Baby Talk

By Joe Daly


I ran into her at a fundraiser a couple months after the date.  The date had ended with an assurance that a phone call would be forthcoming.  This promise remained unfulfilled.

It was a black tie fundraiser on the night before Easter and the cavernous ballroom was still only half full.  The price that I paid for arriving on time was that I was by myself.  Well, not including the stuffed bunny I held under my arm.  And thank God for him.

The friends I was meeting had opted for a very liberal interpretation of timeliness, and so I found myself in my rarely-used tux, pretending as if I were on my way to or from a boisterous group of friends.  I wore the face that said that I had just caught someone’s eye and repeatedly wove figure eights throughout the room, occasionally cutting across the dance floor as if I needed a shortcut to reach my non-existent destination.

I ran into her on the dance floor, our paths intersecting smack dab in the middle.  By the plural number of empty glasses in her hands, I deduced that she was 1) with at least one other person; and 2) on her way to the bar.

The encounter was so abrupt that I did not recognize her at first, and her blank stare indicated that she too was unsure of my identity.  Then her eyes squinted ever so slightly as she made a valiant, though unsuccessful attempt at masking her disdain.

Being both a guy and a people pleaser, I acted as if I expected her to be as pleased to see me as I was pretending to be pleased to see her.

“Hey there!” I said with an optimism entirely unjustified by the circumstances.

(furtively looking away, as if for an exit) “Oh, uh, hey.”

“What’s happening?”

(Ever so slightly annoyed) “Um…  just getting a drink.”

“Oh.  Yeah.  Cool.  So um, how’s everything?”

“Good.  Um, how’s everything with you?”  The inflection she chose for the last word, along with the look on her face indicated that both her patience and the conversation were about to reach a rather colorful end.

“Good, good.  Well, um… yeah, having a good time tonight?”  Dammit.  I remember thinking I had asked one question too many.

“I gotta run.  My friends are back at the table.”

“Great seeing you.”  I started to back off.


Phew.  Thank God for that fucking bunny.


I was pretty new to online dating and still a little gun shy on the whole process.   My last coffee date had been with a woman who resembled the pictures in her online profile much in the same way that Flavor Flav might be said to resemble John McCain.  After that experience, I prepared to cancel my subscription, but then I received an email that made me reconsider.

The author of the email looked and sounded refreshingly down to earth and her profile was almost too good to be true.  She was a couple years older than I and if her pictures were accurate, stunningly put together for someone her age.  Hell, she was stunningly put together for someone of any age.  In the unlikely event that someone might examine her profile and remain unconvinced of her hotness, she chose the screen name of “HARDBODY_(her name).”  To be sure, she was a woman of tremendous literal capacity.

Through some introductory emails, we discovered that we shared some sizable plots of common ground.  We had lived in some of the same cities, worked in similar professions at one time or another, and had moved to San Diego at approximately the same time.  The kicker was when realized that we both shared an oxymoronic passion for both fitness and appallingly poor nutrition.  We were both running freaks and pizza fiends.

We decided to meet.  So convinced was I that we would hit it off, I suggested we make our first date a night on the town.  I had learned the hard way that in the world of internet dating, first dates should involve little more than coffee, drinks, or something quick, early, and public to mitigate any unexpected unpleasantness.  In hindsight, a deeper examination of our dimensions of compatibility was most certainly warranted for breaking this tradition, but at the time, an evening date made sense.

I suggested a funky little spot in scenic La Jolla.  It was central to both of us and if things went well, we could have some appetizers or dinner and then hit one of the neighborhood clubs or cafes afterward.  She arrived right on time, tastefully dressed and looking every bit the looker in her profile photos.


Now, I don’t think I’m any more or less shallow than most men or women- looks are certainly important, but a relationship based on looks has the shelf life of a honeydew melon.  I’ll take a pretty face and a great personality over an intolerable hardbody any day of the week.  My relief at seeing my date wasn’t because she was attractive, but rather because she did not look like she had just emerged from Middle Earth.

We chatted easily and for about ten minutes the date was shaping up to be pleasant, normal, and quite fun.  Then my bubble burst.

Apparently she was gassy.

We were talking about our respective health clubs when she offered that one of the things she particularly enjoyed about her club was that it was spacious enough so that when she needed to fart, she could escape to a corner and release her gaseous payload without alerting other members.  She boasted that  while diminutive in stature, she could most assuredly “clear out a room” if and when she decided to break wind.  She speculated that this ability was likely due to the prodigious amount of dairy in her diet.

