Thursday, October 22, 2009
#12 Worst Date Competitions
Our aversion to sweating and participating in sports causes us to engage in a competition of the unconventional sort: the worst date competition.
We've all had a bad date. To survive an exceptionally horrific one, we wear it as a badge of honor. Worst date stories are our war stories. After all, we're braving the wild and treacherous (in more ways than one) singles scene in our respective urban jungles. Love IS a battlefield.
Sharing stories about our dates usually occurs during Sunday brunch. (Single girls really like Sunday brunch). At this reunion of sorts, there is at least one girl who has just been on a bad date that weekend. This generally escalates into a deliberation of similar bad dates and even more abominable ones. Before we know it, our Sunday brunch has become a "worst date ever" showcase.
Sometimes some of us sit through what we know is already a terrible date, not because you are paying for the meal, but because you are providing us with fodder for our next worst date competition.
My worst date story involves a questionably operated pick-up truck and a potential head-on collision with another vehicle on a Los Angeles freeway. I can honestly say that I almost died on a date. I was able to arrive at this punch line only after hearing my date talk about how he taught himself to surf, his experiences with drugs in Malaysia, his illegal escape from Cuba, and his tequila-infested week in Mexico. I think I deserve a medal.
So why do we exploit bad date stories? Because this is our form of amusement on Sundays when guys are watching football and grunting at a television. Because this support group is cheaper than therapy (and God knows we need professional help after those worst dates). Because we are evil bitches who feel better about ourselves after putting guys down. Because this is our way of reminding ourselves: it's not us, it's THEM.
Now please finish reading this blog entry, turn off your cell phone, and return to your date.