The sad story of one man’s dating attempts while looking for love.

memoirs of bad datesBad Date #1

University girl pesters me to date. I say I’m too busy with school, poor, and don’t know enough about women to please one. Pestering continues until I relent. We date for a year.

The last six months she finds some one else but doesn’t tell me until two weeks before finals. I tell her if you truly love him, then go with him. She leaves. One week before finals she says she loves me instead.

I say okay. One hour before three critical finals, the Dear John letter arrives in the mail. Ace the finals, pass out in despair, don’t eat for three days and lie motionless in bed, face whiter than sheets. Three months later, friend tells me she says she loves me instead, but doesn’t know how to leave current love. I pack bags and move out of dorm.

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Bad Date #2

Pine for a married Caucasian woman in Bukit Timah for two years. Claims she is abused. Comes to me for comforting and illicit love after showing interest in her plight. One year later, starts an affair with another. Confesses, but claims she didn’t enjoy it. Won’t leave husband because of financial security. Wants me as one of many extramarital interests.

I visit private clinic and pay $200 to test for every known venereal disease. Pack bags, sublet apartment, move to East Coast.

Bad Date #3

Calls me every other day for two months. I tell her I have no time because I work twelve hours a day, six days a week. Please find some one else. Finally relent and start dating her. Reorganise her finances so that instead of paying nineteen per cent interest on $40,000 of credit cards, she only has six per cent interest on a consolidation loan. Dumps me because I don’t make enough money to suit her, and because she now wants to see other people.

Four months later calls me saying she devoted her life to Jesus, sobs because she lost her high paying job at a MNC, and moans she can’t pay her bills because now she works as an aid in a nursing home earning $8 an hour. I lie and say I’m seeing some one else, hang up the phone, call Singtel and change my phone number.

Bad Date #4

She didn’t have a date for ten years. Was a clerk making $9 an hour although she had a masters degree in chemistry. Didn’t own a car. Starts dating me. I type her resume. Set up interviews. She gets a job. Increases her wages by five, gets tons of benefits, paid holidays, two months off a year. Buys a car. Dumps me because I don’t make enough money to suit her and because now she had new friends which are more suited to her lifestyle.

Two days later, she comes to me with tears in her eyes saying she was wrong. I suggest she wait a month or two to settle in to her new fulfiled life and then decide. One week later I get her key to my condo in the mail. Two months later she passes me on the street. Says I must come to her place and meet her new friends and fiancee. I accept the invitation, go home, pack bags and leave for Kuala Lumpur.

Bad Date #5

New woman at my work place expresses gratitude with numerous physical contacts for helping her get settled in. Confides in me that her boyfriend is a philanderer, that she wants to leave him, but can’t because she’s addicted to his personality. Two weeks later says she’s going to dump boyfriend and that she would like to date me. Asks me to grow a mustache, get contacts, and blow dry my hair because that’s how she likes her men.

Two days after starting the mustache, woman makes up with boyfriend, but wants to be friends with me. Shave mustache. Tape mouth shut for two days to restrain vile remarks. Two weeks later, the woman breaks up with her boyfriend. I agree to be her friend, but prefer to leave it at that. Woman weeps at lunch fearing life of loneliness. Next day I give small present to comfort woman. Same day at lunch confides she trailed boyfriend.

I discreetly pick my jaw up off the floor, realise I’m the same dumbhead I was university, swallow my pride, and continue polite conversation with woman. Go home, bash head against brick wall until numb with pain. Nurse wounds and heave a sigh of relief I’m not married, and not even worried if I ever will be.

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