her to check up on her and determine whether the date was going well. If the date was no good, then the butch would say she had to go with a stupid excuse like a friend got locked out of the apartment or her cat got sick or some other crazy excuse. So they met at a restaurant, my friend saw she wasn’t really her type, nothing like her profile pic but she wanted to be polite so she decided to order just coffee and told her she just ate. Five minutes later a call came, the butch told my friend that her friend had locked herself out of her apartment and left. My friend was relieved to say the least since the feeling was mutual, but it’s funny the butch forgot she had shared her MO with my friend.

Another of my friends met this wonderful butch in a meeting at the LGBT Center. They went for a quick bite to a dinner around the corner and ended up talking for hours. Everything was going great, they exchanged numbers and planned on going on a “real” date. The butch asked my friend if she could do her a favor and write something in a piece of paper. My friend thought it was the weirdest thing ever, but did it. Then the butch asked my friend if she knew that lots of employers use a person’s handwriting to determine a potential employee’s personality. After that, the date went south since my friend felt she was in an interview and being analyzed by some butch she didn’t even know. The butch kept calling for that “real” date but my friend had lost all interest.

Last but not least, chinchilla butch! (*) This was years ago and the woman wasn’t really a butch. My friend lived in a rural area where finding butch women was hard so she lowered her standards. She saw what she thought was a butch’s profile online. This masculine presenting woman wrote in grammatically correct complete sentences as she aspired to be a writer, she was good looking enough, she was in school, and wrote about how much she loved her pets. On paper she looked great and somewhat “normal,” so my friend messaged her. They went back and forth for a few weeks and decided to meet at a local cafe for the first time.

Her date was about twenty mins late (red flag for me but not a big deal for my friend and other femmes who aren’t as uptight as Yours Truly. When she finally got there, she awkwardly approached my friend and made some small talk. Her outfit was all over the place, including jeans under a dress (a dress! barf) and some doily type disaster on her head completed with a cheetah print purse. Not the butch my friend was expecting to see. Her date put her stuff down, got something to drink, and told my friend she looked “super pretty,” she thought she was “super smart,” and she liked her calmed disposition. She asked my friend if she wanted to see something pulling a dirty sock out of her bag and slamming it on the table. It was a dirty mens sock. Within inches of their beverages. The nausea and fear kicked in. What the fuck was in that thing? Dildo? Dead fish? Dear God, a human foot?

She pulled out her phone, started flipping through all the photos and told my friend to take a look. They shuffled through a handful of pictures of her chinchillas doing chinchilla things. One of them was taking a dust bath, another sleeping, both of them cuddling, and other various cute things. My friend told her they were cute and handed the phone back, and her date told her she had to see ALL of them. My friend politely said she had seen enough and her date told her she MUST see ALL photos and videos. My friend obeyed her since, you know, crazy always wins. Near the end there was this video of one of the chinchillas peeing over her date’s hand. My friend passed her the phone back and told her, again, she had seen enough. Her date said: “Oh, you saw [chinchilla’s name] pee on me. Yes, what a naughty, naughty girl. Bad, bad girl.” She started talking to the chinchilla on her phone as if it was in front of her.

She continued yelling to the phone as the other patrons and wait staff started staring at my friend and her. My friend tried to change the subject. Her date kept talking to the phone. Then the transformation began. My friend says it was like watching one of those Sailor Moon transformations except instead of transforming into a kick ass girl in a school girl uniform it’s…a fucking chinchilla. Her date started making squeaking and “yipping” noises. “Yip! Yip! Yip!” She not only had embraced the chinchilla, she had become the chinchilla. She was…chinchilla girl! She kept yelling what my friend and I assume were chinchilla curse words to no one while my friend sat there in shock for what felt like a lifetime. Then she started holding her hands in a pawing motion as if she had paws. She “burred” and made purring noises and nuzzled her nose into her hands. Folks were staring at my friend and the barista gave her the “please leave” look.

My friend tried to get out of there with some excuse and her date immediately snapped out of chinchilla mode and looked at her directly in the eye. “You, you, you don’t like me do you? Oh God. You hate me!” This rant was followed by tears and loud sobbing without any additional words on my friend’s part. She spent the next 10 minutes or so trying to tell this woman that she was a nice girl, but she just had to go. The girl was smart and wasn’t buying it. My friend was stuck between a rock and a chinchilla soft place.

(*) I thought about changing the animal to protect my friend identity but then I said fuck it! I’m sure chinchilla girl has done the same thing to other femmes. Plus, my friend and I are strong, independent femmes who listen to Beyoncé and fear no chinchilla freaks!

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