Dating with a chance of puke

Good God does it suck to get sick on a date. I’m not normally a puker, but when I let loose, it’s loud and uncomfortable to be around. Just so we dive right into graphic (for this post is not for the weak of stomach), I have an intestinal disease and literally puke from my intestines.

Ok. So. Now that you have that image/ sound, let me get started with this post. This is actually my first post where I have input from some friends who were gracious enough to allow me to tell their stories, and their stories will be mixed in.

For me, this situation has not happened tooooo frequently, but the few times I have hurled on a date sure are memorable.

The first time was probably my personally most awkward. So, here’s some TMI for you (as if this blog wasn’t enough…?!): if I am drunk or even slightly tipsy, and I make out with you, I will 99.9% guaranteed puke on you.

That’s right: puke ON you. It happens quickly. That’s why I said make out instead of sleep with. You won’t make it to the sleep with part.

Be glad you’re not the person who discovered this. But then again, that poor bastard just had to test it a few times to make sure that was my trigger, so I don’t feel all that bad. He kinda saved everyone who came after (tho there has been the occasional brave/ idiotic person who has tested this theory. Here’s a friendly tip: if someone says they’re a puker, and are kind enough to tell you a trigger, for God’s sake don’t fucking test it. Unless that’s your fetish. Which is fine. Just let that person know it’s your fetish so they don’t feel awkward.).

So now if there’s a chance of making out or sex, I cut myself off after one drink. Why spoil the fun? That’s not the extra lube most people are looking for.

And now for some fun stories:

Like that time a friend was on a date, and they went for a run. He encouraged her to sprint towards the end, and she took about 2 sprinting steps and hurled everywhere. She got mega points for the effort and being that hardcore…but he didn’t reward with a kiss…because…well…yeah.

One time I had a medical procedure done earlier in the day…and I felt drinking beers in the evening was a good idea. I had a broken foot at the time, and barely crutched it over to the bathroom on the other side of the bar before I let loose. Ok. So. I didn’t actually make it. But that’s what hands are for (yes I burned those crutch handles). I thought he didn’t notice (ok, hoped and fucking prayed he didn’t), but he did. When I got back to the table, he was looking uncomfortable and was like “uh…you ok?” I, still thinking I could hide what happened, breezily said “yeah! I’m fine! Why?” To which he replied “cause you just puked in the hallway.” Oh. You noticed. Dammit.

Then there’s the friend who was on a dinner date to meet her new boyfriend’s parents for the first time. She’s not overly good on lactose, and ordered clam chowder (yes, she still questions this move)…and hurled. His mom definitely noticed.

One night I was out with a guy who I wasn’t too stoked by, but was trying to be open minded (he was a 27 year old virgin and super Christian and not a big drinker. I’m sure you have noticed these are not my traits.). He was trying to impress me and the co-workers (including his boss) that we were out with and decided to go drink for drink with me. I should mention that I was drinking beer. And he was drinking Manhattans. He puked at the table. He was kind enough to order me a cab home. I told the cab that I lived in the next neighborhood over and walked 2 miles home in heels so the guy would never know where I lived.

Another friend decided to go shot for shot with a Marine to impress her date. The rest of the night was spent in the bathroom.

Then there’s the person who found a big strong person to carry her down the stairs to her room…and projectiled All Over Them as a thank you/ parting gift.

Or that time a (slightly nauseous) friend was picked up for a date with a rich dude in a rich car…and she had to roll down the window and hurl out the side. He promptly returned her to her front doorstep.

And one of my personal faves:

A few years ago, I was on my 4th date with a guy I really liked. Ok, so I may have been shallow at that time and was more into his penthouse and luxury car. But still. I invited him to a friend’s birthday party where I proceeded to make my famous beer-garitas (equal parts limeaid, tequila, and Corona. You’re welcome.). These things are deceptively strong. And I pounded a few. I was in a mood to have fun and get laid. Both happened. But…I also found myself hurling as quietly as I could a few hours later into a very expensive toilet. I am not a quiet puker. Like, REALLY not quiet. Go back and read the first part of this post. But I did my best, drank mouthwash after, and slipped back into bed. I was sure he didn’t notice.

A week later, some friends and I were at his place having wine, and he made a comment about me not having too much so I don’t puke again. To which my dear friend yelled across the room, “Dude!! He noticed your yaking!!” Sigh. Busted.

