Love and Order CVU: Creeper Victim's Unit - Rate My Date

After the story of my embarrassing life hit the internet, I was inundated with texts and Facebook messages from other girls who had experienced similarly catastrophic dates. In the interest of group commiseration, I decided to create a series that would tell other girls that they're not alone, and tell weird guys that maybe they should pump the brakes a smidge. If you have a story that you would like shared, feel free to send it my way!

 

In the Serial Dating System, the people are represented by two separate, yet equally important groups: the bros who do creepy shit and the ladies who have to text their friends, "SAVE MEEE." These are their stories.

 

My friend had tried for a year to set me up with this guy she had dated a few times before she met her current boyfriend. I finally agreed, and she gave me his number so we could start talking.

 

We agree to meet for drinks one night at around 7 p.m. He texts me at 6 saying he is having dinner with his dad and will be late so we would meet at 9 instead. At 8:55 he calls to say he's almost there and he will text me as he is walking in. He actually doesn't end up getting there until almost 10.

 

I had made an effort to look nice, wearing heels and a nice top. He was in ratty Pumas and an Under Armour hoodie. He proceeded to talk about himself for three hours, all while we were sitting outside on a patio in the cold and not bothering to ask if I was chilly (not that I wanted to wear the hoodie, but it's the principle of the thing).

 

I finally gave him the hint I was ready to go home. He kept texting me asking to meet up again, and told me I was a "solid 8.5 to his perfect 10," and felt that with time I could "rank even higher."

 

--Bo Derek

Love and Order CVU: Creeper Victim's Unit - John Mayer

After the story of my embarrassing life hit the internet, I was inundated with texts and Facebook messages from other girls who had experienced similarly catastrophic dates. In the interest of group commiseration, I decided to create a series that would tell other girls that they're not alone, and tell weird guys that maybe they should pump the brakes a smidge. If you have a story that you would like shared, feel free to send it my way!

 

In the Serial Dating System, the people are represented by two separate, yet equally important groups: the bros who do creepy shit and the ladies who have to text their friends, "SAVE MEEE." These are their stories.

 

I dated my first bearded musician for about four months in college. He was a character from a romantic comedy come to life, and I ate that shit up like birthday cake. Have you ever been on a horse and carriage ride along the waterfront on an April evening? Like, that happened. Wasn't even my idea.

John Mayer was his idol, and he liked to [try to] play guitar for me, which always made me uncomfortable but I felt obligated to love it because that's what Rachel McAdams would do. I, too, was a huge Mayer fan, and we spent a lot of our time doing gravity bongs and then having in-depth conversations about the significance behind the albums and how the songs interconnected. The fact that I made it out of this relationship without dreads shocks me every day.

Unfortunately, he was super clingy and had a Chinese symbol tattooed on his calf, so I was forced to cut him loose. I really didn't think it'd be a huge deal, but he flipped the fuck out. Like, ugly crying, "you'll never find anyone better"ing, slamming doors IN MY APARTMENT, crazy-girl madness. I half-assed an apology and got him to leave so I could go to the bars with my friends.

That night, and for several days weeks following The Break Up, he would randomly text me John Mayer lyrics that I guess he found applicable to our relationship.
"Can we plz talk tmrw? I cant let just let u walk away. There I just said it, Im scared ull forget about me."
"Id like to think the best of me is still hiding up my sleeve, so Im not gunna lose n e more sleep over u."
"Ill make the most of all the sadness. U'll be a bitch becuz u can. We were slow dancing in a burning room r whole relationship, I shoulda seen this coming."

It was fucking hilarious. And also sad. My friends couldn't get enough of it, and to this day I can text one of them something like, "Do you want extra cheese on the pizza?" and get the reply, "Twice as much ain't twice as good and can't sustain like one half could. But ya!"

 

-- Her Body is a Wonderland

Kasually Kidnapped, Part 2

[cont'd from Part 1]

"Wait, turn the cab around, I think I left my phone on the table."
"No you didn't, I checked the table before we left."
"Can we please just turn around and check? I need my phone."
"It's not there."
"Can we PLEASE just turn AROUND to get my PHONE. PLEASE. PHONE. PLEASE."
"We'll find it."

