The Worst Date Of My Life

Hey guys! Thank you so much for the warm welcome back to the blog and giving me feedback on what you’d like to see me talk about going forward!

It seems as if the majority of you are rooting for more a lifestyle blog, which is 200% okay with me, as I feel over the last 1-2 years, that’s what it turned into. Your biggest request were more dating stories, followed up by just daily living and the balancing act of nutrition & fitness with life.

I think I can cover that for you guys!

I’m not sure about you, but I know that my favorite types of posts to read from other bloggers are just about their daily life. Aka, I’m the nosiest human being on earth and want to know the innermost details of their life.

To be honest, one of the reasons that I took a step back from blogging was because I wanted to date without having to tell people that, “oh yeah, I have a blog, and if you get sucked into my life, you will be mentioned in some capacity.” This blog is the disclaimer of my life. You have a child? Great, well I have this blog. It just started getting old. Once my disclaimer was made public, I then had to wait to see if they’d text me back after reading my blog. I felt like I had to pass a test. And you know what, now there are zero effs given. The way I talk on my blog is how I talk in person. This blog is me unfiltered; sort of, only because my Mom and aunts read this and I need to protect their precious ears.

Maybe instead of looking at this blog and dating as me trying to pass the test with a guy, it should be me testing the guy. If he can handle the blog, he can handle me.

This is me. In all of my glory. Take it or leave it. But seriously, someone has to take it, because I cannot be a single cat lady for the rest of my life.


So you said you wanted dating stories, well settle in because I have a dating story for you. In fact, it just so happens to be the WORST DATE that I’ve ever been on.

Let’s rewind to April 2016. I’m just a lonely girl, flipping through my matches on eHarmony, when this dark haired gentleman strikes my fancy. We go through the steps required of you by eHarmony, and before you know it, we are sending novel emails back and forth. We make plans for our first date. He comes up to visit me from Boston. We grab coffee, go for a walk, grab dinner, go for a walk. He tells me that he’s looking for a wife and not a girlfriend at this point in his life, and I’m all like, “sign me up!” because homegirl is ready for that stage of her life.

On paper, he is perfect. In person, he seems perfect.

Our first date has ended, and we like each other enough to plan a second date on the following Tuesday night. Homeboy lived in Boston, which for non-locals, is an hour from me. His office was halfway in between that, so since he had to drop something off in the office, he said he could just drive to me. Okay, great! Now this guy was an engineer, so it was my understanding that he worked at a desk, doing all the smart stuff, like drawing and all of that nerdy engineer mumbo jumbo.

Homeboy gets to Manchester around 2:30pm and tells me that he’s going to work until 5 in his truck in a Starbuck’s parking lot. I feel bad, but he brought it upon himself. We decide on dinner plans. I wanted Mexican, he wanted to cook together. Well fine, you win. Now let me just say that I felt completely comfortable with this guy; remember, I already decided that I was going to marry him. Ha. I was wrong. I had no issue with him coming over to my apartment. I felt safe and trusted him. Well around 3:30, he texts me and asks if he can use my shower.

What the what?!

Taken aback, and being the nice girl that I am, I said fine. But this is so wrong on so many levels! Not only was this guy way too comfortable before the 2nd date, but he should have chosen a night where he didn’t need to shower after work, or just have let me go to Boston like I had offered.

Okay so whatever. Dinner was steak, sautéed veggies, and a potato for him. Knowing that my veggies take about 30 minutes to cook, I started to cook them while he showered, thinking that he’d be in and out in 10ish minutes. He could cook the steak and the timing would be perfect.

Well. Life is not always rainbows and butterflies and doesn’t go as planned.

45 minutes later he emerged from my bathroom.

In pajama pants.


But what on earth were you doing in my bathroom for 45 minutes? I’m not even in there for that long!

At this point I’m speechless, with so many f bombs and throat punches circling my mind. Not only that, but he brought an overnight bag and his electric toothbrush. And he mentioned that he really enjoyed using my pumice stone. Absolute gag.

Who is this person and what the eff is my life? What else did you use of mine? Needless to say, I deep cleaned my bathroom and bought all new toiletries the next day.


So he cooks the steak. My veggies are so cold. And then I tell him that he’s not sleeping over, to which he gives me the most confused look ever. He said thought he would just sleep over and leave at 5 when I leave for the gym. Nope, you aren’t. I was firm and unwavering. I’m not even joking, he went back and forth on me on this sleepover topic, and every time, I firmly said no.

I have never wanted someone to leave as badly as I wanted him out. We ate in silence. The only thing discussed was his potato. Haha.

After our silent dinner, he changed and got the hell out of town.

Thankfully I never heard from him again, and I have a feeling that homeboy learned quite the lesson.

Here is my rule on sleepovers. You never have sleepovers unless the other person invites you to spend the night. In advance. If I’m going to sleepover, then I know in advance that I’ll be spending the night.  I’m not the type of girl who will sleepover and then brush my teeth with my finger and toothpaste the next morning. I’m only a smidge classier than that.

Never assume. It’s the #1 way to ruin your chances with someone.

Right after he left, I immediately fired off texts to my best girlfriends.

Never have I ever wanted or needed to punch a wall as badly as I did then. Since no man is worth paying to repair a wall, I think I just went and ate peanut butter out of the jar.

And that, my friends, is the worst date of my life.

And for both the men and women reading this, when someone tells you “no,” you respect them the first time. Also, don’t break out your flannel pajamas until at least the 5th date.

In the comments below, tell me what your worst date was!!!