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WINNER: ANTI-VALENTINE'S DAY CONTEST - Lilith's Slimey Dating Disaster

I call him "Eel Man." One of the slimiest dates I ever had. That was in my pre-bitch-enlightenment days.

I met him online through Craigslist, a place I frequented after my husband died and I discovered all the affairs and other betrayals. Eel Man seemed wonderful - good convo, decent looks (though it was a bit hard to tell under that baseball cap). Into health, outdoors, fitness, spirituality. Intelligent computer guy, balanced by evenings out at the shoreline here in the San Francisco Bay Area. We spoke by phone a few times, long conversations that melted into the night. Nothing sexual, he was a gentleman of the old school, with a comforting voice. He was single and available. And he checked in often to see how I was. He seemed to communicate well. How rare.

We set up a first date to go to the San Francisco 49ers opening game and have dinner. I was so stoked! A guy who wanted to take me, a sports fanatic, to a real game! But my car broke down and I couldn't meet him at our pre-arranged place. He didn't want to drive the 35 miles to pick me up, and 35 back to drop me off, because the game was already 50 miles away. He didn't want to put 200 miles on his car.

The kicker was the food: His idea of dinner was to share a can of eel on the way there. You said WHAT? I should have recognized the sign of incompatibility and creepiness, but I just wanted to be out with a guy.

OK, it felt cheap -- how much did he really want to get together? -- but we rescheduled for the following Friday night. He asked if I wanted to go to a free-form dance event at a modern dance studio in Berkeley, California. Wow, one of my other fave things to do! I leapt at the chance to dance. I could mesmerize a guy with my moves.

We agreed to meet at a local BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) station, and we'd go in his car from there. He told me to dress really informally, but I wanted to look sexy and attractive, so I dressed in loose dance pants and a super sexy tight sparkly top. He called right before arriving. I thought wow, this guy is SO considerate!

He pulled up - a ratty old car that looked well-used. OK, let's not judge, Lilith ... stay open. He got out of the car. He looked ratty, old, well-used. I felt overdressed and overwhelmed. He wasn't anywhere near as nice looking as his picture; to be honest he was downright creepy. I went over to shake his hand and it was clammy. We talked for a few minutes, he asked if I felt safe going with him, and I lied and said yes. I got into his filthy, messy car and wished I hadn't, but I never said no. I didn't have the power in those days to honor my gut instincts. He talked nonstop, never asking me about myself. He hadn't gone to the 49ers game even though the tickets had been given to him. He told me weird stuff, like he took 100 supplements a day and always listened to self-improvement tapes while hiking in nature. He seemed the antithesis of our earlier emails and conversations. I felt so much more worthy than this guy, but I was desperate. I went along.

We got on the freeway and he began to drive so recklessly, I was white-knuckled. He asked if his driving bothered me and I said no. I could not find my voice. I just wanted to be on a date SO badly. He wasn't going to pay the $8 for me, so I had to bring my money. Actually I asked if I could leave my purse in his car, so I didn't even have my cell with me. I was afraid it would get stolen. We went onto the dance floor, having arrived early, and the music was wonderful. The first hour was a kind of warmup, so I went into my own space and just did what I wanted. I was aware of him all the time though, wanting to be close to me. I just wanted to run.

Then the heavier music started. At this weekly event everyone dances with everyone else and does their own thing. Some couples writhe together, some people hook up for later, and others just come to dance. Soon Eel Man came over and reached out his hands to take mine, and I automatically, instinctively, pulled away. I did NOT want him to touch me. He was taken aback, and I realized I had made a grave error of misjudgment. I suddenly woke from my trance.

Shortly after that I saw him hooking up with another woman and leaving the premises. I had left my purse in his car! Stupid girl! Fortunately, I found them out in the foyer sitting and chatting. I went over and the woman immediately said she wasn't going home with him, and I said I didn't care, I just wanted to get my purse and leave. She kept apologizing but I truly didn't care.

Eel Man went out to the car with me to get my purse, but made no effort to help me find transportation. He actually asked if I'd like to go out again, and for the only time that evening I was powerful and honest -- my true bitch self -- and said, "You must be joking!" Public transit was at least a mile away and it was pitch black in that industrial section of town. I was at least an hour away from the closest BART train. I was two hours from home and it was late Friday night.

And so I walked. I have a fairly unerring sense of direction, so I just walked. alert. I was so angry at myself. The signs had been there, and I was too scared to NOT have a date to heed them. I acted like this was the last guy on earth who would ever ask me out. I acted like I owed him something. I finally got to the bus stop and when the doors opened, I told the woman driver that I had walked away from a bad date and I didn't have the proper change. (I didn't.) She let me on for free, sympathetized, and dropped me right at the BART station.

I waited 15 minutes for my train, the platform filled with well-dressed patrons of a nearby theater event. I was so relieved and happy to be safe in my seat. An elderly woman came and sat next to me.

She says, "I heard you tell the bus driver that you'd had a bad date. My husband died four years ago, I'm 73 now, and I'd like to start dating again. Any advice?"

I laughed at the impossibility of this question. I should have told her to be a Heartless Bitch.

Copyright© Heartless Bitches International (heartless-bitches.com) 2009, All Rights Reserved


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