I’ve seen the book and I know the deal- “Everybody Poops.”  Maybe it’s just the old fashioned guy in me but my enthusiasm for farting discussions waned at around age twelve.

I looked at her and nodded empathetically as she recounted some of the highlights of her “Top Ten Gym Farts,” but it was as if I could see a giant red flag unfurled behind her, blowing in the wind she was undoubtedly releasing at that very moment.

What shook me was not that she experienced gassy moments, just like all other mammals;  rather, what shocked me was that out of all her first date selling points, the one she would choose to showcase was the supernatural pungency of her backdoor breeze.

We finished the appetizers and as we began to pursue non-digestive topics like work, music, and travel, I started to find myself minimizing the significance of our earlier topic.  She was energetic and had a playful sense of humor.  And she did have a great smile.

We decided to go to a piano bar.

I suggested that we take my car, and as we walked towards my parking spot, she slid her arm into mine.  She made an unintelligible purring sound, and rather than ask her to repeat what was surely a playful endearment, I smiled.  I opened the passenger side and she bounded in with unchecked perkiness.  I hopped into the driver’s seat and we headed to the bar.  That’s when it all went sideways.

And no, she did not fart.  Hell, by then I would have been almost disappointed if she didn’t fart around me.  No, what happened was nothing short of unnerving.

We were approaching an intersection and I began to ask her a question, when all of a sudden, I heard a squeaky, high-pitched sound, accompanied by clapping:

“Woobie!  Woobie!  Woobie!”

With acute horror and astonishment, I realized that this sound had come from INSIDE THE CAR.

Then it happened again:

“Woobie!  Woobie!  We go to pee-yan-no baaahhh!”

I slammed on the brakes and turned in horror to my date, who was smiling and bouncing in the passenger seat.

I don’t think I managed any sort of response before she pointed at the car radio and exclaimed:

“Woobie!  Woobie!  Wisten!  Dey pway ow-ah song!!”

She had begun to speak in baby talk.  Apparently “Woobie” was an interjection of intense excitement (as if one had just farted), and the other information she wanted to share was that the radio was apparently playing “our song.”

Because the car had stopped moving, she seized the opportunity to move to her knees in her seat and pushed her face straight into mine.  I dared not move.  Her eyes were wide, blue and crazy.  You could not have slid a piece of paper between our noses, and with unblinking eyes she then said:

“Gooo…  geee… Poo poo.”

I remember each syllable vividly.  By the way, it is instructive to note that this woman was a high-ranking corporate attorney.

So there I was, staring into the eyes of a crazy person, trapped in my own car, restrained by a seatbelt and being accosted by a gassy woman-baby at a busy La Jolla intersection on a Friday night.  Suddenly my last coffee date didn’t seem so bad.

I felt the color drain from my face as tsunamis of fear began pounding my nervous system.  I  managed to drive a bit further before it dawned on me that bringing a crazy woman-baby to an upscale piano bar might be a challenge beyond my emotional fitness.  Desperate and losing hope, the solution came to me in a flash.

“AAAA-CHOO!” I blurted.

“BWESS YOU!” she clapped and replied.

She bought it.

I closed my eyes and lifted my nose, as if trying to fight back a sneeze, and then exhaled, “AAAA-CHOOOO!” even more forcefully than before.

“Aww!  Sneezy sneezy!”

“Crap,” I said as if concerned, “Hey, did you say you had a cat?” (I vividly remembered her mentioning a cat).

“Um… yeah…  Why?”  The adult had returned.

“Crap.  AAAA-CHOO!”

“Oh no!  What’s the mattuh?” she asked, dipping slightly into baby voice, but still an adult.

“I’m allergic to cats.  You must have cat dander on your clothes.  Aw, dammit…” I feigned deep disappointment.

“I DO have cat all over my clothes!  He always sleeps on this coat.”


“That must be it, then.  That coat is really bringing up my allergies.”

I began rubbing my eyes in the hope that they would begin to water.  I fake sneezed again, and scratched my face.

“Take coat off?”  Baby was back.

“No, no… once I get going, that’s it.  I’m going to be like this for awhile until I get some fresh air.  Awww, I’m sooo sorry!”

“Wit’s ok…  Me unduhstand…” baby offered unconvincingly.

