And you’ll never believe what she did next

09/16/2011 04:38 pm by mattp

finder

At some point in your life, someone may have told you that the worst mistakes are the best learning experiences. This may be true, but in my opinion, it misses the most important point: The worst mistakes make the best stories. And there is nowhere, nowhere about which that is truer than sex.

Maybe it’s good old schadenfreude. Maybe the consequences sting a little less when we know that even the most smart and dignified of our number has been known to revert to their primitive ape brain when there’s tail on the line; or that we organize so much of our lives around romance and sex that the bad times help throw the rest into perspective.

Whatever the reason, there is almost nothing as entertaining—at least in retrospect—as a bad date. Except, maybe, a cataclysmically bad date. Or five.

Five Crazy Women—the final story of Finder Library Vol. 2.—takes that truism and rides it for all it’s worth, as Jaeger runs through a veritable gauntlet of crazy—his own included—in the name of getting laid. The whole thing is smart, slyly hilarious, and raunchy as hell: it’s as if cartoonist Carla Speed McNeil took a long look at the thin line between uncomfortable and uproarious and decided it would make a mighty fine jump rope.

Now, here’s where you come in:

In the comments section below, tell us your best crazy-date story. It
doesn’t have to be true—after all, who’s gonna know?—but it’s got to
be entertaining. Our favorite entry (1) will be hooked up with a signed copy
of Finder Library Vol. 2 including a sketch within the book by Carla.

Note from Carla: My amazing editor came up with this contest. I’ll draw
a scene or the punch line of the winning entry on the inside cover of Library Vol. 2. Bring ‘em on!

A FEW GROUND RULES:

1. Grownups only, obviously. That goes for stories as well as writers.

2. No outing anyone: Change or omit names, locations, or identifying
circumstantial details.

3. Keep it clean(ish): This is not a porn contest. PG-13, and we reserve the
right to bowdlerize as necessary, natch.

4. There’s a difference between so-awful-it’s-funny and just-plain-awful. If
you have trouble discerning that difference, this contest is not for you.

5. Winner will be drawn 10/21/11.

BOXESOFCOMICS

One Thanksgiving, I was invited to dinner by a co-worker. (Who happens to be a comic fan as well) The intention of this was to have me meet his wife’s single co-worker. The ladies arrived and I introduced myself. Moments later, she exscused herself to vomit in the bathroom for about an hour. After this, she told everyone sorry and goodnight. Her name was never mentioned again by my co-worker and I don’t date anymore. This way I have more cash for comics, especially my favorite publisher…Dark Horse!
PIERIDES

On a first date, dead of winter Chicago outside the Music Box Theater, I was trying (fumblingly) to unlock my car with mittens on. I dropped my keys, which landed on a sewer grate and as I bent over to pick them, I watched as the weight of the ones hanging through the open began to pull the whole ring over, like a bunch of climbers, roped together, plummeting off a cliff face.
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=691065108 Matt Johnson