Fuckity fuck fuck fuck, I was stuck in a cab with a full-blown sociopath. I was digging in between the seats when the cab stopped in front of a place that was not where my friends were.

"Where are we?"
"My place."
"Okay better question: Why are we here?!"
"I thought we could hang out and watch a movie."
"I need to go back to my friends right now, you need to take me back to them right now."
"Let's just chill a little longer."
"My phone is gone and I have no idea where I am or any way of telling them where I am. They're going to be worried, we need to go back there."
"Eh."
"No. No 'eh.' Take me back to where they are right now."
"Do you wanna play with my dog?"

I wanted to cry but couldn't. This had gone from bad to way, way worse, and I was desperately wishing I had attended that Krav Maga class with one of my friends a few years ago. I knew how to break someone's nose (shove up with the heel of your hand), but that was the extent of my self-defense training. Why hadn't my brothers and I held Wrestlemania in the living room over Christmas for old times' sake so I could brush up on my skills?

I quietly stood/sat on the arm of the sofa while Gavin obliviously played tug-o-war with his dog, Griff. Griff kept shooting me looks as if to say, "The back door's unlocked, save yourself." I shot looks back saying, "Please be gentle when you gnaw on my freshly-murdered flesh."

I asked Gavin if I could use his phone to call my friends (forgetting the fact that memorizing phone numbers is a thing of the past so I was still screwed), but his was conveniently dead. I was visibly defeated.

"I hate it when you're upset like this."
"What do you have to compare it to?"

I told him that I just wanted to sleep, clarifying after his eyes lit up that I would be doing this relationship activity by myself on the couch. He said I could take his bed and he would take the couch, once again being sure I realized how much of a gentleman he was. I ignored him and walked back to his room to lay on top of his covers and stare at the ceiling. Of course, he followed me and stood in the doorway.

"Yes?"
"Is this our first fight?"
"Yes it is."
"I'll make it up to you."
"Please go away."

Trouble in fucking paradise. I'm typically a pretty good problem solver and quick on my feet, but this was a situation. I laid there for a while, going in an out of sleep, not worrying about Gavin coming in and attacking me because I had locked the door. At one point I got up and walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water and saw Gavin and Griff canoodling on the couch, probably plotting which section of my body would be buried in which part of the yard. Gavin had taken off his sweatshirt and thrown it to the side, and there was something sticking out of the pocket.

Yep.

"Is that my phone?"
"You're awake?"
"Did you take my phone??"
"Oh cool it's here."
"ARE YOU CHARLES FUCKING MANSON WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?! I'm leaving, you need to drive me to my car."
"I thought we were gonna chill?"
"You hid my fucking phone from me you psycho, nothing is happening here. Let's go."
"I can't drive, I've been drinking."

Nice try, Beyonce.

"It's four in the fucking morning you idiot, at this point you probably have half a buzz but you are not drunk by any means. Get up and get your fucking keys, you're driving me to my car. I can't believe this."
"I have a company car, Skylar, I can't get a DUI."
"You told me yesterday you drive the truck given to you by the construction company, Gavin, it's not a fucking Rolls."
"You know my name?"
"Jesus Christ."

This exchange went in circles for the better part of ten minutes until he finally begrudgingly got up and put on shoes.

"Babe, I hate it when you're this upset."
"You've known me twelve hours. Stop talking."

He insisted on bringing Griff along, so the happy little family climbed into the truck together. I felt exhausted, guilty, and extremely stupid, and this was only amplified by Gavin continuing to speak to me as if "this" would continue past him dropping me off.

"Babe I'm sorry."
"Do not call me that."
"But we're dating."
"No we're not."
"Didn't we have the exclusivity talk last night?"
"Stop."
"You have my number right?"
"Sure."

Praise the Lord and His miracles, we made it to my car and I still had all of my toes. As you can imagine, he definitely tried to kiss me good-bye, to which I shoved Griff in his face and jumped out of that truck as fast as possible. I know that most people struggle the morning after Sunday Funday, but I think I beat anyone's hangover by leaps and bounds today.