I guess the bottom line is know your limits. Sometimes puke happens. But. Try to avoid it…and if you can’t, at least make it memorable.

Déjà vu for one?

Ok so this is one of those moments that I’m sure I am not alone in. One that really is a buzz kill in the moment (and for a few moments/ days following), but is eventually so worthy of a good eyeroll and laugh and a story that starts with “man, this one time…”

It’s that moment when you meet someone in public that you have been on a date with…and they have no fucking clue who you are. And no amount of you gently nudging their memory works.

My particular experience with this one was a few years ago. I’ll start with our date (because even after a few YEARS I still remember it). Our date was at a cozy coffee shop, which was perfect to create that warm romancy atmosphere on a date in the dead of a New England winter. It was our first date, and we had met over Plenty of Fish (I told you this was a few years ago). I arrived a few minutes early, and excitedly waved him over when he walked in. I had already ordered a large peppermint hot chocolate swimming in whipped cream. He walked over with a glass of milk. Yes. A glass of milk. Weird, right? Still the only person to order a glass of milk on a first date.

“Ok. Calm down, self,” I muttered almost audibly, as he took off his winter coat and looped it over the back of his chair. We started chatting, and conversation flowed easily. We were both nervous, but not in a way that made one of us too awkward to function (this has happened to me before. I guess the bonus of a lot of dating is you get good at navigating the awkward?). We talked about how much I love to play tennis and ride horses, his passion for playing and DJ-ing electronic rock music, and our other quirks that are a unique combination that makes us originals. We hugged at the end, and I walked away hopeful for a second date.

Until the text the next day that was along the lines of “sorry, I just didn’t feel it.” I was bummed, but was also glad he was that up front.

Fast forward about 6 months to the hot summer nights spent dancing your booty off in a club.

I was out enjoying myself with my roommate at a club, and we paused to have a beer at the bar and cool off for a minute. A dude came up to me and started talking and after about 30 seconds I realized exactly who this guy was…but it wasn’t clicking for him.

As he retold all of his tales, I stayed quiet, thinking “he HAS to know we went on a DATE, right?!” I tried hinting that we had met before:

“Oh wow, you totally seem like the type of guy who loves to play electronic music.”

“I bet you are a DJ as well.”

He kept commenting that I am such an intuitive person. I sighed and started giving some details about myself in an effort to not have to point out that we had been through this before.

He didn’t get it.

Or maybe I’m not that unique of a snowflake? No. Gotta be the first. Right?

I kept shooting my wingman roommate looks of “oh DEAR GOD help me right fucking now!!!”

She was too amused to help. She had the best front row seat in the house. Because it was obvious to her just listening in that we had met before. He was still clueless.

When he finally stopped talking about himself for a minute to start to introduce himself, I said “I bet your name is ___.” He was beside himself with how psychic I appeared to be. It was then I decided to let him in on it.

“We’ve met. On a date. It was at Blah Blah Café and you ordered milk. I hope to God you don’t remember my name and that my phone number is still not in your phone. Good luck with life.”

And we left. My roommate had the best abs from laughing so hard at the situation. It took me a bit to get there, but after about a week, my ego eased up and I realized that this situation was indeed hilarious, and wasn’t at all about me.

The biggest lesson I have learned in dating is that it is often not about you if someone doesn’t like you; more often than not, it’s them being in their own way and/ or still healing from their last shitshow of a relationship. I have met plenty of wonderful people, but at the wrong time–and I have probably done this to some people. It would not have been about them. At all. Dating leaves you with some wounds and scars, and you never know when they might transition from the former to the latter, or when the right person will come along to make you not even remember that scar exists.

I have always hoped that this guy took the situation in stride and got a wake up call. But if not, I hope the next girl was also able to laugh it off.

Allergic to dating, or just allergic?

Chances are, either you have allergies yourself, or you’ve been on a date with someone who has some. Allergies can pose a very real risk of someone getting hurt. And not the typical dating hurt of feelings getting hurt.

Hives. Trouble breathing. Anaphylaxis.

My experience has been of being the allergic person in the room. I had allergies early in life, before allergies became trendy. Before everyone actually understood them. Before people grasped that lying about having eaten a Snickers bar a few hours ago so you can get that goodnight kiss can really do some damage.

But, as with all awkward dating moments, I have some truly awkwardly hilarious moments surrounding my allergies.