I was set up with a blind date with this one girl once, so my friend decided to set me up with a friend of theirs and said to go to the mall at 3 PM, so I was getting all ready when the friend said that she’s going to need a ride so I said I’ll pick her up thinking that it would be a perfect time to get to know her better. So I’m driving and I get held up by a train that took 15 minutes to go through and I looked at my watch realizing that I have 10 minutes to pick her up, so I’m looking through the neighborhood for the address of 906 Main Street, I think I found it, it was this huge old victorian house, I walk up with a rose in my hand and knocked. Only to my surprise that an elderly woman answered the door. I asked is Ashley Jane there? She said “Thats me”. I suddenly thought what kind of joke is this? So I took out my cell phone and said “Dude I’m at the house” and before I could finish my sentence my friend responded “I know, she’s hot right, I mean i didn’t know she was your type” I quickly responded” What? A 96 year old woman? You have some explaining to do” and then he quickly defended himself saying” Woah woah woah what are you talking about?” I said “I’m here at 906 Main Street and a sickly old woman answered my door” My friend said “You dumbass you got the numbers backwards its 609 Main Street”. I said in a embarrassed tone “Oh…..umm……got to go bye” then I looked back at the woman with a nervous tone saying “Sorry….umm…ma’am… but” but before I could finish my sentence the woman sends out her dog and I looked down laughing it was a little chihuahua and it started grabbing at my good pair of pants grabbing hold and not letting go as if it was food. By the time I got to my car my pants were shredded, the old woman was cursing at me and I was 5 minutes late. So I decided to still continue driving hoping she will forgive me and I reach her house looking ragged and knocked on the door and there she was, 5’11, dark brown hair, hazel eyes, had a little meat on her bones size and she smiled and said “You must be Matthew, hi” I nervously said “Hi” back and gave her a rose and she smile and asked “what happened?” I said “I’ll explain when we go have dinner” So the evening went well saw a nice movie, looked around the store and finally sat in a nice quiet restaurant and I told her everything and all she did was laugh and said “boy you had a hell of a day” I laughed and said “boy this fish is tasty” and as I tried cutting into it, it flew off my plate and onto hers and she said “no thanks I’m full”. We both chuckled and realized it was getting late so I took her home and said “I had a wonderful time” and she said ” I did too” . Then she looked out the car window and said “Oh look its my grandma, you know she dont live that far” She got out and took the grandma back towards my car to introduce me, and I looked at her and realized she’s the same woman that had her dog chase me out. Well, that was the end of that date and never heard from her again.
http://www.facebook.com/dr.lollylimmer Lolly Limmer

I went on a blind date set up by my incredibly territorial father with one of his coworkers, seems he won’t agree to anyone dating his little girl unless he has a 9-5 relationship with them. We went to my favorite sushi place where I sat as he told me all about how he loves to smoke and drink, hates cats, and is glad Asia can at least do food right if nothing else, all while texting on his cell rather than look at me. So what about you? Hmm… well I’m a straight edge, I’m currently in my 8th year of Japanese language classes, applying to veterinary school, and avoid excess technology at all costs.

He asked me on a second date.
sunshinemagic

I had just met him…we talked for some time. decided to have dinner Friday night, I told him i would meet him there. i Googled the directions and was a few minutes early. he was dressed pretty nice. he was actually handsome. a bit different that the other day. he was already there, greeted me with a gentle hug and escorted me in and sat me at a very nice table he had already chosen before i got there. as we sat down, he told me….i’m sorry, this is a little embarrassing, but i have to take several water pills for the next 2 days, and i’m having a test done on Monday. I smiled and said no worries. And indeed, he was up and down A LOT through dinner. but everything was great…the food, company and conversation. we were just about finished and he said…wanna go to a movie…or a walk…window shopping? it was still kinda early…he said, think about it, ill be right back, smiled, and ran towards the bathroom…for what seems like the 200th time. I thought about what would be nice, and yet safe, after all, i did just meet him and really didn’t know much about him. and i never will….he ditched me and left me with the bill….and no, i did not have enough money. i had to leave them my drivers license and go home, get money, go back and pay for it all. On my way to work Monday…still madder than all get out…..i was in a fender bender, and to top it the car that hit me was also hit ….. yep. the guy that ditched me, hit me…and couldn’t go any where. I pined him against his car, took his wallet out of his pants…..and took his money….even a tip.
FunnyFirsts

He was Tall Fair and Handsome, crushed on him for a full year,
finally rewarded one night with wine coolers, another woman friend, and hours
of giggles. He started to warm up after seeing our girl on girl foreplay, and we
approached him with lust filled eyes. The secret fact that I was really a
virgin probably came out when I discovered that I had no idea how to give head… I tried to rapidly licked his tip and very, very gently nibbled the sides… in which
case his already thin manhood shrank to the size of my thumb and he retreated
under a blanket to cower. Perhaps more communication and less guesswork would
have made him join in and be a nice-sweet-three. Frustrated after a year of
waiting and no polite way to relieve my female hard on, I took my lady friend
home, wooed her with candle light and explored the meaning of repressed
frustration-!
http://www.facebook.com/Terrier91 Andy Brown

