Candy Rant

"I killed a rat with a stick once."

Thursday, October 19, 2006

Really Hideous Moments in the History of Dating

Now that we've all admitted, here at the Candy Rant Halfway House, whom we were desperately in love with as smitten and lobotomized teens, I think it's time we cleansed our souls further.

Tell me, what kind of unforgettably bad moments have you experienced in the dating world? I have so many I don't know where to begin. So I'll go with an old favorite:

In college, when I was 19, I was lounging on a couch with my first uber serious boyfriend, Rob. We were talking about impossibly deep subjects and listening to a 45 of Justin Hayward singing "Forever Autumn" over and over and over. I had on a soft, fuzzy, dark green sweater and felt like the hottest babe on campus. Or at least in that particular dorm room. We had safeguarded our alone time by bribing Rob's obese and surly roommate Brett. For a jumbo bag of Taco Flavored Doritos, Brett would take his sagging ass and go downstairs to watch TV in the dorm lounge for a few hours.

Rob, the perfect mannequin boy, 6'4", blond, blue eyes, and who finally bored me senseless a few months down the road, was targeting the green sweatered chick for romance. Rob also had a really, really bad cold. He was sniffling and snotting and was one of those guys who would not blow his fool nose. He chose instead to sniff and snort and make that liquidy, annoying sound that makes you want to take a ball bat and make of their head a snot pinata. Maybe blowing his nose would have turned him into some kind of pansy in his own eyes. Or maybe emptying your nose holes in front of someone had been deemed uncouth in his remote part of northern Indiana. Whatever the reason, he had one big-ass head full of snot.

Enter: the peak moment of romance. All cuddled up together and deep into our steamy undergrad love for one another, our moment was molding itself into a magic one. I was on my back. Rob slowly leaned over me to kiss me. He must have felt it coming on, this thing that was about to happen. This thing that would stick with me for all time. Just as he was about to kiss me, he slowly turned his head to the right, to take another juicy sniff. But not in time. And I was watching him. Which made my fate much worse when a giant ball of snot, a perfectly formed sphere of mucus, dropped directly into my wide open left eye.

The horror that I felt at that moment was somewhere between finding out I have lice, and having a hot poker rammed up my sphincter. I could not move, could not scream. For 10 seconds I was as immobile as a family dog in a yard at Pompeii, preserved in lava, mid-yip.

I was not the woman I am now. I was too embarrassed for myself and for him to provide even the slightest hint to Rob that he had mercilessly snot-douched my retina and made me want to projectile vomit and dance a foot-stomping Jed Clampitt jig at the same time. I calmly got up from the couch, said I had something in my contact (which didn't exist) and coolly walked down the hall, to the stairwell, all the way down four flights of stairs to the women's bathroom, all the while looking as though I had lost my monicle.

Once safely behind the locked bathroom door, I shot enough water into that gel-filled eye to dilute 600 gallons of sulfuric acid into a harmless summer drink.

So, Rob, if you're out there, what I really wanted to do was heave your too-tall lanky ass off the couch, wipe my dripping eye onto your cherished high school letter jacket, and, while making for the door, bitchslap you while screaming about your senseless fear of blowing your sopping honker into a friggin' kleenex, you socially crippled dillweed.

But I didn't. I am left only with my memory. And every time I hear the Moody Blues, my eye fills with tears. Just the left one.

15 Comments:

  • At 9:04 AM, Anonymous Tony from the Bronx said…

    Ah, young love! I’m still seeing Dr. Futterman about my teeno experiences and he keep saying “You’ll be OK…Nothing really wrong with you…it’s all in your mind.”

    Yeah, sure. Kiddies, I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
    Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, thy knotted and combined locks to part and each particular hair to stand on end, like quills upon the fretful porpentine. Yup—just that bad.

    I can’t go into details since this is a Family Blog, but April G--if there were any justice in this world--but I can’t go on. I’m not a well man. Do any of you out there know of a really good shrink in the Bronx? Not Doc Futterman—he’s had his chance.
    Tony from the Bronx

     
  • At 10:08 AM, Blogger Carin said…

    Gross. Ok, thinking... but I definitely had nothing to compare to that.

     
  • At 10:52 AM, Anonymous Scott P said…

    ...as immobile as a family dog in a yard at Pompeii, preserved in lava, mid-yip...

    HA!!!! Indelibly etched in my mind, forever.

     
  • At 12:07 PM, Blogger Candy Rant said…

    Poor Tony. The reason Doc Futterman can't bring you into the light is his own past with April. It may make you feel better to know that after she devastated you, she understood her crime and became a little-known C-movie star named Skankley O'Floozy. Futterman met her on the set of her last movie, "Hussy on Board."

     
  • At 12:08 PM, Blogger Candy Rant said…

    Carin, 'fess up. Just because nobody dripped a snot globule in your eye doesn't mean you ain't got somethin' good to tell.