I drove her back to her car, alternately sneezing, scratching and apologizing while she switched back and forth between baby and adult dialogue.  The night ended with a goodbye peck on the cheek and lots of sneezes and scratches from me.  I promised I’d call her back.  She promised to brush her clothes the next time.

The date was over.



I stuck with online dating for a few months after that, but my heart was no longer in it.  Like a pitcher who takes a fastball off the nose, I could never fully commit to the game after that.

I feel somewhat bad for the immature way I responded to the situation.  There are undoubtedly better ways of ending a date than faking a violent allergic reaction.  Maybe my buddy’s wife was right when she said that I was forty years old and still single because I’m selfish and unrealistic.  And maybe the night might have turned out great if I gave it a little more time.  But thankfully I’ll never know how close I might have came that night to having to change a diaper.

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JOE DALY writes for a number of publications, including the UK's Metal Hammer and Classic Rock magazines, Outburn, Bass Guitar Magazine and several other print and online outlets. He is the music and cultural observer for Chuck Palahniuk's LitReactor site and his works have been published in several languages. When he is not drafting wild-eyed manifestos, Joe enjoys life in San Diego's groovy North County, teaching music journalism, doing yoga, running, playing guitar and spending tireless hours in deep and meaningful conversations with his beloved dogs, Cabo and Lola. You can check out his rants at and follow him on Twitter: @JoeD_SanDiego

70 responses to “Baby Talk”

  1. joleen says:

    Wwbcd…What would Brice Campbell do?
    Hilarious story…begs the question, what’s karma got to do with it? :o)

    “…library…there’s nice girls there…”
    (Coming to America)

    • Joe Daly says:

      Karma? Wait- you mean to say I might have actually played some part in attracting this situation?

      Yanno, one of these days I’m going to take a look at that.

  2. Lorna says:

    Oh my this was hilarious and a real gas to read.

  3. Dana says:

    “So there I was, staring into the eyes of a crazy person, trapped in my own car, restrained by a seatbelt and being accosted by a gassy woman-baby at a busy La Jolla intersection on a Friday night. Suddenly my last coffee date didn’t seem so bad.”

    Oh my God! I laughed out loud several times reading this and thanked my lucky stars that I am happily married person.

    Excellent piece Joe. “To be sure, she was a woman of tremendous literal capacity.” <– great line!

    • Joe Daly says:

      Dana, I’m glad I can play a small part in reminding you how lucky you are to be able to avoid the slings and arrows of outrageous internet relationships.

      Thanks for the comment!

  4. Lorna says:

    Yeah Dana, I threw a few hallelujah shout outs to my marital status as well. lol.

    Thanks for sharing your writing Joe.

  5. Irene Zion says:


    The same woman who was a corporate attorney spoke in baby talk on your first date?
    She doesn’t have a chance in hell of landing a mate.
    You do, though, you shouldn’t give up.
    There was no way for you to anticipate the baby-talking or the upfrontness of her gas problem.

    • Joe Daly says:

      Thanks, Irene! I have a feeling that to this day, this woman could not pinpoint anything in our date that did not go well. But I shall persevere! Just not on the internet. 🙂 Thanks for the support!

  6. Amanda says:

    Awesome. Horrible. Awesome.

    It took 17 Internet date dudes to break my spirit last year, each one with an horrendous story mercifully involving no baby-talk but definitely involving behaviour nearly as off-putting. Then, this winter, I gave in, signed up for another site, thought this time it would all be so different…and…hot damn, was I wrong! Ohhhhh the things I could tell you, haha.

    I offer my condolences, and a hand-shake and shoulder-pat. Allergies? Well played.

    • Joe Daly says:

      Amanda, if you withstood 17 dates, then you most surely have the emotional stamina of a deity. At least a semi-deity. Don’t you wish there were some sort of definitive sign that would appear when you have crossed the line between “Just Seeing What’s Out There” and “Nothing’s Changed?”

      • Amanda says:

        A special smoke signal in the key of “dog whistle” that only ok people can hear…its pitch inaudible to anyone who is simply excellent at “good-date”-presenting, rather than being truly a good-date-in-reality.

        I thought I would never exhaust the blogging opportunities while I was Internet-dating, haha. It seemed like, if nothing else, a bottomless well of crazy, or like the Magic Porridge Pot, cranking out anecdotes until someone taught me the magic word for “stop!!!”