It was my second date with this girl, we planned to meet up with her best friend and her husband at a local Mexican restaurant (local for them, in a college town a little over an hour away from where I lived) and then hit a movie. Cliche’, I know, but such is life. At the restaurant, conversation is flowing, though I’m a bit on the outside as the three of them knew each other so well. At one point the girls started discussing college and their sorority. Having gone to a small school with no Greek presence, I asked which sorority they belonged to, knowing that I wouldn’t recognize it if they told me. They told me which house and then continued their conversation, yet my wheels started turning. Something about the name that they told me sounded familiar, then it hit me that they were approximately my age and at the college my previous girlfriend went to. Always being one to speak when I shouldn’t, I asked if they knew my “friend from high school”. It was at that point that I learned that my ex girlfriend dated women exclusively in college. Nothing wrong with that, just a surprise.

Later, in the car on the way to the theater, the girl asked how I knew what sorority my high school friend was in and I was forced to come clean. Then the really awkward part happened. She looked into her purse and informed me “Oh no, I don’t have my epi-pen with me.” Now at this point I had two acceptable options. I could remain silent, or admit that I didn’t know what an epi-pen was. But being me, I draw my own conclusion as to what she’s talking about. The only thing that I can think is that there are tons of forms of contraception on the market, so the idiot in me looks at her and says “Oh, it’s OK. I wasn’t just taking for granted that sex was in the plans tonight.” At this point, she’s looking at me as if i have a third head, at which point I realize my folly. She explained to me that she’s allergic to onions and might need to leave the movie to retrieve the pen if she has a reaction.

Needless to say, there was very little conversation the rest of the night. There was also no second date….
MrFrisky

I was a year out of college and had the kind of piddling job that necessitated moving back in with my folks (yes, I know, disgraceful). The meagerness of my income and likewise my personal tastes at the time meant I favored bars with a dive-like atmosphere or out and out dives; the kind of establishment that staffed sympathetic bartenders that might relieve my relative penury with a stiffer-than-average pour. In fact, it was an exceptionally sympathetic cocktail that had a drastic effect on the course of the evening in question.

I had had one or two with my friends before stepping out on the smoking patio where an interesting young lady availed me of her presence: close-cropped hair, sheathe-cut dress of a print and style harkening to the early sixties, prescription glasses whose lenses were too outsized to be unintentional. Apparently, she had noticed a young man wearing coat and tie in a Texas summer while smoking his cigarette in a cigarette holder (yes, I was that pretentious-looking asshole you saw in the bar that one time) and so assumed he might be interesting to talk to for a little while. She was recently post-college herself and, also like me, had majored in the arts so a fun back and forth between her forte, visual art, and my forte, theatre, ensued.

Now, she seemed to be enjoying the conversation as much as I was, yet I was still a bit surprised when talky-talky almost imperceptibly became flirty-flirty. This presented me with something of a dilemma as I had only enough money to responsibly have a pair of drinks. However, it had also been well over a year since an interesting young lady favored me with such manner of attention. What’s more, I tend to an unfortunate direct ratio between social awkwardness and sobriety. Ultimately, it took fewer than fifteen seconds to decide that another unbalanced rocks glass of liquid loquacity was worth a few days’ ramencentric cuisine.

My friends came out to the patio and we all sat down with her friend who found my friends agreeable enough to allow she and I even more time face to face for the evening’s duration. As said evening progressed, one of my friends displayed his less than endearing habit of seething visibly when his advances are rebuffed so her friend decided to leave early and said good night. Some time after that, my friend rebuffed had seethingly downed too many shots in trying to drown his woes so the others escorted him to a greasy spoon in the hopes he might get something solid in his belly.

