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The Dining-Hall Dating Disaster

Like a lot of the lovely ladies who's blogs I've read today, I try to keep my "dating" life (or lack thereof) away from this little piece of the internet.  I file it under "too personal", and talk about things stupider than online dating that I've done with my know, like eat an entire jar of cherries in one sitting while my brand-new roommate stared at me.  

Lucky for you though, one of my favorite bloggy ladies - Erin from Two Thirds Hazel is hosting is Dating Disaster link-up today with MacKensie from One to Nothin'.  And who wouldn't want to be a part of that, right? Right.

So today I want to tell you about Alan*.  I met Alan in a Creative Writing class I took my second semester of college.  I liked a story he'd written - so much so that I suggested he submit it to the literary magazine I was a member of.  He, apparently, liked me so much that a date seemed in order.  He was pretty cute, and given the story I'd read of his in class, I was interested.  So we decided to set something up for later that week.

Except that by date, what Alan meant was a trip to the school cafeteria.  While there, he spent roughly 2 hours telling my about his various drug addictions - and I do mean various, but I'll spare you having to know what they all were; his ex-girlfriends; his high-school behavioral problems; his best friend's drug overdose; and his love of the movie Titanic.  This, of course, was only after refusing to say hello to friends of mine who we'd run into at the soup line (while I said hello and practically begged him to come over, he stood about 10 feet back form me staring at his shoes).

I guess drugs and ex-girlfriends must be a real charmer for some ladies, just not the one who explicitly told him she'd never done a drug or had a sip of alcohol in her life; but I can't really blame him for overlooking that bit, since whenever I spoke he seemed more interest in counting the ceiling tiles. Either way though, Alan must have been feeling pretty confident at this point because, as we took our plates to the dish-room and I feverishly texted friends for advice, he invited himself back to my dorm-room.  

Unsure of how to say no, I said yes - but left the door to my room open lest he start feeling even more confident with a bed in clear view.  
For a while - he kept up his conversation from the dining hall, this time adding in the awkward "read my writing pleaseeeee!" before shoving what I can only assume was a diary entry in my face.  As soon as he invited himself onto my bed next to me and insisted on closing the door "because open doors make him uncomfortable" though, I texted my neighbor an S.O.S.

"You have to come save me.  Pretend we have something to do - this guy in my room is freaking me out"

Not five minutes later, my neighbor knocked on the door, a stack of at least 10 (unrelated) books in her arms.  Of course, Alan invited himself along to the library - "need to study? I can help!!".  Thinking fast, I sought for the one subject I knew he'd never enroll in - "uhm, it's a physics test.  We should do this alone. BYE!"  And then we closed the door in his face before he could offer to walk us to the library.  

I'm sure you're already thinking how awful that was, but don't laugh too hard just yet.  As should be expected from a date with someone you have class with, that wasn't the end of that.

A few hours after the library debacle, I received a text from good ol' Alan - asking me to be his drug counselor of sorts.  Apparently the school health center hadn't called him back, and he needed someone to call at all hours of the night when he was getting ready to buy drugs (riiigghhhtt....could that be due to it being midnight on a Saturday?).  Ooo, and he needed my friends too - his weren't good enough if he was going to get sober.  Of course, I told him no - that was entirely too much pressure given that I barely knew him, and whether or not I liked him, I knew I was the last person capable of helping him in this situation.

After that, I stopped speaking to Alan - call me old fashioned, but I was pretty reliant on first-date impressions.  
Save for the occasional **cough cough** "sorry I didn't return your 18 phone calls, I've been sick. Ooo look that's my dad calling gotta go byyyeeee", I only talked to Alan when class demanded it.

Moral of the story, ladies?  Don't date a guy you sit next to in class - at least not until there's only a month left of class.  Otherwise, you're in for a semester of "hey, wait up! We should grab coffee!"  It wasn't until the next fall that I learned he'd pulled the same shenanigans on a friend from a club I was a member of.

So what about you?  Tell me all about your dating disasters so I don't feel too embarrassed for having shared mine. 


*name has been changed for this lovely, upstanding gentleman's protection

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