Waiter's coming:
Please don't order anything for me that has red meat, pink meat, fish, poultry, wheat product, corn product, any kind of oil ( I don't care if it's olive or avocado ),vegetables that grows above or below ground or any fruit that has seeds and pits bigger that.0001 mm, anything that may have come out of a cow, including milk, cream, butter, yoghurt, also no cheese of any kind.

I'll just give you the list when the waiter comes.I'm really sorry I had no time to tell you before you picked the restaurant.

Where do you work, like what part of town & what address?
Does it pay good money?
What's your mothers name?
Have you ever had sex on a 1st date?
Do you fall in love easily?
So tell me about yourself? (Whilst telling me their entire life story without taking a single breath)
Do you wanna to do a selfie together because I wanna show my friends who i'm on a date with?

Then after all those questions comes the famous last question...

So what do you see in me & would you like to go on another date?

Uhhh..... Let me get back to you on that....

When I date, I don't expect to be the only woman the person is dating. it's *dating* after all, we aren't in a relationship. And hopefully people are honest about that.

so I don't mind people telling me they are dating/screwing/whatever other people - this is honest and I appreciate honesty. I also feel less pressure knowing I'm not going to be expected to give them full monogamy and my life's attention after one meeting of 2 hours - and that's been asked of me A LOT.

But there is a way to do it and a way NOT to do it, eh?

for example, the way *not* to do it, is to tell me how awesome hot the other person they are shagging is, but how fucked up the dynamics are, that there is tons of drama around it (wow, stop, you are totally winning me over, here by talking about your other dates and how you can't draw boundaries with people) till I interrupt the soliloquy and announce my need for the bathroom.

When I come back, they are staring at the phone fondly. Then say "She wants to know how my date is going" Then promptly shows me a pic of her and says "isn't she hot?"

"Sure. I was super hot at ... 28? too. Weren't we all?"

She then sort of woke up from what she was doing, put the phone face down, and talked to me about her health problems.

We had talked for weeks and she was a friend of a mutual friend, so I knew she wasn't dangerous and she had driven a long way (3.5 hours) to have dinner. I had promised her the couch.

That is where she slept.

You know... tell me you don't promise monogamy in the beginning, or that you are dating others, or that you don't do monogamy ever, even. But ffs, have some fucking manners: if you are out on a date with me, you are out on a date with *ME*.

Bullet dodged, anyway.

one of the many past reasons I don't "date" anymore!

Ask about financial status!

"My therapist gave me an assignment to go on 50 dates, and you're #36." This actually WAS said to me on a date back in the day.

Not on a date
 

"Do you mind if my 18 year old daughter joins us" true...and she did.

I decided that one date was enough.

What's your financial status.....

''

It's a red beauty mark, not a cold sore. Hey, mind if I use your Chapstick?

or

Smell this--does it smell infected?

or

I wish this place served mutton. Ever try it? I could eat it 7 days a week.

or

I don't smoke cigarettes, they're gross. I like cigars! Want a puff?

"You know, I hunt and kill all my own meat. If you come home with me tonight (and do right by me), I may be willing to let you try some of my homemade squirrel jerky. It's an aphrodisiac, ya know. I'll even let you have the lil' squirrel's chitlins!"

or

"Wow. I never been with a live lady before."

or

"You know, prison sex ain't so bad as long as you're quick about it, and don't try nothin' too fancy."

"I really hate going on blind dates, don't you?" (this is a blind date)

"What's your sign?".................long pause "Oh.....that's usually not a sun sign i'm into"

Blank stares

"Do you mind if i blog this?"

"I usually date blondes" (You're a dark brunette)

"Do you like me?" (Literally, 10 minutes into a date)

things not to say on a date
 

Say, have you heard the word of our lord and savior Jesus Christ of Nazareth?

"Hey! Let's sneak over to the bar near the dance floor and steal drinks from the people dancing! God, I got sooooo crunk doing that last night!"

I apologize if this offended anyone. It was intended to describe the kind of ultra conservative Christian who thinks being a lesbian should be punished by death. And she's on a date with a lesbian.