And so it was that last call announced itself when se and I were in the middle of a chat about (if I recall correctly) the work of Matthew Barney and her contention that much of it was built on self-obsession. Not being the sorts to let closing time curtail discourse, we finished that subject in front of the bar’s locked front door.

So there we were, two people who seemed to bear a mutual attraction, alone in front of a locked bar, somewhat the worse for drink and lapsed into a sudden pregnant pause in conversation. Before I continue, I would like to make it clear that I am not a “one night stand” kind of guy. I have had them but I neither pursue them or anticipate them. All I expected was her phone number or, at best, a few moment’s pleasant smooching. However, circumstances rather changed when another fellow got out of his car, tried the door, and upon finding it locked, pulled out a gun and decided to rob us.

I daresay our response was not what he expected.
MrFrisky

Her first reaction was to take one look at his gun, “call bullshit”, and start pounding on the door to gain the barstaff’s attention, proclaiming things in the nature of “Hey, check out this asshole.” I, on the other hand, did a quick mental inventory of the contents of my wallet and decided, since there was nothing in it of any street value and I didn’t want to go through the hassle of replacing my driver’s license, that I would simply give him the cash and politely ask if I could keep my wallet. Did I mention she and I had both been drinking?

Needless to say, the fellow was rather taken aback by our response to his brandishing a firearm, so he emphasized his point by pressing the muzzle of the gun between my ribs (which she failed to notice, busy with pounding on the door and questioning his manhood). In spite of this and no doubt inspired by a death wish of which I was previously unaware, I calmly said, “I don’t have any credit cards or anything. Really. Just take the money,” and once more proffered my remaining four dollars American.

At this juncture he seemed to conclude that things were not going his way, plucked the bills from my open hand, and sped off in his car. Mere seconds later, the lady who’d been tending bar opened the door and let us wait inside to make our statement to the police. When they arrived I presented my theory that the fellow had desired to rob a closing-time bar but settled for us when that proved untenable. In fact, I did most of the talking as the young lady was now quite shaken in looking back at her own bravado in the face of assault with a deadly weapon. So after we finished assisting local law enforcement, she asked me to follow her home as sh e was rather uncomfortable being alone just then.

In a slightly nicer neighborhood we pulled up in front of a rather impressive house. From this I could only conclude that she was either absurdly wealthy and unusually settled down for her age or, “Yeah, I had to move back in with the folks after college, what could be sadder? Actually, it’s my father and step-mother. Mom’s down in Austin.” I felt it imprudent to enquire as to the absence of any cars but hers and mine; if her father and his wife wish to be out this late of a Saturday, who am I to object? We poured ourselves modest nightcaps and sat down in her room to talk things out. She had recently suffered some violence of a muddy nature so the evening’s events had shaken a thing or two loose. As we spoke, I heard the opening door and somewhat unsteady footsteps of her father and his wife’s return. This was shortly before we inevitably started to something a touch more satisfying than talk.

However, something she had failed to tell me was that the wall directly behind us was one that she shared with her father’s bedroom and rather thin at that. Thin enough, at least, that fifteen minutes of pleasurable foreplay later, I could help but detect the sound of mutually impassioned moaning on the other side of it. Yes: her father and step-mother were drunkenly shtupping not five yards away. As I fancied myself something of a chivalrous gentleman, I started to pull away from her embrace, supposing she might not be comfortable ascending to amorous delight in such close proximity to her parental unit making fervid squelching sounds. But instead she grabbed ahold of my improbably unremoved necktie, pulled me very close and urgently whispered, “We can beat them!”

Modesty moves me to admit that while we did not “beat them”, we were a respectably close runner-up.
http://twitter.com/CarolynBelefski Carolyn Belefski

Have never been on a crazy date before, but I’d like to read about one!
david forsythe

It was a blind date setup by someone who knew we both like the same baseball team. Turns out that’s all we had in common. After a nice dinner, I took her to one of my favorite clubs to see Andrew Bird back when you could see him play in front of 100 people.

