Worst Date Ever 

Readers' tales of dating woe.

Page 3 of 7

The worst date ever, for a woman I dated, was our first meeting, which was a paddle, in my tandem kayak, to Angel Island for lunch.

Lots of things went wrong, at least from her point of view. But the biggest mistake I made was the choice or route — around Angel Island. The paddle took five hours, and in returning to Sausalito, we had a big headwind and were also fighting an ebbing current.

She was late for an important meeting, which was upsetting, but also apparently hurt her shoulder as well, from the effort. Last time I contacted her she was going for an MRI, with possible surgery to be scheduled.

Yeah, any date that ends with a visit to hospital, especially a first date, has to be on the list of worst dates ever.

P.S. I had a good time, and actually wanted to see her again, but, I blew it.

Danny Forer, San Rafael

Desperately Seeking Sanity

In the fall of 2003, I found myself standing in line dressed in a stylish business suit with hundreds of other job seekers at an employment fair held at the Centennial Hall in Hayward. I was handing out my résumé left and right. I approached a medical resource booth operated by an attractive man. I inquired into a particular position. He said, "I am watching the booth while the boss is on break."

I said, "Did they hire you just to hang around and look good? Or can you give me information?" He smiled. I chatted about recently moving to the East Bay and handed him my résumé. We joked about a dinner and a movie. I moved on in search of employment.

A day later, I received a telephone call from a stranger. It was the man from the booth. He wanted to know if I was available for a date on the weekend. Puzzled, I asked him how he knew my home telephone number. He said he had copied it off my résumé. I thought nothing of it at the time and agreed to a date with him. We decided to meet at Centennial Hall.

As he exited his car, he was limping with a cane. His clothes were a little shabby. I offered to drive us to the Old Spaghetti Factory at Jack London Square. He seemed pleasant at first. At the restaurant, he said how flattered he was that I had complimented him. As we sat down to begin our meals, the madness began.


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