What now I have to pull out your chair for you just because you decided to wear a dress? What next we meet up for a barbecue in hell and you show up in a bathing suit? Well (great big eye roll) if I have to. Just make it quick. I'm not standing here all day.


Well I suppose since I'm the butch I'm the one who's going to have to pay. So what will it be then, the lobster I suppose? They didn't even serve lobster at the place we were at. I don't even care for lobster!


Him - Oh you're in a dress you should have told me, if I'd known you were going to wear a dress I'd have worn one too.
Me – Well I just, when you told me you were transgender...
Him – Transsexual!!!
Me – Oh of course well when you said you were a transsexual...
Him – I am a transsexual!
Me – Okay, when you told me you are a transsexual I guess it just never occurred to me that you might want to show up in a dress so we could match. Um would you like to go home and change? I can wait.


I'm so glad I'm not young any more.

That was hysterical!
Here's mine.
Blind date, running late, so I waited for her in the restaurant foyer. She had said before we met, "I 'spose I'm more femme than butch, whatever that means..." (Uh oh).
So, in she comes, with a face like Al Franken only more masculine, and a bobbed, moppy Tony Home perm that had lost its spring months earlier, dyed a putty-ish beige.
She wore a black cowboy shirt tucked into black Wranglers, super pointy black cowboy boots and a thick black leather belt with a giant cowboy belt buckle. It was spring, so the all-black was a rookie mistake for this big old gal, an Ohio native. I didn't mention it.
She also wore about a pint of generic sandalwood oil, covering each pulse point from her ankles to her ears. I could see the scent waves, it was so strong.
She was gruff, another trait I rarely seek in a lady friend, and when the waitress came to take our drink orders, she announced in her booming bass voice, "SEPARATE CHECKS, PLEASE."
(Really? :::eyeroll::: )
She had ordered some kind of boiled shrimp thing, served with the heads on. She made a dramatic presentation out of yanking the heads off, tipping the brains toward her lips and slurping them up so loud, I cringed and gagged at the same time.
By then, I was chugging down a dirty gin martini so fast, the observant waitress didn't have to ask if I wanted another.
Besides her non-stop talking about her ex-lover, "the horrible witch who done her wrong" (yes, she said done, not did) I finally jumped in and asked how recent their break up was. "Seven years," she said. "No, wait, it'll be eight years on the 27th of next month."
By then I was gin-brave and annoyed, so I sighed and said, "Jeeze, lady, maybe you ought to consider hypnosis or something."
She kept forgetting to stop talking about the ex, so I said, "When I raise this finger, it means you're back on your ex."
Finally, she looked up from slurping her remaining shrimp guts and eyeballs, looked me over and said, "Heyyyy, you look pretty dern muscular, that's great. You can help me move some heavy furniture upstairs in my new place."
I did not request a second date, nor did I visit her new place with a dolly and winch.

Years later, I was browsing through a lesbian dating site, looking to see if anyone had poked me.
Yep, there she was again, she'd poked me with her massive, sandalwood soaked finger.
I wrote and said we'd already had the pleasure, and she (probably) grunted as she typed, "Yeah, well, okay then, never mind."

I never saw Ms. Slingblade again. Yet.

One of my last dates was tomboy-ish and I have found a few very lovely closeted what *I* would consider "butch" in that category so I'm usually ok with a date or two but hesitant because it can go horrifically wrong very quickly.

She was an instructor up at UBC, very smart, witty, fun... but not quite grasping the femme thing though I could see it rocked her boat. Her ability to dress herself had obviously stalled in the 80s. Which is hard for me because I like well dressed people, but because I live in a crunchy west coast city these days, I am willing to over look certain things and focus on more important things.

Though the fanny pack, birkenstocks with socks, and mullet-y hair was a hard swallow for the first couple of minutes till her actually charming personality and fun sense of humour shone through.

We hung out a few times and then she got drunk-ish at her neighbour's house ("a girly straight house wife that loves to flirt with the boyish lesbians!" - that she got very overly excited about - radar hint #1 there's quasi-butch in there...) and started sending me pics of this wine party her neighbour was having. "Look at what they are showing me! hey hey!"
and of course straight girls getting their cleavage out for the lezzo to take phone pics of, because that's what drunk straight girls do.