She told me she went to highschool with Andrew Bird and kind of hated him, so she made me leave and go to a Karaoke bar. She tried to get me to sing a JLo duet with her. I declined and had 2 shots of whiskey and a Red Stripe while she sang both parts of the JLo duet. We left immediately after.
Scott

She wouldn’t stop talking about how offended she was by the concept of “butt sex” and how every guy she dated she dumped because he wanted “butt sex.” We met on a dating site for people who didn’t want sex outside of serious relationship, and this was essentially her opener. Then she said that she was asexual and would have sex only once a month if she wanted to have children. This was all before I found out that we had similar career aspirations. We are now connected only through LinkedIn and talk almost exclusively about business.
http://twitter.com/KerryOK5 Kerry O’Flynn

Had dated for a while then just sort of fizzled out. Then, a week before New Year’s calls and asks if I’d like to come with him down to San Diego to his friend’s party. As we’d been before and he’d drive, I said sure! This guy was very cute and well built and a fun, and adventurous roll in the hay – no arm twisting needed – plus my New Year’s plans weren’t looking great.
Cut to the party – he hasn’t been very warm or attentive and the party is just so-so, when in walks a couple of people including a very well-stacked tarted-up babe (I am no dog, and I looked good, but she has really nice tits and cleavage down to her belly button). From that point on things got steadily worse. After he basically abandons me to hit on her (during which time Midnight passes and I am standing alone like a fool – this party is basically couples – plus I only sort of know the hosts and him), he finally comes back simply to throw up on my Black Satin Pumps!
Now as I said this party wasn’t really happening, and now there’s news of another BETTER party we can all go to – the hosts are going for god’s sakes. He then tries to drive us to the other party! I had said I would drive and he had agreed, but then took the keys at the last second AFTER everyone else had driven away. So now it’s be stuck in the middle-of-nowhere suburban San Diego (this is before Cell Phones) or get in the car with a clearly drunk driver. No contest – drunk driver it is. We go to where he thinks the other party is, but it isn’t. He can’t really recognize any landmarks anymore and can’t even find his way back to his friends’ place where we were to stay the night. He pulls into a parking lot where we are supposed to sleep in the car. I am furious – I want a motel, but it seems he can’t find his wallet (probably left somewhere at the first party) and I left all but my basics back at his place in L.A. to carry my cute little party purse. I start to cry and he starts to comfort me – or so I think – he is actually wangling for a Blow Job! That’s it! I slug him, grab the keys so he can’t drive anymore and sleep in the back seat. At dawn I wake him and try to drive but he insists he’s sober and will do it. We spend the next 3 hours in silence. Never saw him again.
Cormacru999

I haven’t gone out on many blind dates, but a woman who saw me working as a fish monger told her friend to tell me I was cute and so we set up a date. we met at a restaurant and sat down to have dinner. she proceeded to tell me that she was a professional babysitter for the friend who talked to me for her and she was getting over a relationship with some fella. she then talked about him and how they relationship went downhill for the rest of the night. It was pretty awful. I paid for the meal, told her it wouldn’t work out until she was over that guy and got a ride home. not as bad as some others I’m sure, but it was uncomfortable and weird for me.
Brett Williams

It was the second date I’d been on since my divorce. I met Cathy on OK Cupid and from the word go we got along famously. She was a bit of a tomboy, with tight skinny jeans that hugged her butt in a way that could drive you crazy, a few well placed tattoos, leather jacket and pixie haircut. A real casually cool punk rocking Francophile who looked like she would have been comfortable at CBGB or the debut of a new Gainsbourg-involved film project. We get out into the real world, start talking, find that we’re both just as passionate about food as we are music, both starting over, both making big changes in our lives and struggling with the terror of it all. We have a few drinks, even though Cathy has admitted to me she has just switched her anti-depressant medication and she isn’t sure how the alcohol will react to it. ”Oh well,” I think, “she’s a big a girl and can take care of herself.”

I was a fool.

