A Reader’s Tale of Dating Woe
By Erin Ann McBride and Juli Hiatt Caldwell, grateful for once it’s not one of us

Every once in awhile a story comes to you, and you realize that because of what you have just read, your life will never be the same. This is one of those sad, tragic, horrifically hilarious tales that makes the rest of the world realize, “Wow, someone really does have a more pathetic dating tale to tell.”

We at A Single Thought are frequently inundated with awful stories where you just have to scratch your head and say, “hmmm ...”, because there really is no logical way to explain such behavior.  With permission we bring you the story of a girl we’ll call Jenny, who let us share this story in her own words, but please remember that we always change our readers names to protect the innocent from further humiliation. There’s always a woman out there who is afraid we’re talking about her, and a man who hopes we’re talking about him. Here is Jenny’s tale:

Where are Curly and Moe?

I met "Larry" at an LDS Singles conference.  He seemed nice and fun, and so I gave him my email address when I left.  Larry emailed me a few times and invited me to a singles’ dance in Salt Lake City.  I attended the dance, but spent most of the evening dancing with other people.  However, Larry and I did end up exchanging cell phone numbers afterwards.

One day Larry called from somewhere in central Utah and said he was "working" but would be driving near my small town that evening.  I agreed to meet him to say hi on his way through. When he arrived at the designated meeting place, he drove up in an old two-door, rusted out, dinged-up Geo Metro.  I'm not one to be impressed or put off by what a man drives, but this car was a definite beater. What caught my attention, though, was the way it looked on the inside.  It was so full of junk I couldn't even see the inside!  The man had carved out a hole in the stuff on the driver’s side, and that's how he operated the vehicle. Amazing!

After exchanging hellos, the first thing he asked me was if he could come to my house and "crash" on my couch for the night.  He was so tired, he explained, and he thought it terribly unnecessary to pay for a hotel room.  "I mean, why pay for something when you don't have to?" was his reasoning.  "Please just let me sleep on your couch tonight …PLEASE?!?!" I didn’t even know the man! I politely said no.

He was incredibly persistent.  So much so that I finally told him to just get a motel room if he was that tired. He had no money, yada, yada ... and being the compassionate (sucker) person that I am, I told him that I would pay for his motel room. I paid for him to stay in a nearby town and returned home.

Larry called quite frequently over the next week (night and day, to be exact.)  I felt he was a tad bit too eager for my tastes, but nevertheless, I agreed to an official date that Friday.  He was from the Salt Lake City area and I was from a small central Utah town, so as a matter of convenience, we agreed to meet in Provo at one of the local malls.

When I arrived at the mall and greeted him, I was horrified!  I had no idea people dared go out in public dressed as he was that day.  He had on a brown striped big-collared shirt, vintage disco, with a yellow/orange/blue long-sleeved shirt underneath.  His pants were three sizes two big and cinched up tight above his waste with a belt.  To top it off, the now too-short pants revealed gray velcro-strapped shoes!  Hiding my embarrassment, I gave him a hello hug anyway, and could smell that he had not showered for at least a few days.  Nice.

At his suggestion, we first went to the movie, the matinee, because it's cheaper to go in the afternoon.  We amazingly agreed on a show to see, then he grabbed my arm and guided me into the theater.  I said to him, "Hey, don't we need to get tickets??"

"No, I already got your ticket. Here." And he handed me a worn out old ticket stub from days gone by.  It even had someone's phone number written on one side of it.  I looked at him incredulously.  "This is my ticket?  You're joking, right?"

He grinned and said, "No, just hold it up like this, and flash it really quick at the ticket taker. They never pay attention and we'll get right in."

Sure, why not? Cheap, dishonest, what’s the difference?

I stopped dead in my tracks.  "You are trying to sneak me into a movie?"

"Aw c'mon," he said, "I do it all the time.  Just walk past her quickly and she'll never notice." I refused. I told him that I was going back to buy my ticket.  He shook his head and followed me back to the ticket booth.

