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From the time I was a very little girl, I dreamed of one day getting married. This is not unusual, as most little girls go to sleep at night with visions of big white dresses floating in their heads. What was different about me was that my fantasy never included a groom.
I never really understood why it was even necessary to have a groom for the wedding. Doesn't everyone know that wedding days are for the bride? But as I grew older, I understood that no one can be a bride without first finding a groom. And so, at the age of 14, I started dating. Surely I would find my future husband, put on the big white dress, and make adolescent fairy tales come true. I ran into dating with wide-open arms, sure that on my first try I would find The One.
Then, several years later, I turned 20. Prince Charming had not yet come to find me, but hope springs eternal. I was still dating, still hopeful, still looking forward to the Big Day. My single-minded obsession with married life would not be denied. I would date, and I would marry. It would happen.
I accepted dates and invitations from any candidate that seemed even somewhat likely. No stone unturned, right? You never know where romance might blossom. At that time, I was working as a leasing agent at an apartment complex. When one of the painters invited me to the lake for the weekend, I accepted. I'd never been to the lake before. It seemed an original enough date idea. And I certainly loved dating.
So I outfitted myself in an adorable black and white shorts and tank top outfit and waited for him to pick me up. I even made sandwiches. After all, there are no restaurants at the lake, right?
He arrived, and we were off. My date at the lake had officially begun, I'd lathered myself up with sunscreen, and I was ready to go. We drove for about two hours (being in a fairly land-locked city, as it were) and finally arrived at the glittering, beautiful expanse of shining water.
"We're here." He smiled at me.
"It's beautiful," I said as I bounded out of the car. What would the day bring? What sort of things does one do at the lake, on a date?
Together, we walked toward a campsite. And suddenly, without warning, I was thrown into what was obviously a weekend-long family event. The first things I saw were children. They ran around me in a quick circle. I jumped back and re-surveyed the site. I saw a large camper, two tents that had been erected, a pickup truck. And seven adults, gathered around a grill in lawn chairs. As I walked up, one of the children squirted me -- right in the face -- with his water gun.
My big date at the lake started to take on a whole new hue. I tucked my purse near the camper and settled myself near the grill with the other adults. After all, what if it was a family event? He wouldn't have invited me if it wasn't okay, right?
I introduced myself and learned right away that I was not even in the presence of my date's family, but that of his best friend. Though it seemed strange to me, I was willing to play along. Ten minutes after arriving, my date disappeared with his friend.
I was alone. With the family of strangers. And their watergun-toting kids. They offered me a hot dog. I smiled and explained that I don't eat meat. One of the women looked at me and, with surprise, asked, "You don't eat meat?" I nodded.
That was the end of any conversation-making. They started to talk amongst themselves. My date re-appeared, but then wandered off with some of the men at the campsite. The air turned a little cooler, and I'd left my sandwiches in the car. My date -- wherever he was -- had the keys with him. Someone's child started asking me questions. I looked over my shoulder -- still no sign of my date.
Hours passed, and a touch football tournament was arranged. I opted not to participate (not being very sports-minded), and sat in the grass watching them all cavort. The air turned even colder, the sun started to sink, and my spirits lifted. Soon, very soon, this debacle of a date would be over.
Sure, I'd been on bad dates before. You don't date for six years without running into a few trolls, right? I could handle this. After all, it was all almost over. So I'd been falsely led into a family affair when I was expecting a romantic getaway for two. But that's one of the risks of dating, right? All I had to do was be patient, wait for it to end, and never, ever go on a date with this one again.
My date finally turned up at the end of the football tournament, this time drunk. He smelled like beer and wore a goofy grin. It was twilight and now very cold by the lake. I realized, with one look at my date's condition and a quickly-sinking heart, that this date wasn't yet over. Not by a long shot. Not now, when he couldn't even take me home. He was in no condition to drive, but I was in no condition to wait. Did he not realize how uncomfortable and lonely I was?
Apparently not, as a few minutes later he was gone again. For a place that seemed to have little more than grass, water, and a lot of people, this guy was finding lots of places to go.
I was trapped. At the lake. In the middle of a family get-together with a family that I didn't even know. On a date with a guy who hadn't said 10 words to me the entire time. Two hours away from home. And...it was cold. I was underdressed. As I walked toward the bathroom facility, which was a lot more like a string of outhouses thrown together, I saw a skunk.
Oh, how I missed the city. This was not to be borne. I squared my shoulders and set my jaw. I was an independent woman, after all -- I didn't need this. I could find plenty of dates who wouldn't ignore me. I wasn't going to take this anymore. With these thoughts in mind, I bravely found and confronted my date. When could I expect to go home?
"I'm not leaving until tomorrow."
That settled that. I was going to have to get a ride. This date was more than over. So, I found a pay phone and called my brother (all brothers exist to help their single sisters in times of dating trouble). It took 20 minutes for me to try to explain where I was. You see, I was unfortunately born without any sense of direction at all. And after all, what did I know about the lake? I'd never been there before.
I desperately tried to give my brother some sense of my location -- "No, I think it's west of the city." My date was unavailable for comment, and I felt like crying. Finally my brother said not to worry about it, he'd find me.
"What's the name of the place, again?" He asked, just before hanging up.
I sat near the phone, now terrified that he would never find me. I would be stuck here until tomorrow, and even then there were no guarantees. My date was acting like he had no desire to leave, and this family was obviously in it for the long haul. What if I never saw the city again?
When my brother finally arrived four hours later, tears immediately came to my eyes. I'd been rescued. The Worst Date Ever ... was over. I grabbed my purse from where I'd stuffed it under the camper, waved good-bye, and climbed inside my brother's waiting car.
My date at the lake was over. Finally. I breathed a sigh of relief and leaned against the back seat of my brother's car. "Thank you," I said gratefully. "Sorry you got lost." My brother and his friends assured me they'd actually had a good time, getting lost and looking for this strange lake out in the middle of nothing. I didn't really believe him, but thought it was nice he would lie so sweetly.
When we stopped off at the store so that I could get more cigarettes (the single girl's pick-me-up), I found out I'd been robbed. All my cash had been taken.
I considered it another casualty of dating. After all, I'd escaped the lake more or less unscathed. It was three in the morning, and I'd learned a valuable lesson. Surely that was worth my measly 35 bucks.
I never accepted another date to any lake, or indeed any location outside my own city, ever again. In fact, I never accepted another date from any painters. That night, I slept in my own bed in the city, away from grills and hot dogs, children with squirt guns, and bad dates that get drunk and ignore you. For once, I didn't dream of white dresses and wedding bells. Maybe being single wasn't so bad, after all.
By KC Morgan (KCMorgan)
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