After cocktails we’re leaning against her battered Toyota, making out the way two young, attractive hipsters are wont to do at the end of a fairly successful date. There are wandering hands, there is playful nipping, there is a genuine desire to go home with one another even though it’s way too early. We’re kissing, flirting, talking, and then, mid sentence, Cathy’s eyes roll into her head as if s he’s just been possessed by the holy spirit in some wicked snake handling cult. She topples, cracks her head open on the sidewalk, I vomit.

After I nurse her back to consciousness I spend a few minutes holding a handkerchief against her forehead and convincing her to go to the emergency room. In the emergency room, I hold this relative stranger’s hand while she has her wound stapled shut. I get home around 4 AM, have to be up at 6 AM for work.

Needless to say we didn’t date after that.
MaybeMaeby

On our first date (which was a blind date by the way)…after a movie, we went out to dinner. Everything was going great. Midway through dinner, he starts telling me about how his grandmother is a VAMPIRE. Full on, real, vampire. He starts going on and on about how she was floating on the ceiling and can turn into a bat… the whole 9 yards. He was completely serious. Eventually, I made some sort of excuse and bolted out of the restaurant.

There was a second guy, we made it to our 3rd date. We we walking around before a movie, when he finally decides it’s the right time to tell me that he’s a Satanist and actively worships the devil, sacrifices and all. I forget how i managed to finagle my way out of that one, but needless to say, there was no 4th date.
Mdaugherty Shawnee

I was with this girl for about 1 year or so, on and off. I don’t know if she had short term memory loss or if she was just plain stupid, but I could tell her I was gay once a week and she would still get angry, even after I told her I was just joking. The next week the same thing. One day She was pouring a packet of something into a cup, she had just finished stirring it and she sat there for a bit. “Is there something wrong with it?” I asked. “Will it warm up, too?” She asked me with a curious look. “Are you serious?” “Well,” she said, shrugging her shoulders, “It says instant coffee on the package.” I was speechless. So I told her I was gay and was leaving her for another man. I packed my things and left.
John Hazard

I had just started dating after the breakup of a long term relationship. Being somewhat shy in person, I connected with women via dating sites. “Patty,” let’s call her, was the personal assistant to a celebrity who was very active in TV in the past, some films, and a lot of New York theater in more recent years. He had passed away a year or so before, but she still worked for the family. Her photo showed a woman around my age, sitting at a desk, looking like a classic secretary from Mad Men- thick, long hair, A-line dress, curvy, busty figure. I thought from the picture and our email conversations that she was an old fashioned, shy secretary type. We didn’t have much in common, but I was rather attracted to the image.

Our first meeting was a suddenly planned, unconventional one- she and some friends were filling and addressing letters for a charity foundation in the name of her late celeb employer. She said I could come over and help- we would order some chinese food (on the dead guy’s tab), stuff envelopes (not a euphemism- I thought), and get to know each other.

I met her in an apartment that belonged to the departed star. A little place the family stayed when shopping on Fifth Avenue, or after a late night working on Broadway. Sounds pretty exciting? The excitement did not last. Let’s just say, there was a reason the secretary in the picture looked so “classic” and “old fashioned”- it was a very old photo. Now, I wouldn’t mind her just being older- I’ve been on dates and in relationships with women older than me, and liked it very much. But not only had she lied about her age, she just looked so DIFFERENT. Her curviness had turned to squareness, her long thick hair was now a mid-length haystack, and instead of an alluring-yet-modest dress, she wore sweats. But worse than all that was her voice- instead of the sweet and shy melody I had dreamed up, it was gravelly and loud. She made crude jokes, cursed like a sailor, and laughed like a dog barking. It was as if you put Ernest Borgnine in a dress- then replaced that dress with sweats.

Her friends, a male and female set of drama geeks, helped us stamp, stuff, and seal (letters). They dished gossip and speculation about each celebrity whose name appeared on each envelope. I smiled and laughed, but was pretty quiet. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen when they left.

In a few hours they did leave, each exchanging knowing stares and grins with Patty. Alone in the celebrity’s apartment, she turned on the TV, turned off the lights, and sat next to me on the couch.