We returned and gave the ticket taker our real tickets this time.  It was then that I noticed Larry carrying a plastic grocery bag. I could see what looked like one drink and a small bag of popcorn. Unfortunately for Larry, the ticket lady also noticed his, and she refused to let him take it inside, despite his many loud protests. Finally he gave up and set the bag to the side.

We walked into the theater and found seats. He left to try and sneak his bag away from that ‘rotten ticket lady.’ Luckily he came back empty-handed. He was quite disappointed though, because he had purchased a Hostess blueberry pie and had saved half of it for me! "It was really good," he assured me. How thoughtful!

The movie finished and instead of walking to the exit, he steered me toward another theater. He was trying to sneak me into another movie! I protested and he replied, "Hey, it's not like there are any movie police around. I do this all the time."

Really?  No kidding!

Next, he wanted to do dinner.  He suggested the food court because, according to him, "there's some really good food up there!" I suggested one of the nicer restaurants, just to be ornery. After our hostess seated us, Larry began to complain. There was a light shining in his eye and it was bothering him.  He called a waitress over and demanded that the lights be turned off. After complaining to several waitresses, the manager came over and suggested that we move to a different seat. He moved around to the other side of the table, but this still did not make him happy. He stood on his chair and reached up to the light above his head. He yanked the light bulb out and since it was hot, he lost his grip and it dropped to the ground. Of course it shattered into sharp, tiny, flying shrapnel.

The waitresses and I exchanged looks. They felt sorry for me.  I felt sorry for me! 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Larry grab a bottle of seasoned salt and sneak it under the table. He dropped it into his plastic bag (oh yes, he made sure he retrieved it when we left the theater) and then asked a nearby waitress to hand him a seasoned salt from the next table because "we don't have one."

I managed to make it through dinner, but I ate only a small portion of my meal. I had managed to lose my appetite. That was okay, because when Larry finished his meal, he ate the rest of mine too! I'm sure he was thinking of all those starving children in Africa.

As we got up to leave, he casually mentioned to me that he doesn't tip the waitresses. "I don't think I have to pay for their retirement!" he informed me. To clarify what he just said, I asked, "You really don't leave a tip at all?"

"No, well … if they are really good, I might leave a dime or a nickel, but most of the time I don't tip." I don't think our waitress even minded the missing tip. They were just glad to see us go. The next item on the agenda was a free concert at the UVSC Institute. When we walked out to the parking lot where both of our vehicles were parked, Larry said, "My car gets really good gas mileage, but you probably don't like riding in small cars. Can we take your vehicle instead?"  Guess he realized it might take him awhile to hollow out a place for me in the front seat. Ever the gentleman, he walked me to the driver's side of my truck and opened the door for me. That act of kindness, however, was overshadowed by the loud sound of him passing gas as he reached to grab the door handle. No “oops,” no “excuse me,” no apologies, nothing. No lie!

During the ride back to the mall parking lot after the concert, Larry tried to convince me to go with him to a free church dance he had heard about. When we reached his car, I didn't even put my truck in park. I politely thanked him for the evening and sped off before he had a chance to shut the passenger door.  He called my cell phone the next morning, but I was conveniently in the shower.  And thankfully, I heard nothing for quite awhile. I wasn't complaining, mind you, but I fully expected to have to tell him to get lost when he called next.  A week later I received an email from Larry: "Hi. How are you doing? You left rather quickly after our date the other night. I lost your phone number. Can you please email it to me? Thanks, Larry."

Email? What email?  Delete! Sadly, the story doesn't end here.  As an LDS single in a small town, my dating options are limited (this was my excuse for going out with Larry in the first place).  I tried out all the LDS singles websites and I found Larry there also. Sometimes he was 40 years old living in Salt Lake, other times he was 45 years old living in Provo. I personally think he is 50 years old, living in his car.

Yes, folks, there you have it.  Does it get any worse than that?  We dare you to try and top Jenny’s story.  Your worst dating stories will bring tears of laughter and joy to your fellow Single Thought readers!  Please send them all to erinandjuli@meridianmagazine.com.

