After spending some time on the other coast, I’ve realized that the dating scene – at least on surface level – looks different depending on what city you call home. New York and LA might as well exist on different planets.

But, there are two fundamental truths that ring true in both places: people (for the most part) just want to find someone to call their own, and that person will almost certainly not be found at a bar. This idea is hammered home this week by Matt from LA’s tale of dating gone wrong. I hope you enjoy it.

The Swap: “I don’t know if this story can technically be considered an ‘online dating’ horror story exactly, but since it started out that way I think it fits. I met this girl online and after emailing/talking on the phone for a week we decided to meet. She’d seemed cool right up until that point, but then when we finally had a conversation face to face it was just…crickets. She was cute but not terribly high energy and we were struggling to think of things to say. So, we parted ways early and my friends met me out to salvage the rest of the night.

Turns out I met another girl at the same bar later that night who seemed pretty cool (OK hot) and she was with some friends, but she promptly ditched them and we started taking shots. Second girl seemed normal enough, she told me she was in grad school, was 23 and had moved out here a year ago. We started talking about how bad my first date had gone and she and I hit it off comparing bad online dating experiences with each other. I guess we both got pretty drunk (at one point she disappeared for a half hour), but by the end of the night she and I left together and went back to my place.

We hooked up for a while back at my apartment and then she excused herself to use the bathroom. When she didn’t return right away I went to check on her and found her nodding off on the toilet (not hot, by the way). Even though she was embarrassed she came back into my room. Nothing kills the mood like seeing a girl with her pants around her ankles, things were pretty much done after that.

I must’ve passed out not long after, because when I woke up in the morning she was already gone. I guess at some point she must’ve migrated out of my bed to the family room, but I slept through it. I didn’t realize it until I headed to the kitchen and saw a huge wet stain on the cushions where the girl had obviously peed on my couch. Yup. What girl does that?! I also found out later that one of my friends made out with her at the bar accidentally before he realized that she’d been talking to me. She was coming out of the ladies room when it happened. Pretty sure that qualifies as a horror story in my book.”

Ohhhhh Matt… Where do I begin? Yes, that qualifies, you’re right. But here are my observations, in no particular order: 1) The girl you met online wasn’t terribly “high energy?” Totally fine if there’s no chemistry, but what were you expecting, cartwheels? 2) What 23-year-old has online dating stories to compare? That’s ridiculous, like those women on The Bachelor who say they’re looking for a husband straight out of college. Be young! Worry about the other stuff later.

Thirdly, her passing out in your bathroom should’ve been her cue to leave, not sure how one recovers from that frankly. 4) Destruction of property, albeit gross and alcohol-driven, usually warrants a stealthy escape, that’s hardly shocking – even I’d support it 5) Your friend “accidentally” made out with her? Sounds suspect to me 6) Why is this chick all about bathrooms? And why do so many of these stories involve peeing, while we’re at it? 7) Sounds to me like whatever bar you found this girl in wasn’t exactly going to yield you any classy or high caliber of woman (Not that any bar will, in my opinion).

If someone were inclined to say “I told you so,” (which I’d never do, of course) they might say that’s what you get for not setting the bar higher. Just a thought for next time. I realize sometimes you just want to go out and have a little fun, but if you end up with a pee-soaked couch and swapping hook up stories with your friends about the same girl in the same night, probably don’t be surprised. Better luck next time, man!THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID

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Cue Rebecca Black – it’s Friday again, kids. That means dating mishaps, awkward exchanges, and sometimes even downright mayhem. This time our tale of romantic woe comes courtesy of Melissa in Chicago (yes, another one NOT from NYC, woohooo!). Chi-town may seem like it’s overflowing with handsome young singles, but that doesn’t necessarily mean the pickings are any less slim.

Shawn, the real estate agent: “I had no idea when this date started that it would ever fall into the category of “horror story.” After finding this guy on a dating site and emailing for a few weeks, we decided to meet. First impressions: he was good looking, appeared normal and we had a great conversation over drinks in my neighborhood.

We talked for several hours and were being pretty flirty – all clear signs that we’d hit it off. So, by the end of the night I casually suggested that if he wanted to keep hanging out we could go crack a bottle of wine at my apartment, which was only a short walk from the bar. (Whatever, don’t judge me). He agreed, and on the way there he kissed me on the sidewalk – things were looking good.

Once we got to my place, that’s when things started to get weird. I cracked a bottle of red wine and while we were sitting on my couch he accidentally spilled some on his shirt. Actually, in hindsight I don’t know if it was an accident, but I’m getting ahead of myself…

He excused himself to go to my bathroom to try and blot it out, even after I’d offered him some club soda and was trying to help him. Struck me as kind of weird that a guy would care so much about a shirt when he was clearly about to get a little action, but I showed him where it was and waited for him to come out.

And waited. And waited…and waited. He was in there for over 25 minutes, and at various intervals I heard what sounded like him bumping into stuff and even falling down. I got up to ask if he was alright and he said yes, then came out for a few minutes flustered (and rumpled) and said “I need to make a call.” Then he went into my hallway to use his phone – and never came back. Yup, true story.

After I waited and realized he would not be returning (stunned disbelief would better describe it), I went into the bathroom to inspect it and try to figure out what the heck happened in there. This is what I saw: my shower towel crumpled on the floor and soaking wet, my bathrobe was thrown over the shower stall, the medicine cabinet was ajar and it looked like he’d rummaged through it (um, and he opened my Midol, which is so weird).

Also, there was a green stain – yes, green – on my wall and the whole place smelled like a mix between my perfume and mouthwash. Not sure if he’d had some…issues or what, but in the end I’m happy he didn’t stick around long enough for me to figure it out.”

Melissa: What. The. Eff. Not sure what to make of that either, but he might have just been trolling for drugs, or just flat out thought better of hooking up with you (sorry so harsh but I’ve heard of that happening before – and men fleeing). But if I were you I’d just want to know what the stain was on your wall (ew). As for me, I just want to know one thing: who wears a bathrobe anymore anyway?THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID

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