Love! It is not for the faint of heart. What is it about l'amour that drives the "males" among us to hand out eerily-worded business cards to strange women on the street—to revel in our passive-aggression, trying to simultaneously embrace and flee from love's awkward embrace, by passing some kind of love note thing, which never works? It is a mystery. All we know, ladies, is this: more of your very own, very true, bad love connection stories are below. To Cupid's Garden!
Sex and the City, alcoholism, and generational differences are a powerful love potion.
I worked in a high end movie theater in SF that served drinks and meals you could enjoy while watching a film. As expected, Sex and the City became a huge draw for alcoholic middle aged women. I had just swept up the theater after a Saturday evening performance when a woman (a usual customer) in her early 50's approached me (I was 18 at the time). She asked me first if I was a man to which I replied I sure hope so, confused and scared. She asked me what time I got off work and if I liked Sex and the City. I told her that I was closing late (I wasn't) and that I hated Sex and the City(which I do). I exited the theater and guest area into a back hallway that only staff were permitted to be, so that I could send a text to my waiting girlfriend that I would be leaving work shortly. The woman in the theater followed me back there. I immediately told her that she wasn't supposed to be back there where upon she reached down and grabbed my crouch. She told me to not be a pussy then burped so loud that it echoed all the way down the hallway. I told the woman to wait one minute for me, that I had to do something. I left and never saw her in our theater again.
Applebee's: where young lesbian love blooms, like whatever the Applebee's version of a bloomin' onion is.
Many of my weirdest stories in life come from the 2.5 year period when I waitressed at an Applebee's in suburban New Jersey to help pay for college. As you can imagine, as a 19 year old nerd spending my summer, winter and spring breaks trying to earn money for textbooks and study abroad, I did not have a lot in common with my fellow "Apple Buddies" beyond a heavy dose of self pity.
A 27 year old coworker attempting community college for the third time did take an interest in me, mostly to share excitement with someone over enjoying classic literature for the first time - Dante! Who knew? I found our conversations harmless, amusing and a bit encouraging, and they eventually branched out to movies and contemporary literature. I sometimes brought up boys in passing, and things seemed perfectly fine and platonic. At my coworker's insistence, I agreed to watch "Requiem for a Dream," and the DVD appeared the next day.
When I opened the DVD, there was a folded sheet of paper and a Monopoly thimble. Confused, I tried to return the lost thimble to my coworker. "It's symbolic," was my hint. I couldn't think of any movie we'd discussed with a thimble, but then it dawned on me. "The only thimble I can remember from a movie is in 'Peter Pan,' and it symbolizes a kiss. But THAT would be weird." My coworker mumbled and disappeared.
Ten minutes later, my coworker reappeared and told me not to read the note in the DVD, cause it got a little "flirtatious." "Jen, why would you give me a note if you didn't want me to read it?" Oh yes, my coworker was a 27 year old woman.
Of course I read the note, and it was the weirdest effing thing of my life. The first half quoted Dante on Helen of Troy, the sonnet about "her gracious lips," and the second half quoted Maroon 5. Yep, "I don't mind spending every day / out on the corner in the pouring rain." That one. Then, I made the mistake of watching "Requiem for a Dream," which, incidentally, is not a great movie to watch if you are already feeling creeped out and violated.
I promptly returned the DVD and made a point to not give off any misleading vibes for the rest of the summer. At some point, she got another DUI so couldn't get to work anymore anyway. When I went back to Boston in the fall, I got to show off my new thimble and the first love letter I ever received - from my creepy, 27 year old female coworker at Applebee's.
I was handed this by a very nicely dressed older gentlemen while I was walking home from the office. I started laughing, took a photo and then threw it away, and I'm fairly sure he saw me do all three things.
You don't even need your own business cards to not get a date.
I was walking around downtown/financial district when a man walked up to me and said excuse me. I thought he was going to ask for directions, but instead he handed me a business card and walked away. The card was for classical guitar lessons. However, written in the blank space of the card was "I like you. You very pretty girl. If you want to be my friend, please call [phone number]." The phone number written did not match the contact number for classical guitar lessons. I guess I got a recycled business card?
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