When it comes to bad dates, let’s face it ladies . . . we all have a share-worthy story to tell! Tell us what went down on your worst date ever! Email your story to TrueLoveMagazine@yahoo.com. And don’t forget to check in every Wednesday for your dose of Worst Date Wednesday!
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Mothers mean well, but they don’t always know what’s best—especially when it comes to playing matchmaker in their daughter’s love lives.
Mama was worried that I, at just twenty-one years old, was too critical when it came to men and dating. I knew what type of men I was attracted to, and it wasn’t the sons of the women in Mama’s card group. But she just wouldn’t stop meddling in my love life.
“I want you to meet Ruth’s handsome son, Markie,” Mama said excitedly. She had told Ruth that I didn’t feel “complete” because I didn’t have a boyfriend.
Markie was the umpteenth loser I met though Mama’s matchmaking. He was twenty years my senior and had obviously never been introduced to personal hygiene products. Markie’s foul stench, greasy hair, and green, toothy grin was nauseating. He lived with his sickly, elderly parents in a one-bedroom apartment; the sofa in the living room was his “room.” He worked from time to time as a graphic designer for an independent newspaper company in Long Island that was run by his aunt and uncle.
I didn’t agree to go out with him to boost his ego or to please myself; it was to make Mama happy. At the time, I lived in New York City. Markie had a phobia that prevented him from learning to drive—although I think it was more about cheapness than fear—so he had to take the train.
There are countless great, ethnic restaurants in Manhattan, but Markie’s “allergies” and “sensitive stomach” would not allow him to experiment with all the exotic herbs, spices, and flavors of my favorite foods. Markie could only eat bland, boring, American cooking, from chain-owned establishments. At the end of the date, I was the one stuck paying the bill, not to mention the tolls and parking fee. And on top of all that, I even had to give him money to ride the train back to Long Island. Had I known he was a paranoid moocher beforehand, I would never have agreed to let him take me out!
After explaining my worst date ever to Mama, I begged her not to interfere again in my search for “Mr. Right”—or else she could date him herself!
—Rochelle D. S., South Carolina