I had not had much experience dating, before my marriage or after my divorce. I was not very good at saying “no” to women about anything- on the contrary, I’ve always felt compelled to please them, and I hadn’t yet learned the lesson that you’re not really doing anyone any favors by sleeping with everyone you go on a date with. Also, I must confess, I WAS very curious about the one part of her anatomy that had improved with age- she was even more busty than her photo. I do not claim to be a good, smart, OR deep person.

So… we proceeded. It was all too easy to escalate from making out to making… whatever- there was a small bed right there in the living room (I guess even fancy New Yorkers have one room flops). She had told me we had to be very careful to leave no evidence of our date in the apartment of the departed celebrity- his widow and children would be passing through the very next day. I opened a foil condom wrapper (yes, I had brought condoms- see above paragraph) and carefully put the torn off bit inside the wrapper, crumpled it up into as tiny and unrecognizable a ball as I could, and buried it under the chinese food containers in the trash. No one would ever find it.

After the deed, when she had been “pleased”, and I had excused myself from being “pleased” due to first night jitters (which has always been a problem for me anyhow), I hung out as long as I thought I had to, watched David Letterman, and left.

The next day at work she called. Turns out I had been SO careful with the condom wrapper, but had left the condom in the bed! Patty had gotten a call from The Widow Celeb saying, “Patty, what went on in our apartment last night?!?” Patty was humiliated, but feigned innocence (I’m sure that didn’t work, unless other celebs were using that apartment too- ever see that Jack Lemmon movie, “The Apartment”?). Anyway, she forgave me, and wanted to know when our next “meeting” would be. I told her I didn’t think there should be one- that, although I had a great time (lie), I didn’t think we really had anything in common (true).

“Ohhh, I HATE one night stands…” she said, sad and disappointed, in more ways than one, “I really liked you.” I felt like crap, and desperately tried to think of something to say to make her feel better, to lighten the mood, so… I made a joke about the one part of her anatomy I DID like. Yeah.

We never spoke after that. I have never stopped feeling bad about it. I did learn to be more careful about people’s feelings, and not sleep with everyone I dated- after one more really bad experience. I’m not good, smart, or deep.
http://www.kellytindall.com Kelly Tindall

When I was in college, I had a bit of a thing for a girl (I’ll call her Dee) who used to sit in the back of my English class with me and complain about the teacher’s theories on Shakespeare. One night, she asked me out and I thought we were finally taking the next step; until I got to her place.

When I arrived, she was all dolled-up in a sweet leather jacket and a great mini-skirt. She gave me a big smile and then introduced me to her friend (I’ll call him H.) who she had met on the internet. He was visiting from Havana (!), staying at her house with her (!!) and wanted to take us for a ride in his rental car, which was a Corvette (!!!).

What commenced was a full hour of me trying to keep cool and look macho for this girl while H. drove the car like he was trying to achieve escape velocity. He spun the car around and around in parking lots (leaving vortices of melted rubber), burned through red lights like they were a challenge, and earned a permanent passive-aggressive foe in me.

The chaos finally quieted when H. took the wrong turn down a busy avenue (nicking the curb with a back tire) and attracted the attention of the police. I sat in the back of the car, thankful at last that I was being ignored, as H. and Dee explained and lied and cried to the officer. Finally, Dee hopped cheerfully into the car, dark lines of mascara down her cheeks, and said, “Pigs always fall for tears!” It was the kind of thing a young dumb college kid would find absolutely intoxicating, except that her next act was to plant a kiss on H.’s lips.

They got married a couple of years later. To this day, I still don’t like sitting in the back seat of a car.
John Hazard

So… did anyone ever win this? I’m curious which one did.
bubbafett23

Congratulations to our winning post by Sunshinemagic! You’ll be receiving a copy of Finder Library Vol. 2 with a personalized sketch by Carla. A very special thanks to everyone who took the time to enter this contest!