Dating Disasters: ‘There I was, thinking about how to get away as quickly as possible’

Look around you and you see them walking everywhere: those perfect couples who look like they found each other effortlessly without having experienced a single bad date. Mega annoying. Believe me when I say this is extremely rare and you are absolutely not the only one whose failed-date counter is now at countless.

In the category ‘shared misery is half misery’, we will take you weekly in our new section ‘Dating Disasters’ through our worst, most embarrassing, and most laughable dates. And of course, I wouldn't be a team player if I didn't kick things off myself. I present: my most hopeless date ever, hands down. Here it comes.

‘I'll cook for you,’ he said. Great, skipping a night of Thuisbezorgd sounded like music to my empty wallet and since this was literally his profession, it couldn't go wrong. I thought.

I had known him for a while. We met in a busy club, but it hadn't gone beyond a fleeting kiss in the stairwell of his apartment. Until now, because now he was definitely ready for it. He thought.

I accepted his offer – after an Oscar-worthy hard to get performance – immediately. Who was I kidding, I had already had a crush on this man from the moment I saw him. A crush based on nothing more than his blonde curls and the mysterious look in his eyes.

Fortunately, I already knew a bit about how things were with this man, so I was absolutely not surprised that our date only took place after a few weeks of deadly exhausting texting and three (!) reschedules (I know: at that moment all alarm bells should have been ringing like crazy, but I just really wanted to sit next to those blonde curls on the couch, okay? I'm not proud of it either). Ready to give up completely, I texted one last time if it would actually go ahead this time. He agreed with medium enthusiasm, but at least we had a date that was happening.

After gathering my self-confidence and my last loose euros for a bottle of Pinot Grigio, I walked towards his house. With fluttering nerves and the urge to open that bottle in the elevator, I rang the bell. I stepped into the elevator and became more nervous with each floor. I was sure: this was going to be a great evening.

I took a deep breath and stepped out of the elevator. At the same time, his front door opened, I looked up. His curls looked different. Had he seriously done nothing to his hair? He looked dead tired and didn't seem to think it necessary to change for our date, because his shirt was covered in food stains.

We walked further into his house and just as I was about to ask what was on the menu, my gaze fell on the dining table. I was utterly shocked. Was there seriously a thick half-eaten Dr. Oetker pizza lying there? Yes, it was really like that. He had already eaten. Shocked, I slammed my bottle of wine on the table. Too stunned to even comment on this unexpected turn, I asked: ‘Shall we?’ Then let's just drink.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘I'll pass, I'm a bit hungover.’ And after pouring me my own wine, he poured himself a glass of water. Oh, how I wished he had canceled for the fourth time. But that wasn't the case.

Now I wouldn't let myself be easily discouraged. Determined to still make it a successful evening, I started talking about this and that. Meanwhile, my second glass was empty and the wine was rising to my head faster and faster, because yes, that's what you get when you don't get anything to eat.

This was also the evening I discovered that two glasses of wine on an empty stomach make my filter disappear, as I decided to ask why he had actually invited me. I had expected every answer except: ‘I actually don't know. Now that we're talking about it, I realize I would have preferred to be here with my ex, I'm really not ready for new dates.’ What?! Shocked, I poured myself another glass of wine. What was I doing here then? Why was I sitting here again with a full glass? What was I supposed to say to this? Jesus, I was so hungry too.

First, I needed to go to the bathroom, just to collect myself. Just as I was about to close the door, he ran after me with a roll of toilet paper. ‘Here, I think it's out.’ I didn't know whether to laugh or cry a little from misery. There I was, like an unwelcome camping guest, in stilettos, trying to figure out how to get out of there as quickly as possible.

‘I'm going, should I leave the wine here?’ I asked when I came back. I immediately reconsidered. He wasn't getting my wine. With a still half-full bottle, I marched towards the front door and also gave him a kiss on his cheek. I know. I should have given him a kiss on his shin, with my foot.

And so I stood there, after the most anticlimactic evening of my life, less than two hours later back in the same elevator. With each floor, I became sadder, I felt incredibly rejected. Once outside, I looked around, it was still early. I had to turn left for my house, but a friend lived to the right. I immediately called her in a state and within five minutes I was in her living room. She apologized for the mess, but I would have preferred to be here a hundred times more than on that guy's couch. She handed me a glass into which I immediately poured the remainder of the wine, opened a beer for herself, and within 0.3 seconds we were already laughing about what had just happened. That house, that wine, that pizza, THAT TOILET PAPER!

This was the last place I expected to end up that evening, but the only place I wanted to be at that moment. At the end of the evening, I stumbled out of her apartment with a stomach filled only with one bottle of Pinot Grigio, but with a full heart, and walked home via the snack bar. I've never had such a good ending to a date.

Do you want to share your Dating Disasters with us too? Great! Send an email to info@amayzine.com and maybe you'll read your story here soon.