Bad Date Story: A Sense of Smell

Welcome back to my Singles series on bad date stories. Last week The Hippy Guy made his shining debut (loved it!). This next bad date story examines one of the five senses: our sense of smell. Hope you enjoy!*

*I changed the names to protect the innocent and the other people.

A Sense of Smell

A friend, Sarah (not her real name), recently told me a story about her most awful date which occurred many, many years ago. Now, to start, Sarah excepts some culpability for the details you’re about to read. Thus, this was likely a bad date story on both sides.

Since I’m going to give you the full story, we’ll start at the way, way back.

Sarah, looking amazing, headed out to a New Year’s Eve party with a date. Now, this guy was just someone she invited to the party. They were not dating or in a relationship. Unfortunately, due to a lack of chemistry (the worst, right?), they never began dating.

However, (and here’s where it starts to get interesting), there were other men at the party. AND, a guy approached her and said he had a friend (from Pennsylvania) who had seen her and was interested (kind of grade school, kind of sweet). Sarah and the Pennsylvania guy got connected and met up once. Things seemed okay, so he planned to come all the way to the city.

Unfortunately, on the day of their second date, he didn’t feel that well, but he had planned to brave the hour drive and wanted to stick to his word. The date was on.

The Crab Dip

Sarah and Mr. Pennsylvania met up for a few beers and some crab dip. Afterward, they walked around town trying to find the next place to hang out. Pennsylvania said that he needed to use the bathroom as they were strolling near a strip club.

Here’s where it gets even more interesting. The Strip Club was a client of Sarah’s (that’s all I’m going to say to maintain her identity), so they stopped at the club.

Pennsylvania used the bathroom, and they decided to stay for a drink. About an hour later they sat in a virtually empty club (it was early in the evening), and a horrible smell engulfed Sarah. Her first thought: Was that me?

So to get clarification, she asked Pennsylvania, “Was that me or did you fart?” (I kid you not.)

Now, admittedly, this question likely goes against early date etiquette. (Holy cow, can you even imagine being asked this?) In her defense, Sarah told me that she was young and the smell really hung around. She began to have concerns regarding carbon monoxide poisoning, so she wanted to clear up the origin of the smell (methane poisoning is a thing as well according to Google).

Pennsylvania’s face turned red at her question.

“Yeah, I did. It must have been the crab dip.” (My heart goes out to this man.) “I have to go to the bathroom.”

And, Sarah, God love her, said, “I bet you do.”

(She said it slipped out before she could think about it.)

So poor Mr. Pennsylvania (aka 50 Shades of Crab Dip) went to the bathroom as more and more people began filing into the club.

It Doesn’t End There

What had been happening simultaneously during this bad date story with the crap dip incident, was that Sarah’s friend, Michelle, had been at a clothing swap nearby. Michelle texted Sarah to let her know she picked up some items for Sarah at the swap. Sarah mentioned her location and that she was on a date. Pennsylvania returned to the table (I would’ve been mortified but hopefully he let it roll off his back).

Now for some mysterious reason, Michelle thought it was a good idea to bring the clothes from the swap to Sarah at the strip club. Pretty soon, Michelle stood beside the table carrying a bunch of clothes…

in a garbage bag.

The strippers were now clocking in as Sarah sat with Mr. Crab-Dip-Pennsylvania in a strip club with a garbage bag full of used clothes.

She didn’t hear from him after that night.

Bad Date Story

Here are a few things:

Firstly, be careful about what you eat on dates. Not just because of the methane issue but also messiness can be a factor (for me, for sure). We all want to be ourselves and flatulence is normal, but as illustrated above, it has the potential to create a very awkward and uncomfortable situation in the beginning.

Secondly, the strip club locale really sets this story apart. This is what Rom-Com’s are made of. Maybe not the best place, though is there really a good place for an upset stomach? If I ever write a Romantic-Comedy screenplay, this will be in it.

Thirdly, while we can all have compassion for Mr. Drop-A-Bomb-Crab-Dip-Pennsylvania (and Sarah who was trying despite her fart-shaming), maybe we can extend this compassion for our own dates who try to put their best foot forward. A little grace goes a long way.

Lastly, don’t ever bring me a garbage bag full of used (or new) clothes on a date. I still can’t wrap my head around that.

Okay!

Love you,

K.

Author, Ten Iron Principles