        : )

  7. Zara Potts says:

    Jesus. This is too insane for words. Farting? On the first date?? EEuuuuuwwwww.
    And the baby talk??
    You dodged a bullet.

  8. Dennis says:

    I really don’t see all the red flags. If you wound up marrying this woman, you’d get a spouse and a child all wrapped in one package. Think of all the money you would save not having to pay for college, or braces. When you need to attend a function where impression is really important, you could always get a sitter for the night.

    • Joe Daly says:

      Dennis, these are great points. Maybe she was from the planet Ork, where they age from adult to baby. In which case I’d still be bummed I missed her twenties. Oh well.

  9. Tawni says:

    The gym gas thing your date shared was exceptionally weird. Early in our relationship, my husband and I decided to preserve the mystery, rather than leave a bathroom door open, or share too much bodily function information. Once he watched me give birth, that cute little phase was long gone. But still. Not on the first date. Not even in the first six months.

    I got the willies reading about the baby talk. So creepy. Your cat allergy escape plan was brilliant. Nicely done. (:

    • Joe Daly says:

      Tawni, I always wondered how married couples navigated that delicate issue. So birth really does change everything? Good to know. 🙂 Thanks for the comments!

  10. Matt says:

    I’m going to send a link to this story to all of my friends and coworkers who insist I should give online dating a try. Because they honest truth is, I’ve NEVER heard any good stories from anyone who’s tried it.

    The gat-allergy out was brilliant, by the way. Way to snatch up that ball and run with it.

    Which piano bar in La Jolla were you headed for?

    • Joe Daly says:


      We were heading for Jack’s when it all went down. They used to have a jazz trio upstairs, I think to give the coked up people a cover for all their toe tapping. But alas, it’s no more! And yeah, for every one or two stories about people meeting their soul mates online there are five or six more that end in identity theft.

  11. Richard Cox says:

    “…what shocked me was that out of all her first date selling points, the one she would choose to showcase was the supernatural pungency of her backdoor breeze.”

    Now, that is gold. This whole piece had me laughing. Hilarious.

    But WTF on the baby talk? When I read the title, I thought your date was going to tell you how much she was ready to have a baby. Never in my wildest dreams did I think you meant she talked like a baby. The world really is a strange place.

  12. Funny, my initial reactions were pretty much opposite to yours; if I came across a profile called HARDBODY_whatever I’d next them straight away. (Apparently next is a verb now. Something to do with

    But the fart talk – I’d find that hilarious. Although it sounds like she was really into it…and then the baby thing. Holy. Truly astonishing – and yes, I too would have got out of there as quickly as possible. Your cat allergy ploy was brilliant, and not immature at all – especially compared to your date’s bizarre behaviour.

    I’ve been on maybe fifteen internet dates and run into a couple of those misrepresentative types, ones who’ve used a few too many MySpace-angle or close-up shots; I don’t understand what they’re hoping for.

    Even those dates were enjoyable, though. Two people, hanging out, good stuff. I think I’m the only person with anything positive to say about online dating…except, of course, for fifteen women who had this one date with this one guy…

    • Joe Daly says:


      You’re dead on about the close-up technique. It is a dead giveaway. Also popular, but distressing for other reasons, are the shots of the girls in the oversized Fruit of the Loom t-shirt, taking their own picture in their bathroom mirror. From what my gal pals tell me, guys are just as bad with the parade of shirtless photos.

      But at the end of the day, I agree that just a normal, run-of-the-mill date, with or without chemistry, can be a nice change of pace. Thanks for the comments!

  13. Simon Smithson says:


    Oh, man. Perfect. So perfect. God, how I wish I could have seen your facial expressions as the wheels turned in the background.

    How terrible is the baby talk thing? I mean, why? Why would you do that? What’s the thought process involved here?

    People are so weird. And for that reason, I feel OK laughing at situations like this.

    • Joe Daly says:


      I think one of the scarier aspects to the situation was not the absence of a thought process, but rather that she did not turn on the baby talk without some sort of evaluation of me. I must have given off some sign that pre-school chat was a huge turn on or something.

      If we can’t laugh at stuff like this, then the crazy people have won.

      Thanks for the comments!

  14. Nancy Caruso says:

    LOVED IT…….excellent piece! You are soo talented and OMG about the date…dang, and it hasn’t killed your dating spirit yet! I am dying to see what this baby talk gal is up to now? Maybe with a baby talking dude who digs on her gas problem! HAHA…good job my friend, good job!

