The only thing better than one bad date, is TWO.

  Two bad date great stories, from Lauren:

One:

It was one of those nights--and we've all had them--when I just got way too stoned. A group of friends--including the guy I had gone on a few dates with--went out to eat. I just remember sitting there and thinking I literally can not speak. Words could not come out of my mouth. I could feel him watching me as I picked at some french fries. Then I realized I also couldn't understand the words coming out of his mouth. All I could understand was something about refrigerators. He could fix refrigerators? I'd like a man who could fix refrigerators. I wished I could tell him this, but I was too damn high.

Two:

It was my first OK Cupid date [editor's note: We can probably end there.] We met at a diner. A real diner. But I was clearly dressed for one of those Brooklyn diners--the kind that have "diner" in the name, but really they have cloth napkins. Conversation was awful. It started with him telling me, "I hate beaches." Well, I'm from California. I plan to raise my children in the water. After fifteen minutes, I had to pull one of those moves, call my friend from the bathroom and tell her to call me back in five minutes with an "emergency." The date was so terrible, I didn't feel bad about about leaving "to help my friend" before the end of dinner.