Worst Date Ever

Back in my younger days, I thought it was fun to “play the personals” (i.e., to go on blind dates with men I met through personal ads). It was a bit like an “extreme sport” but even better because it didn’t require knee pads or a helmet. Actually, I played it pretty safe-I asked potential suitors to first send a letter with a photo. (Nowadays, the proliferation of internet dating sites and 800-number ads has rendered this type of personal ad obsolete.) If I decided to meet them, it was always in a public place where there’d be lots of people around.

At best this type of dating was a crap shoot. I can’t count the times I didn’t recognize my date because his photo didn’t even remotely resemble him. I mean, if you’re bald and weigh 300 pounds now, where is the logic in sending a decades-old photo when you still had a full head of hair and rock hard abs? Huh?

But after a slew of the worst blind dates ever, one particular meeting with a would-be beau went quite well. I met him for lunch at a nice seafood place I’d been to quite a few times. All the restaurant staff seemed to know my date, which I took to be a good sign. The man was charming, outgoing, likable and attractive. Much to my surprise, he even resembled his photograph!

We stayed at the restaurant for several hours, eating, laughing, flirting, and eating some more. It was a wonderful change of pace from all the other hideously bad blind dates. At the end of the date, we exchanged business cards. Because I was a freelance writer working out of a home office, my business card had my address and home phone number on it. Honestly, I didn’t think there would be a problem with that – I really liked this guy, and he seemed so nice and soâÂ?¦normal. We made tentative plans to meet again, and I went home pleased as pie that the date had gone so well.

That evening I was puttering around my house, doing some housework and tidying up. I wasn’t watching TV but had it on for background noise. The news was on, and when I heard something about a homicide and huge “man-hunt” for the murderer, of course I looked up. On the TV screen was the face of the man I had shared shrimp with that very day!

GAA!! My potential boyfriend had apparently just killed a man the day before we met, buried him in his own back yard, and had been seen driving around town in the dead guys car. My first thought was, how could he possibly sit there appearing so nonchalant, eating and flirting with me? My second thought was worse – I realized that he had my address! Afraid that he might come to my house looking for a place to hide (or worse), I phoned the police.

I said, “I’ve seen the guy you’re looking for. We ate lunch together just this afternoon.”

Thankfully, he never did show up at my house. And although the actual date was not the worst part of my encounter with this man, it nonetheless will always be remembered as one of my “worst dates ever.”