To fully disclose, I have had a nut allergy since I was a little kid. I’m allergic only to tree nuts, but with peanuts being processed so closely with them, I’m allergic to peanut chunks by default. But…smooth peanut butter is ok. As is if I shell peanuts. And peanut oil is a-ok. However, these caveats confuse the fuck out of any normal person, so I just say I’m allergic to all nuts. I’m also allergic to fruit, carrots, and peas…but this is only in the last 8 months, so even I am still getting used to these.

First dates are always the hardest. You always want to present your best face, and allergies are so difficult to bring up. I usually spend half of the first date trying to figure out how to smoothly disclose this fact. And in case you haven’t noticed from my other posts, I’m not exactly a smooth operator.

Here are some examples of the awkward moments.

One of my more memorable experiences was a few years ago. I knew the guy was coming to our first date from a café, which made me nervous that he could have eaten a nut-laden goodie. We went for a walk and wound up sitting in a park. It was clear he was working up the nerve to kiss me, and I was trying to figure out how to ask if he had eaten nuts that day. He finally just dove in and I pulled back saying “wait wait wait!!” but he was just going for it. I mean, kudos to him. I finally resorted to putting my hand in between our mouths. He was mortified. I explained about my allergy and he said gruffly “I have the same allergy too—can I just kiss you now?!” He hated that story. We went on to date for 7 more months and that story came up frequently when people asked about our first date. He also benchpressed me on that date to show how manly he was. I think I hated that story more than he hated the kissing part.

So with people who are outwardly men, it’s usually the ‘what have you eaten today’ factor that I have to worry about. With women, I also have to ask exactly what chapstick they use. So many chapsticks have almond oil in them. Good times. I should be a fucking professional detective by now. Or at least an interrogator.

Women tend to use allergies as a subtle hint that the date isn’t going well. One woman I went out with a few weeks ago ordered a coffee drink and put almond milk in it, and we had already had the allergy conversation. Her first drink didn’t have almond in it, so when I said something, she fidgeted for a minute, and then said, “yeah…that was my hint for I don’t think we have a great connection and we are clearly not kissing at the end.” Ouch. Check please. And a shot of whisky for my ego.

Another time, I was out with a guy who ordered a quesedilla that had almond slices in it. As he ordered, I blurted out “you know, I’m allergic to that.” His response was “you’re not the one eating it.” I felt so rejected and confused and out of sorts. I thought the date was going really well, and took it to mean that he didn’t want me near him. At the end of our date, he leaned in for a kiss. I was surprised, and told him that since he ate almonds, I couldn’t kiss him. His perfect response: “oh shit! You move fast! I just wanted a hug!!” It covered the awkward moment wonderfully and we both laughed and were able to joke about it for a while after. He offered to go buy a toothbrush so we could kiss…but we both knew the moment was long gone, and we had just created one of our first stories.

Fuck—dating is hard enough without having to track all of your date’s food and drinks on a date! But if handled with kindness and humor on both ends, it can be the thing that makes you bond a bit.

For instance, I recently had a new dating buddy make dinner for us. He texted to see what my allergy list was, knowing it was large. When I apologized for being such a pain, he said that he was looking forward to the challenge of finding yummy things to make that I could eat stress-free. What a relief.

Then there’s the person who used to sit and list off all of their food for the day so I could screen it. My favorite line: “uh…a bagel…and…a Starburst. Let’s get it on!”

Some days I wonder if I’ll ever get allergic to dating, or if each date is like getting an allergy shot and it gets more tolerable over time.

Tho it’s still helpful to carry the EpiPen of dating: humor.


SHIT, are some dates awkward.

But what about the dates that you didn’t know were going to be a date?

If you have no idea what I’m talking about, I’d consider yourself lucky. A few years ago, I moved to a new city and didn’t know a single soul. I found this online forum called “Meet Up,” and decided to give it a whirl. There was an event that piqued my interest—an 80s dance night at a local club. I was so in!! I figured I would meet some cool people, dance out my moving stresses, and see some more of the city.

I arrived and it was a total sausage fest. And not just a sausage fest, a sausage fest filled with some of the worst movers. Sigh. Typical.

I pounded the brew purchased by a desperate sausage, thanked him, and fled back to the dance floor. I found the two other decent dancers, and we hit the floor hard. (I actually wound up making out with one of them in a dark corner that night. Jamaicans are my weakness.) At the end of the night, after chatting with a few other people there, I was giving my number to a woman I met , and realized a few people were eavesdropping. Creepy. But…they wouldn’t actually call…right?