Moral of the Story: Stretch Armstrong might've looked like a circus freak, but at least we can guarantee he loves Creatine more than he'd ever love me. Better safe than sorry.

Like what you read? I'm this entertaining 24/7 on Twitter. Follow me @BTDubs_Skylar!

Love and Order CVU: Creeper Victim's Unit - John Tucker Must Die

After the story of my embarrassing life hit the internet, I was inundated with texts and Facebook messages from other girls who had experienced similarly catastrophic dates. In the interest of group commiseration, I decided to create a series that would tell other girls that they're not alone, and tell weird guys that maybe they should pump the brakes a smidge. If you have a story that you would like shared, feel free to send it my way!

In the Serial Dating System, the people are represented by two separate, yet equally important groups: the bros who do creepy shit and the ladies who have to text their friends, "SAVE MEEE." These are their stories.

Last summer I started hanging out and hooking up with this 27-year-old babe who appropriately earned the name John Tucker. We got along great and the sex was awesome, but he never fully wanted to commit, and I knew he had another girl that lived in Philadelphia. Proximity and convenience trumps everything, so I had the upper hand (except when she would come to visit. Whatever).

This past July was about the one year mark of us doing whatever we were doing, and I asked him about this girl--who we'll call Philly--and what she was to him. He promised me it was nothing.

Wrong, obviously. He ended things with me to be with her, and she ended up living with him for the summer. WELL, we all played on the same softball team together and as much as I wanted to be a bitch, I really did like this girl because she was actually super nice. Fuck me, right?

Fast forward to the end of July, and John Tucker left Philly at one bar to come to another bar with me, a minor detail I wasn't aware of until later. She ends up meeting us at that bar anyway, and while we're all standing in line he breaks up with her with me standing right next to him, telling her he's not over me. So. Awkward.

So Philly moved back to Philly, and everything between John Tucker and I was great. It really seemed like we were a legit couple...up until he went an entire weekend without talking to me, that is. It was Labor Day Weekend and I get on Facebook to discover that he went to the beach with her. Spectacular.

Safe to say that things were over for good when I screen shotted him a pic of them together and he responded with, "Yeah I need to talk to you about that." Yeah, don't bother.

--Fresh Princess of Bel Air

Love and Order CVU: Creeper Victim's Unit - Bad Teacher

In the Serial Dating System, the people are represented by two separate, yet equally important groups: the bros who do creepy shit and the ladies who have to text their friends, "SAVE MEEE." These are their stories.

When I was in 4th grade I had a smokin' hot teacher. Alas, I was fucking 10 and didn't realize the opportunity set before me. A stroke of luck occurred when I was 16 and had the chance to become his teacher's assistant. Naturally, I jumped at the chance to see this hot piece of ass every day.

I had finally grown boobs and Bad Teacher definitely noticed, telling me, "If I was your age I would totally be dating you." Maybe I should note that he was 42, married, had two children and was an elementary school teacher. Moving on.

In June of that year, my family moved very far away, and I never thought I would see him again. SIKE. Jump to four years later, Christmas break of my sophomore year of college. I was feeling particularly naughty and decided to shoot him a "hey" message, asking if I could pop by his class so he could see the hot girl I had become (humble, I know). He immediately called me back and wanted me to meet him for coffee at Panera. Of course, I did.

We sat there for three hours and he was unabashedly hitting on me the entire time. Everyone dreams about this shit but it actually coming to fruition was freaky and I didn't know what to do. He ends our conversation with this: "I know the real reason why you contacted me...you want to sleep with me...and that's what I want too. I have fantasized about this for so long and I think we have something special." I AM SORRY, COME AGAIN?! I was totally freaked out and said I had to go brush my hair or pluck my eyebrows, anything to get out of that situation. He walked me out to my car and planted a kiss right on my lips. I pushed him away, got in my car and sped the fuck out of the parking lot.

