The dating world has its ups and downs, but for some Nobles students, these true-story dates from Lucas Ilzarbe, Lauren Velasco-O’Donovan, and one student who declined to be named, are the lowest it has gotten.
#3: The Nickname
The dinner takes place at a nice restaurant, and it seems like everything has gone right. Everything is going right–the conversation is flowing and the date has potential. The guy looks normal, even sweet. It’s all going smoothly until you rise to go to the bathroom. With a polite excuse, you head to the back of the restaurant. A couple of minutes later, as you’re walking back to the table, you spot his face. He seems eager, though not in a bad way. You should have realized that he was too eager. It hits you with the shocking phrase he emits when you step into his line of sight:
“I’m so glad you’re back, my banana love muffin!”
You’d barely gotten to know him and he’d already plastered a horrendous nickname on you. Banana? Love muffin? Was it something his mother told him so he’d get bullied? He kept smiling, acting like he hadn’t just said the most outrageous combination of words you’d ever heard on a date. What would he come up with next? What if it’s worse? Can it get worse?
You leave the date, a smile masking your alarm, and, like this anonymous Nobles student, never look back.
#2: The Stalker(s)
Bitmojis are the scariest cartoon characters. Dressed in trendy clothes or event-themed costumes, one asking you to “meet up” might be someone’s uncle in disguise, and you only find out when you’re in person, and in too deep. You do not want to be in too deep. You do not want to be Lucas Ilzarbe.
Meeting up at the mall’s Panera, you first realize the girl you’re meeting has brought company. There are five of them, all shorter than 5 feet 5 inches, cramped discreetly into the small booth right across from you.
Your date explains that she’d just brought her friends to ensure everything was okay, so you brush it off–that is, until the second sighting at the GAP. A row of blue-black clothing lines the far wall of the store, and rummaging through the array, you alternate between jacket, blazer, cardigan, two pairs of eyes, coat, more eyes (they were hiding behind the rack) until you turn around and they scatter. “Did you see that?” you ask. “Haha, no?” your date answers. You hesitantly move on, but you hear a horde of footsteps behind you as you both step out of the store. You don’t want to look back.
A fake phone call and a couple of minutes later, you’ve escaped into your mom’s car, and you Snap your date, telling her it was weird how her friends had followed you. “Haha, yeah,” she says.
You try not to blame her–you could have been an axe murderer, for all she knew–but months later, when you’re in a crowd, you still find yourself looking for those cold, unblinking eyes. Once, in Boston, you think you see her again, and text her later asking her to confirm; she says, “Haha, yeah.” There would be no second date.
#1: The Axe Murderer
It’s a nice first date that starts with a movie showing at a local theatre. The date involves sitting side-by-side watching a screen, mostly in silence. It’s dark. The display is the only light you have, and it flickers as actors flit in and out of the scene. The movie is decent, so you’re not worried. When it ends, you’re dazed with post-cinema fatigue, but it’s on your walk toward his car that you really start communicating with your date. Introductions are spilled, and you get to know more about his hobbies. You both step into his car and you sit down once more in the dark. You learn that he likes to chop wood. You shouldn’t have asked further, but you do. The doors lock; he’s turning on the engine. He answers that he’s chopped wood with his axe at home and that in fact, the axe is here with him right now. Your blood turns to ice. There is no light to tell if he’s joking. His face is shrouded. You hear, out of the darkness, the dreaded words:
“Look under your seat.”
He is driving; he is still talking. “I also have a shotgun in the trunk,” he says, and then catches your pale, terrified expression, and turns guilty. “Oh, it’s not like I shoot animals or anything! Just targets,” he quickly explains. Why would he say that? If he doesn’t shoot animals, then what–who–were his “targets?” After he drops you off, you spill your fears into texts; he apologizes. Somehow, for Lauren Velasco, there was a second date.
In summary: don’t overcompliment too early; don’t have your dates tailed (or if you do, not obviously); and don’t bring murder weapons to the (first) date.