  15. Judy Prince says:

    Great stuff, Joe! You got me early, and I screeched at this: “My relief at seeing my date wasn’t because she was attractive, but rather because she did not look like she had just emerged from Middle Earth.” It just kept getting weirder and funnier. Loved your closing sentence, too. Time to try offline dating.

  16. Joe Daly says:

    Thanks, Judy! Consider your advice taken- it’s the offline (a.k.a. “the real”) world for me from here on in! Thanks for the comments!

    • Judy Prince says:

      I’m sure you’ll find some equally nutty folk offline, too, Joe–and then you’ll have more TNB stories!

      You’re getting some great advice/suggestions in these TNBers’ comments. I rather enjoyed Amanda’s response to your wondering about a definite sign for whether “it” will work out: “A special smoke signal in the key of “dog whistle” that only ok people can hear…its pitch inaudible to anyone who is simply excellent at “good-date”-presenting, rather than being truly a good-date-in-reality.”

      Idea: You could work up bookmarks printed with stories of past weird dates, and hand a couple to your “new date”.

      I’m totally convinced that benignly odd/weird behaviour is way worth doing on dates. What does anybody have to lose, after all? That is, if you’ve established from the git that you’re not paying for the meal. G’on witcha, then! 😉

  17. Lec says:

    JD, Did you get her squat workout?

  18. Slade Ham says:

    How unbelievably awkward. I can hardly wrap my head around anything resembling a formal date anymore. You’ve explained why beautifully. I need to be able to walk away at any second… not have to wait until dinner is over and fake an allergic reaction. Geez, man. Well played.

    • Joe Daly says:

      You’re so dead on about the need to be able to escape at any given moment. If you have an iPhone, there’s an app called “Fake Caller,” which you can configure to look like you’re getting a real call from someone. You can set it to ring in a matter of seconds, or schedule it to ring at any given time. I find that when you answer the fake call, if your first words are, “My God, is he ok?!” then you’re home free. FYI!

      Jesus, maybe instead of devising intricate exit strategies, I should just make better choices. One of these days I’m going to take a look at that.

      • Slade Ham says:

        I have long since perfected the art of faking a phone call. Now that phones vibrate, all I have to do is pull it out and start talking. I’ve never ended a date that way, though I use it religiously in bars or clubs when I’ve been cornered by someone I’d rather not talk to. It’s my favorite move.

  19. Lili Zafar says:

    Hi Joe,
    This is one of the weirdest stories I have hears. It is funny and scarring at the same time.
    Now you know why I do not date on internet. There are some crazy ones out there.
    Hope all is well with you my friend.

    • Joe Daly says:

      Thanks, Lili! I think that ultimately, my dogs are the beneficiaries of my internet dating experiences, because now I choose to just stay home with them. And then I get to buy guitars and plane tickets with the money I don’t spend on crazy people! 🙂

      Hope to see you soon!

  20. Holy shit!

    That is so heinous it spectacular. Internet dating is for retards. I’m glad you escaped relatively unscathed and fart free.

    • Retards? That’s a pretty broad condemnation.

      • Yeah, it is. But it may make you feel better to know that I’m prancing among them. I just don’t speak of my internet dating experience because the guy who I was seeing and going on tons of cool vacations with and hanging out with his friends, kind of forgot to mention, as did his friends, that he had a wife and three kids.

        She contacted me.

        So maybe I’m projecting.

        • Although, I don’t ever recall him farting. So there is an upside.

        • Slade Ham says:

          That’s a shitty turn, Megs. Can we all just agree that dating, online or not, is rarely as awesome as people pretend it to be.

          Three kids. Geez.

        • Oh Slade,

          This actually isn’t a woe is me story. The full story so fucking hilarious it’s unreal. I just have never been able to tell it in a public forum because I feel bad for his wife.

          I’ll give you the skinny over some whiskey while we get tattooed.

        • It’s funny what people choose not to put in their profile. Maybe he forgot. Three kids, though? As Lady Bracknell would say, “To forget two children, Mr Worthing*, may be regarded as a misfortune; to forget three – EPIC FAIL.”

          *not his real name

        • Joe Daly says:


          That is indeed a nightmare. I would love to know how she busted him. Checking his phone? Surfing online dating profiles and found him? A traitor among his friends? I’m guessing that his hubris at thinking he could pull it off without you knowing was overcome only by a colossal lack of common sense on his part. Congrats on coming out of it with no legal ramifications, a good story, and apparently a nice vacation or two.

