I'm not a big fan of blind dates, but one year in college it seemed my friends were all about hooking me up. I met a lot of nice guys with whom I still talk. However, there was this one guy. ... My friend had told me that he and I had so much in common that we should hang out. So she gave me his number and, after many nights spent talking to him on the phone, I was ready for a date. We had planned for a casual night at a pool hall, a coffee shop, and possibly a movie after he showed me around the city. So I left the suite looking "fab," and he looked great, too. In the beginning, he was the complete gentleman, a real sweetie. Everything seemed to be going well; we looked cute, he was so nice, conversation was good. I didn't think things would go so bad. When we got to the pool hall, he was very suave, with his own stick and carrying case. I mean, I've played before, but he seemed to be quite serious about the game. We start shooting some pool, and it must have been beginner's luck, because I won. I won the second game as well. Soon enough, we had spectators watching us play. I did lose the third game. But you know, I think I honestly killed his ego--which turned him into Mr. Jerk. He wasn't sweet anymore, he didn't open doors for me, and we had no conversation. No longer talking, we left the pool hall for the coffee shop. The whole ride there was just weird. Every 5 minutes he asked me what I was thinking about. I was getting very annoyed. When we got to the coffee shop, I thought things would get better, but they didn't. So I made up this lame excuse about how the smoke at the pool hall had made me sick to my stomach and I wanted to go home. On the way home, he took me by another route and stopped the car. I had no idea where I was. I wasn't that familiar with the city yet, so I was trusting him to take me home. Needless to say, he started the car up and took me back to my dorm. I haven't talked to him since then. That was the first and last time that I have been treated like that on a date.
— Macy, 20