I responded to none of them. But the next day when she was sober, sent a text saying "I appreciate that you may have had partners that were also into girls tits and would have liked the above. As I have said before, tit shots interest me about as much as elbow shots. Possibly less as elbow shots likely have sexy biceps attached to them. If you want to send me sexy pics to interest me, go take some photos a butches in tight-ass sailor costumes with them looking backwards over their shoulders. Maybe send to boob shots to your mates next time, OK? Please don't make me repeat myself again about this."

I got a text asking to take me to my graduation from college dinner. A big deal (2.5 ish years ago, I went back to full time school). Nice! OK. when it rolled around I told her 2 weeks in advance, and the response was "Oh. well... I am dating someone else a bit more seriously. But I can ask her if she minds if I take you."
"no, that's fine. Best of luck."

*eye ROOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLLLLL*

Don't text pics of people's cleavage between dates, either unless she *SPECIFICALLY* asks you to.

Oh wow. Yes some of that behavior would be pretty off putting to me. Other parts like the clothes, not so much, but at least the only complaint you have about footwear is cowboy boots. I went on a date once with a man who showed up in clown shoes. I tried to act nonchalant, pretend I hadn't seen it. He was in a suit, a nice suit, he was dressed in predictable fashion from ankle on up. It's just he had these clown shoes on.

Gee Wheat and here I thought I had handled myself so well on this date...........:giggle:

God, wouldn't that be embarrassing!

Egads!
There was a woman I chased for months before she'd go out with me. The date was fun, and when she asked me to stay over at her place that night, I was thrilled. She tells to me to make myself at home while she's in the bathroom, so I shucked off all my clothes and got into her bed.
When she crawled in next to me, she said, "I hope you're not expecting any hanky panky."

S H I T.

I waited till she fell asleep, then I very quietly got dressed and got the hell out of there.
Twenty years later, I hooked her up with my recent ex who didn't like hanky panky much, either. They really hit it off...I guess.
When I hit it off with someone, there's plenty of hanky AND panky--that's why we hit it off!

LOL

This one takes the cake for me.....

Just so you know, I am on probation/parole.

Which begs the question...what for?

There's a dyke manual? I detest the word dyke so maybe that's why I'm not in the know. I was never a baby butch. I can accept that I was a tomboy, but not the baby butch.

I understand.
I don't use the word dyke around straight people, but I've read several lesbian articles and spoken to many more, and they agree that we queers should take the word 'dyke' and make it our own--like Dykes on Bikes in the San Francisco Pride parade, or Alison Bechdel's iconic comic strip, "Dykes to Watch Out For (started in 1983!).
If you want a similar case of a disenfranchised group reappropriating an offensive word, look at the African American community, when they turned the N word into "n*gga" which is used in music, as a term of endearment, etc.
A black friend of mine once asked me if I was her n*gga.
I said sure, but can I ask you if you're my n*gga?
She said, "Yes, but not around anyone else. And don't use that word around black people, you'll get your ass kicked."
I hope that helps you, buddy.

On a date...
 

Let's see...

There was the "Let's meet for a drink" where the conversation at the bar in this very nice restaurant was going really well, the flirting was lively, and just after my date made a break for the bathroom the bartender leaned over the bar to tell me my charming date was here just last weekend and celebrating her 10th Anniversary...with her very pregnant wife.

(Phone rings) "I have to take this. It's my ex and she has the kids". I think to myself "OK, that seems reasonable". I soon find myself sitting there in front of my date who's saying threatening things to her ex about lawyers, custody, and restraining orders. The phone call ends abruptly. "So, what looks good...besides you?"

"I'm packing. Can you feel it under the table?" I said, yeah...that's kind of sexy...and guide my hand under the table to my date's pants and she says "No. I unzipped already and something happened. It fell out under the table. I think it's near you." (that was actually kind of funny...and my date was adorably horrified.).

For the most part and for at least the first few dates... I avoid all the topics that one should avoid in the workplace: religion, politics, sex or past relationships, money, and family or health issues.

Conversely ... I don't usually date someone until I've known them for a little while (ala friendish first) so by the time we get around to dating one or more of the above topics has already come up in conversation. :p