Both of us received calls from eavesdroppers wanting dates. And…we both said yes. Cause…why not?

Oh right. Because those guys got our numbers by eavesdropping.

The guy who contacted me said that a few people from the dance were meeting up for Mexican food in two days and I should totally come. I said yes (did I mention I was a bit desperate for new friends?).

I arrived at the restaurant and saw the guy sitting there waiting. For me. Only me. Because he was at a table for two.

Um…what the fuck?

I sat down and asked if we should have a bigger table and he turned a bit red and shifted around and said we would move if more people showed up. I clued right in to the word IF. I called him out on it and he just looked awkward.

The jackass really thought he could go on a date with someone who didn’t know it was a date. Unbelievable.

And yet.

I know I’m not alone in these creepster stories. You just gotta put yourself out there for dating sometimes, and sometimes you show up to a hang out that’s really a date. You can bitch all you want, be horrified all you want, throw water in the jerk’s face all you want…but let’s be real. It’s a hilarious story.

And as pathetic as we feel when it happens, at least we weren’t the one desperate enough to trick someone into a date.

The worst pick-up line. Ever. EVER.

Ok, so, that title probably has your expectations set pretty high. I promise, I will not disappoint. And this will not be a super long post so you can get right to the punch line.

But first. The scene needs to be set.

I was at a close friend’s wedding. Ok, well, I was in the wedding. Which is always hard when you’re single. But it was a beautiful day, a perfect day to watch two dear friends get hitched. The ceremony was at a local city park and the reception was on the rooftop of their apartment building. It was such a love-filled day, and everyone there was over the moon happy for these two. During the reception, I sat down with one of the other bridesmaids to nom on some potluck goodness, and her date and another guy joined us. The other guy wasn’t exactly who I wanted to be sitting near, but I figured that if he earned an invite, he probably had something going for him other than his faux-hawk, ripped cargo cutoffs, and beater under a short sleeve button up.

Ok, so you have the image?

He pointed out that I was the only single girl at the wedding, and a bridesmaid ta boot. I started drinking a bit more. He said he had something to ask me, so I looked up and the next thing I knew, he cupped my face in his hands and leaned in. I was feeling a bit panicked that he was going to kiss me, and in retrospect, I wish that was all he did. Instead, he pulled me in close, and whispered in my ear,

Can I touch you where you pee from?”

I screeched and flailed…and flailed and screeched some more.


Now, I am usually the one to crack off a filthy joke and watch people squirm, but this was beyond a line and a limit for even me.

Instead of smacking him, which to this day I can’t believe I didn’t do, I asked if that line had ever worked (I recovered fairly quickly and was kinda curious).

He winked in the grossest I’m-a-future-pedophile way and said, “we’ll see later.”

Spoiler alert: he did not find out.

I later found out that he had done a classic wedding crash, and was not at all invited or welcome there. He also had a gun on him. So fucking classy. I also proceeded to drink tequila like it was water and called the bride a guy during my speech (in front of the groom’s Mormon family. I am so happy this couple is still friends with me.).

But the even more magic part? Right as I let out my first screech and flail, the wedding photographer whirled around and snapped a picture. It features prominently in the bride and groom’s photo book from their special day so we all can remember that glorious moment in my life and be simultaneously squeamish and amused.

I could say that I am so annoyed that this happened. But…in the grand scheme of things, it was hilarious.

And I will never lose at the worst pick up line contest. Ever. EVER.

Coffee and sex?

“Would consider coffee and sex?”

The text that started this whole thing that I’m about to undertake. Five simple words really, and from the right person, are sometimes exactly the words I want to hear.

From the wrong person…a flurry of texts to those nearest and dearest basically yelling “what the FUCK” ensues. And another potential relationship bites the dust.

But the hilarious dating stories also ensue. Because we all have them. And we tell our friends…sometimes…but we all secretly worry if we are alone in these moments. Alone in the bizarre experiences that make up dating. Alone in wondering just how much more you can take of these moments. Alone in wondering how you can go on trying.

Alone in wondering if you’ll forever be alone with a fuckpile of cats.