          And Steve- what people choose to omit in their profile is astounding. I have a special fondness for the ones who list their age as thirtysomething, and then the first line of their profile reads (almost always in all caps): “I’M REALLY 46 BUT MY FRIENDS ALL SAY I LOOK LIKE I’M 23” or something to that effect. Sigh…

        • Well, I wasn’t the only one. But she found me through a social networking site and when she tried to start a vague yet prying dialog for things she was suspecting, I gave her my number and told her everything.

          It was long since over, and I had nothing to hide.

  21. Slade Ham says:

    It is on. I just found out I’m gonna be in Colorado Springs somewhere in April/May. Maybe if my schedule works out… I LOVE trainwreck relationship stories, obviously.

  22. Yo widdoh bebe gool says:

    Aww Joey Woey, me said I was sowwy aboat my widdoh kitty making you sneezy weezy.

  23. Karen says:

    Damn, you are one fantastic writer Joe! I don’t know how close to reality the film in my head was, but I had a movie reel playing of your Mys(t)ery Date* as I read your words. Creepy, but good stuff!!

    *Remember that game?

    p.s. What’s the deal with all the light sabers in the avatars?

  24. Joe Daly says:

    Thanks, Karen! I don’t remember Mystery Date, but I do confess to being an avid fan of the “Blind Date” reality dating show from a few years back. My DVR is set to record all episodes. It is a supremely guilty pleasure.

    No idea about the light sabers. As the new guy around here, I’m just sort of nodding and smiling, like it all makes perfect sense to me. 🙂

  25. Alison Aucoin says:

    THIS is why I don’t do internet dating. The cat allergy was genius. A little too genius… Perhaps you are an evil genius.

    • Joe Daly says:

      Uh oh… BUSTED! But to be fair, I’m really just an evil smart ass. If I ever had any genius in me, several years of rugby and ice hockey have knocked it right out.

      Still, how in the world did men and women meet BEFORE the Internet?

  26. angela says:

    oh my lord, you made me laugh out loud several times, and now everyone in this border’s cafe thinks i’m crazy.

    that is just about the worst internet date i’ve heard. tops my friend’s recent date with an aspy who apparently had a coupon for everything and then tried to hit on him in the men’s room. my worst one involved a guy about 10 years older than his picture, complete with untrimmed ear and nose hair, and a fanny pack, and who asked me repeatedly to do an imitation of my grandmother (i put it under “why you should get to know me” or whatever, but come on! let go!).

  27. Joe Daly says:

    A fanny pack? I just shuddered. A fanny pack is recognized by the AMA as a sign of crazy. That and jogging in jeans. If you ever encounter someone jogging in jeans or wearing a fanny pack, be calm, don’t make eye contact, and get the hell out.

    Glad you made it out alive!

  28. Greg Olear says:

    At least you didn’t take her to the All-Bean Cafe…

  29. Kerry Wall says:

    Hey Joe,

    Good material for a sit-com. Keep to the online dating, because this stuff couldn’t be made up. You’ll have all the more stories to share.

    Enjoy the weather.

    Kerry Wall

  30. sean says:

    why’d you leave out the sex part?

  31. M.J. Fievre says:

    Haha, you’re very funny, Joe. I couldn’t stop laughing. Very good read. Haha.

  32. Laura says:

    OMFG! You reminded me of this date I had many years ago. I had already met the guy, and he was handsome, smart, and articulate, and a really nice guy. After a lovely dinner, we sat on a park bench to talk. Suddenly, he said, “Okay, now you can touch me, but I can’t touch you. You can kiss me, but I can’t kiss you. You can do whatever you want, and I have to do it.” Me: Silence, mouth probably agape. (Honestly, I’m chatty, and it’s hard to stump me.) Me, finally: “Um, well, okay, um, I should get home.” Luckily, the park we were sitting in was close to my apartment.

    I must say, I was glad he let THAT cat out of the bag on the first date, so I didn’t waste any more time on a man who was clearly not my type!

    • Joe Daly says:


      That is super creepy! Wish I could have seen your expression when he introduced you to his little game. I’m honestly baffled at how a lot of guys make that move. Not that I’m the smoothest cat around- you could make a long and painful gag reel of all my awkward first moves, but your date is the kind of guy who sets the rest of us back!

      Little did he know that his idea of flirting was actually a warning sign. Thanks for reading!

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