    Scott - Yip! Y-

     
  • At 12:39 PM, Anonymous SA said…

    candy--

    a story i know you will appreciate being from my neck of woods-ish . . .

    in college, during a breakup with my now hubby, a friend set me up with her brother. i don't remember his name so let's call him zebediah. it seems appropriate. (cue Deliverance soundtrack)

    anyway, ol' zeb was going to meet some friends and me (his sister included) at a campsite in the woods where we would engage in some downhome underage drinkin'. zeb, the high roller gentlemanly-type he was, shows up with a real fancy bottle of Boone's to get us real liquered up. not to mention his sexy garth brooks inspired western wear. wow! hot stuff!! (can you hear me retching??)

    to make a long story short, zeb gets himself real lit and makes an ass of himself, stumblin' around the campfire, throwing rocks, slingin' his feces. oh, wait those are monkeys at the zoo. way smarter than zeb. when he realizes that i am just too awestruck by his super classiness to actually shove my tongue down his throat, he hits on my hippie friend. eventually, he drives away in his beat up ford, complete with gun rack and full rear-window decal of an injun on mountain-top watchin' eagles fly through the blue skies, spraying gravel in embarrassment. oh, i mean anger. too manly to be embarrassed.

    wow. can't believe i let that one get away.

     
  • At 1:17 PM, Anonymous EB said…

    You asked for it. . .

    Here are my guys:
    - Crying on the first date (for five flippin' hours) guy
    - "Touch the tip. You know you want to." cello player guy
    - I'm a hairy ape and taking my shirt off mid-movie and trying to cuddle with you IN JULY is my move guy
    - "You're too tall, too smart, and too beautiful for me to ever be comfortable with you" guy (a.k.a. teeny weeny peeny guy)

    And those are all first dates. Do you really want to get into the long-term relationships?

     
  • At 3:56 PM, Blogger Candy Rant said…

    SA. You are dumb.

     
  • At 3:58 PM, Blogger Candy Rant said…

    And here is WHY. You played hard to get TOO dang long! You let him get outta yer lusty grasp. Good gawd, gurl, Garth Brooks clothes AND Boone's Farm? If is was Boone's Farm Tickled Pink, you lost DOUBLE.
    I will now weep for you.

     
  • At 4:00 PM, Blogger Candy Rant said…

    EB, you should set SA up with that cryin' dude. Because she, to this day, is sobbing over her campfire dating miscue.

    You survived all those pig-dog wusses, EB, to get the good guy you have today. Who is great, even if he IS is prison. For murder. Serial murder. Who cares? He writes good letters.

     
  • At 1:20 PM, Anonymous chubbyknuckles said…

    As I read the latest of Candy Rant's life snippets, I was enjoying a sweet Fuji apple and a handful of cashews--a tasty, tasty sweet and salty treat if ever there was one.

    I now have bits of sweet Fuji apple and cashews imbedded in my sinuses and most likely in my bronchioles as well.

    Thanks, Candy.

     
  • At 1:39 PM, Anonymous chubbyknuckles said…

    Dating travesties. Oh, god.

    There was the guy I thought was SO cool all during jr. high and the first two years of high school. He ignored me all through jr. high and the first two years of high school...until I announced to my friends that I no longer thought he was all that cool. They, of course, blabbed this tidbit all over school, and suddenly his interest in me soared.

    Two months later he asked me out. At the end of the date, we were sitting on the studio couch on my parents' back porch, right beside the back door. On the other side of the wall, my parents were in the living room watching Gunsmoke on the new console TV. "Dream-boy date" made it clear that heavy petting and more were on the agenda for the night. I told him I just could not do that. His assumption was that I had not "properly prepared" myself with appropriate birth control, and he suggested that we retire to the floor of the back porch with a number...let me think...what WAS that number? Was it 67? 68? 70? Hmm. Just can't seem to remember.

    Anyway, at that point, I made it clear that the evening's date had turned into merely a passing fad for me--something to do on a Saturday night and nothing more. Would he please leave now?

    He pestered me for two months afterward for another date. I guess he was pretty desperate (read: horny) for those two months.

     
  • At 6:02 PM, Blogger Candy Rant said…

    Chubby Knuckles...HOW could you have resisted such a magnetic animal ESPECIALLY with "Gunsmoke" on in the background? Even if you didn't dig the guy on the porch so much, couldn't you have closed your eyes and thought of Festus?

    I am so proud of you for booting his arrogant boo-tay off the porch like the mangy hound he was.

     
  • At 7:14 PM, Blogger Miss Behavin said…

    OMG... I know I'm 5 months behind the times but I just found this... I was laugh-out-loud dying reading this... I had one of those "drippers" around once, for a very short while. I feel much better knowing I'm not the only one who has to deal with a** clowns in the dating world... thanks for the great laugh!

     
  • At 7:31 PM, Blogger Candy Rant said…

    Miss Behavin,

    Nope, you ain't alone in the assclown dating world. That nearly turned me into a cave dwelling hermit.

     

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