I’ve gotten to know a few of my followers. I love that we’ve created a nice little community of writers over the last year. We email back and forth and sometimes even text if both parties are comfortable with that. I was chatting with this one lady who writes her own blog about relationships. She shared an interesting dating story with me and it felt like something that could happen on phicklephilly.
I asked her if I could run it on my site and she agreed. She said it’s not the sort of thing she would write about on her site because unlike phicklephilly, it’s not a dating blog.
So here is the story as told to me by my author buddy, Diana.
On a first date when I was a freshman in college, I went on a date with a guy I met at a party. We were going to go to the reservoir for the afternoon on a beautiful Indian Summer day. First, we had to “get some cash.” He took me to a blood bank to donate plasma! We got extra cash since it was the first visit for both of us and while I was there, my bed “won” the drawing and I received an extra $10.
I was so shocked by all this, all I could do was sit frozen and hope it was a bad dream. I couldn’t get up and leave because I was hooked to an IV!
After the donation was over we went through a fast food drive-thru and got some sandwiches and then a case of beer. Once we got out in the sun at the reservoir, drank the beer, and ate the sandwich, I proceeded to feel sicker than I have ever felt before and threw up all over the beach. That was 17 years ago and I still can remember how sick I felt.
No cell phone back then, so I was stranded out at the reservoir with a loser who clearly had no respect for me. I felt beyond “used.” I had to give plasma so we could go on this crappy outing and then I got sick so he proceeded to drink all the beer! (Which I think was his goal from the beginning!) I was very naive and I felt so embarrassed for him, that he thought that this was even remotely close to acceptable human behavior, that I downplayed the whole event and tried to pretend it had never happened.
Now that I’m older, I realize the “scene” I should have made once we arrived at the blood bank and gotten out of the whole thing! It was too dangerous a situation. He was the man, he had the plan for the date and I just went for the ride. I never let that happen again. I ask for plans up front. Have an exit plan. And always make sure I voice my concerns.
Thank you Diane for your crazy dating story. Live and learn!
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