Bad dates are good material.

I went out with a Hindi guy who several years prior had moved to the U.S. from India. He kissed me, and when he pulled back, he stared directly at the center of my forehead. After a long pause, he asked, “Is that a bindi?” Confused, I stared back at him, unsure what to say–was he making a joke about wishing I was Indian, too? I laughed…until I realized he was referring to a giant red pimple in the middle of my forehead.

The waitress gave me a weird look when she brought me to where my blind date was waiting. He was on his second martini, and downed it and ordered another before I could get my first drink. From the moment I sat down to the moment I left (15 excruciating minutes), he spewed venom about his ex-wife, and then decided everything he said about her applied to ALL women. As I got up to leave, he slurred, “So I hate women…does that mean you have be such a bitch and leave?”

We went out to dinner one night in August. He was sweating despite the air conditioning, and he immediately asked the waiter to bring over water, which he gulped down in seconds. (I figured he was hot because it was, you know, August). But he just kept drinking–he needed his glass refilled six times before our food even arrived; after that, I lost count. He was super twitchy, which I first thought was nerves. But as he went to the bathroom three times during dinner (and came back more jittery each time) I started to think he wasn’t dehydrated–he was on coke.

He was a dark, handsome grad student, and we bonded quickly over our mutual appreciation of sci-fi and craft beer. So I didn’t regret going home with him…until I woke up in the middle of the night and he’d disappeared from his own apartment. I called his cell phone in a panic, and he explained, “I don’t like to cuddle, so I’m staying at my office overnight. You can let yourself out in the morning.”

I met a guy in Australia who was a good-looking surfer type. We go out for dinner and over appetizers, he leans across the table and reaches towards my face. I thought he was going to stroke it (which would have been too intense anyway), but instead he pulled some sleep out of the corner of my eye, licked his finger, and said, “I can’t wait to consume you.”

A friend of a friend asked me out at a very noisy bar, so I had no idea how LOUD he talked in everyday life. On our date, sitting at a coffee shop, he yelled through the entire conversation, which was embarrassing enough…until he decided to tell a story about how when he was 14, he was flexible enough to give himself oral pleasure. I turned bright red and tried to change the subject, but he went on about how he used to do this all the time until he was no longer flexible enough to reach. The people around us looked like they were trying not to laugh…or vomit.

I met a guy on online, and we had a great dinner. But as the night progressed, he kept drinking to the point of becoming obnoxious. When I drove him home, he insisted on smoking a cigar in my car, and farted loudly several times, laughing hysterically. I obviously didn’t contact him and didn’t hear from him, either, until a week later, when he texted me that he was getting back together with his ex, but would still be interested in hooking up if things didn’t work out with her.

I went to prom with a guy my gym teacher set me up with. (First mistake.) After the dance, we left for an afterparty at his best friend’s house, which was in the neighborhood. I normally wear a seat belt, but it was just two blocks and the car was packed, so I decided to forgo it. In an attempt at coolness, my date decided to slam on the accelerator, hit the breaks, and pull the emergency break at the same time, which sent our car flying into a ditch at 30mph. When I opened my eyes, I was in the back seat…yet I had broken the windshield into a spider web with my head. Miraculously, I was fine and, weirdly, so was my prom hair.

I’d just come out, so my straight couple friends decided to help me meet a guy by inviting their single gay friend over for dinner. The problem was…he wasn’t interested in me. Because he was clearly in love with the guy from the straight couple, and he spent the entire night jealously picking at the wife.

After a dull dinner, he suggested a movie. Just as the movie started, he leaned over and whispered in my ear “Can I have a widdwle kiss?” “No,” I hissed back, “Watch the movie.” A couple scenes in, he started doing something weird to my hand. One hand was holding it, while the other started performing odd thrusty motions, like I was being hand-humped. I pulled my hand away and sat on it. In the final scene, he leaned over and asked for a kiss again, in baby talk. I ignored him, which to him meant, “skip that step entirely and steal second.” He made an odd lunge motion for the popcorn, his hand landing on my boob. I instantly grabbed the offending appendage and tossed it back at him.