We all know in theory that we’ll find that person. And they will be everything and more and we cling to that vision. But I sometimes wonder if we were to stop to appreciate the NOW of dating instead of looking so far to the future that we forget to sit and laugh and roll our eyes and share our stories. So, this is that platform. A platform to share the hilarious stories, find stories you relate to, stories that make you go ‘fuuuuuck dating’ but know you’ll keep trying, and stories of inspiration. Because even great dates have some awkward moments. This is a blog of early dates, before the major feelings get involved. There are plenty of relationship-bashing blogs out there that for sure have their place. God knows I have enough of those stories. But this is meant to be lighter and tell the weird side of dating framed in humor. Because my worst dates are also my best stories. As a person who has been single for a good portion of their adult life, I have found that many of my in-a-relationship-friends yearn for the mystique of the single life. This is the platform where we can show off dating in a format that actually makes it desirable and gives us a stomach to keep going forward with it, and is also enjoyed by those in relationships.


Ok, so sex and coffee guy. Or coffee and sex guy. At least he knew which thing to offer first?

I should begin this bad dating story with saying how high my hopes were for this one. We met on that glorious app named Tinder, and he looked cute and interesting. He messaged me first and asked if I remembered meeting him a summer earlier. I was up front in saying that I had no clue who he was, but I was in a weird place that summer, so I told him to not take it personally. That was my red flag. He just wasn’t that memorable to me. Even though when I met him I was in a long-term relationship, I would have remembered a cute, funny, interesting guy…right? But we agreed to meet up the following week. After I gave him my phone number for convenience (cause who likes messaging over Tinder?!), he called me. I was a bit taken aback—who the hell uses their phone as a phone anymore? But we wound up having a great conversation that lasted for about an hour and a half. I hung up feeling that warm fuzzy excitement of ‘oh man—could this be The One?’

Oh dating. We all jump to that moment so early on…

The night arrived, and I was excited. We agreed to meet up at a coffee shop (he doesn’t drink. Something about being above it. Second red flag. Being an alcoholic and refraining is totally fine…but because he’s ‘above drugs and drinking?’ Douche.). I arrived and started looking around for the guy. It occurred to me that the guy who looked nothing like his picture was standing there with a big smile on his face.


I steeled myself, kept my sunglasses on for too long once we got inside to hide the curtain of disappointment falling, and then tried to remember to not judge people on appearances. Shoulda just walked away.

But hope. That stupid thing called hope.

To keep this a readable length, here are the highlights:

  1. He’s never watched The Simpsons. And has no desire to. Similar to drugs and alcohol, he’s above it. Who the fucking fuck is above watching The Simpsons?! I literally frame my life around that show. Well, that show, Friends, Seinfeld, and How I Met Your Mother. It’s not necessarily that he’s never seen a cartoon show…it’s the attitude about it, and the cultural references that are missed.
  2. I was willing to overlook The Simpsons situation, but then came the viewpoint on a relationship. Not ever wanting to move in with someone, even your wife, is not the norm. Which is fine. Ok. Well, no, it’s not fine. What’s not fine about it is that you don’t even give the other person a right to an opinion. My last partner had this mindset, and it drove me nuts—but unfortunately, he didn’t express it until 2 years in. Major props to this guy for spilling it in the first hour (also, for those HIMYM fans, “Major Props!” *salute. See?!!?!?!? Cultural references. Important.). This was his mindset and it wasn’t changing. Another red flag: not being open to your opinions and desires. Already.
  3. Later, after I got home, I got a text from him of a gorgeous underwater photo that he took. It softened my opinion of him…until he said “In case it wasn’t clear, totally trying to get in your pants via invertebrate photos.” Facepalm. With the right person…totally woulda worked (I’m a marine scientist). But…read the room. You went in for a kiss and I turned my face and hugged you.

So all that leads to the title of this post. I decided to make my position firm and say that I’m not interested in dating you, and when I said I could be open to the occasional coffee, he then texted “Would consider coffee and sex?”

I steeled myself the next day to (wittily) reply with “No. Please consider losing my number.”

Sigh. Dating.

But. You can’t make this shit up. And that’s what makes dating so delightfully dreadful and fun. You never know where it goes, and when you get a text that bad, you can only laugh, tell all your friends, and then listen when one of them goes “you should write a blog.”

So here I am. Writing a blog to keep dating on the light side. Because it is soul sucking.

As a brilliant former co-worker once said to me after a particularly painful breakup, every relationship is a trainwreck. Until it isn’t.

And. We’ll all get there.