As a postscript, Jenny reports she didn't hear from Larry until two months later, when she received another email: "Hi Jenny. How are you doing? I went to your town the other day to try and find you, but nobody knew where you lived. Can you give me your phone number again so I can call you? And tell me how you are doing. Thanks, Larry."  Stalking now, huh, Larry? He got an email back, all right, and she’s fairly sure her reply may have blown out his hard drive.

Your Thoughts

A bishop in Mesa, Arizona, has requested your help.  He is looking for ideas for dating on a budget.  If you have any great ways to have a blast while saving some cash, send it in! 

Krista wrote with advice for Belinda, a 47-year-old single lady who was looking for places to meet other singles.  She said, “I have heard of quite a few older singles activities and such occurring at Thanksgiving Point, at the ‘Point of the Mountain’ in Utah.  But other than that, I would just say to stay in the group of 31-45 if she is only 47.  Two years isn't such a big deal.  I know plenty of 31 year-olds that are still in the 18-30 group because they don't feel ready to jump up to the next age group.  Another piece of advice is to have fun and be happy in your own family ward!  This advice comes to me all the time from a friend who never set foot in a singles ward or attended any singles activities.  She trusted in the Lord that He would show her the opportunity for a wonderful husband.  And sure enough, her future husband moved into her family ward, they dated, then married.  Good luck to you, Belinda!”

Debbie said, “I totally agree with the ‘Have a Plan’ column. Sister Harold B. Lee spoke to our sorority in college (she married the prophet at the age of 68 — her first marriage! — we still have time! She told us to live our lives, don't sit on the shelf waiting for Prince Charming to ride by and sweep us off our feet. Some of us might be sitting on the shelf for a long time, and then suddenly realize we could have been living our lives while waiting — and it would be too late! I'm very grateful I heard that advice when I was 20, because I would have missed out on some fabulous experiences had I sat on the shelf!”

Shizue in Tokyo wrote, “Thank you for your last comment, "Seize the day!  Make some memories!  Learn to laugh!  Have some fun!  Go out and start [attempting] to live out some of your dreams!"  (John K. Carmack also said the same thing in ‘To My Single Friends,’ Ensign, Mar. 1989.)

“Due to my physical handicap, I may have to give up marriage in this life. My grandmother used to tell me to be prepared to live by my own, for there may be no one to marry me (because of my handicap).  Even if she is not a member of the Church, I think she was inspired, because looks like it becomes real.  I'm asking my home teachers and bishop for help to find someone to marry, trying to attend marriage conferences etc, but everything falls through mostly because of schedule conflict due to church callings.  [Shizue is very active in her ward, holding four separate callings.]  Every time [an] interesting marriage conference is held, there is always something I CANNOT SKIP.  This may be a sign to learn to live without regret instead of finding someone.
Thank goodness, I have a dream of becoming a translator; I can live out my dream!”  We hope so, Shizue!  She has a webpage where she has translated several Ensign and Meridian Magazine articles just for the practice, and we must admit, it’s very cool to see some of our articles in Japanese!

Conferences, Etc …

Depending on where you live in the States, you can find central locations for singles’ activities.  Utah, of course, is the obvious first place to look.  There are also huge singles populations in Washington, D.C., and Huntington Beach, California.  If you can afford to travel to a singles’ conference in either location, you might meet some interesting people!  If any conference planners want to send us information on upcoming events, we’ll gladly let our readers know about them! 

We also frequently hear from Australia, New Zealand, and the UK, among other places around the globe.  If any of our readers over the puddle (either one) would like to share where they meet singles outside the States, pass it on to us and we’ll share your brilliance and wisdom with your fellow singletons!

We leave you with the words of the Belle of Amherst, American poet Emily Dickinson, who wrote, “Love is anterior to life, Posterior to death, Initial of creation, and the exponent of breath.”

Thanks, and have a great week!

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