Bad dates are good material.

We go to the movies, and once it gets dark, it gets awkward. First, he decides that he wants to hold my hand, but instead of asking, he says: “You should hold my hand.” I don’t, so he grabs my hand anyway and places it in his lap and begins rubbing up and down my arm. I eventually manage to squirm my hand out of his crotch-area he lets go of my hand, so I’m monetarily relieved. That is, until his hand is suddenly on my lower back, under my shirt. I squirm away from that but then he begins rubbing his hands up and down my side. By now, I’m way past uncomfortable. I remove his hand and bolt to my car.