I never thought I would hear from him again, and I really didn't care either way, but lo and behold on Christmas Eve I get a telephone call from Teach. He said he has the perfect spot where we can meet up and have the best sex ever. He also made sure to mention that he'd definitely bring his boner meds to keep up with me because I was so young and hot. I tried to remind him about his wife and kids and tell him that I just couldn't do that, but he proceeded to talk to me about how special it would be and how he would "rock my world."

I was dying.

Teach then sent me drunk texts all night from his flip phone and texted about as slow as a grandpa, using way too many ";)" and ";P" faces. He clearly thought it was still 2006. I tried to shake it off and not reply but he just wouldn't let up. Finally at 4 a.m. the day after Christmas, he calls me crying, saying he wants to leave his wife and that he would make me the happiest girl in the world with the "pleasure" he would give me. THE FUCK.

I told him that it just wouldn't work out and it was creepy so please stop calling me. He finally hung up and the texted me some Usher lyrics saying "goodbye" the next day [Skylar Side Note: Obviously, the lyrics were from Confessions. Now, Part 1 or Part 2? Discuss].

That following summer I accidentally texted him instead of my friend saying, "Hey babe! We are at the party where are you?" He replied with, "My wife knows I am sorry can't talk."
...I laughed for days. Luckily I haven't heard from him lately, although he hilariously still follows me on Twitter.

--Straight A Student

Love and Order CVU: Creeper Victim's Unit - Justin Bobby

In the Serial Dating System, the people are represented by two separate, yet equally important groups: the bros who do creepy shit and the ladies who have to text their friends, "SAVE MEEE." These are their stories.

I was walking to the bus stop one day when a guy approached me and struck up a conversation. He seemed very indie and mysterious, so of course I immediately dubbed him Justin Bobby a la The Hills.

Justin Bobby got my number and asked me to meet him after class for dinner two days later. I told him I was a vegetarian (lie) but he took me to a Mexican restaurant that had little-to-no vegetarian options. Thanksss...

He proceeded to tell me that he strongly believes in reincarnation and that people had "past lives." He believed that he was a lonesome cowboy in the past life, possibly like Jesse James. He thought I was a quilt maker. When I commented that my past life sucked, he went into detail explaining how cowboys needed quilts for under their saddles, and he was certain he and I had met before. Apparently, I had made him a quilt for his saddle and I was essentially meant to help him in this life.

Needless to say that date was cut short and his number was deleted ASAP.

--Crafty Audrina Patridge

Love and Order CVU: Creeper Victim's Unit - Pug Luvr

After the story of my embarrassing life hit the internet, I was inundated with texts and Facebook messages from other girls who had experienced similarly catastrophic dates. In the interest of group commiseration, I decided to create a series that would tell other girls that they're not alone, and tell weird guys that maybe they should pump the brakes a smidge. If you have a story that you would like shared, feel free to send it my way!

In the Serial Dating System, the people are represented by two separate, yet equally important groups: the bros who do creepy shit and the ladies who have to text their friends, "SAVE MEEE." These are their stories.

 

After my boyfriend and I broke up from our approximately four-and-a-half-year relationship, I went on a blind date with a guy who was 26. I figured older, more mature, distraction, all good. Let me just say THANK GOD we went out for drinks because if I wasn't drunk I don't know what I would have done.

 

So he's starts out seemingly normal, everything is going well. Then he proceeds to tell me that he's never had a girlfriend--not even middle school, hand holding, not-a-real-relationship relationship--so I figured I'd switch the subject and randomly talk about how I really want a husky. He tells me he hates big dogs (he's 6'4...) but he is obsessed with pugs--not because he thinks that they're so ugly they're cute, but because he thinks they are the most beautiful creatures in the world. He even has an "I love pugs" t-shirt that he frequently wears out to bars (amazing that he's never found the right girl, right?).

 

For whatever reason, I agreed to a second date, figuring I could just take shots beforehand. He took me to P.F. Changs, and all of a sudden he started asking me personal sex questions like, "What's your favorite position?" and, "Oh you were a gymnast? I bet you're real flexible!" "Do you like it dirty?!"

 

Needless to say the ride home was extremely awkward. And I proceeded to immediately defriend him on Facebook.

 

--Balto Babe