I’ve never been in a situation where I’ve ditched my date at a restaurant—although there were certainly times when it would have been appropriate.

(See: The date where this guy horrifyingly pissed off every server and bartender we encountered.)

If I did get the balls to leave a date midway through, I feel like I’d get the most satisfaction from sneaky leaving; like, saying I’m going to the bathroom and never come back.

Because then I could think about his face when he slowly realizes that he was indeed, ditched.

Plus, I’m pretty sure if I made a dramatic “I’m leaving!” display at the table, cruel fate would embarrass me on the way out.





I’ve only written about one date walk-out: My twin sister, Joy, who walked out on a guy who ASKED OUT THE SERVER.

His response: “What? Am I being a dick?”



(Face palm)

TODAY I’d like to talk about date walk-out #2.

It’s a little less dramatic, but equally as douchey.

My friend Rayne had just moved to Los Angeles, and thought a good way to meet people would be online dating.

…Until she actually tried online dating.


Greg, a “match,” was incredibly good-looking and a super successful tech guy, and boasted about it.

Rayne said she wasn’t feeling his overall vibe, although he did pick a very cool restaurant to meet.

They talked about basic stuff—where they were from, what they did for a living, where they went to school, blah blah.

Then Greg told her that a super cool thing about living in Los Angeles was that he had a perfectly legal medical marijuana card, and a whole lot of weed.

“After dinner, do you want to come back to my place and smoke some?” he asked.

Rayne, who didn’t mind his lifestyle, but told him that no, she didn’t go to stranger’s houses. Especially ones she met online, no offense.

(Also, she wasn’t that into him.)

Greg frowned and glossed over it.

Dinner came and went, and Rayne said it remained OK, but she didn’t like his cocky attitude about everything. She had already decided she wouldn’t be going out with him again.

“So…” Greg said as the meal was finishing up. “Have you thought anymore (in the last 30 minutes) about coming over?”

“No,” Rayne said, trying to be casual. “I’m not going to a stranger’s house.”

That’s when Greg lost it, as most good-looking men do when they are turned down.

“You know, a LOT of girls would love to be in your position,” he said.


“What?” Rayne asked.

“I’m just saying, a lot of girls would love to be asked to come over to my place.”


(Face palm.)

“Oh, well, then you should find them,” Rayne said.

(ED note: That was seriously supposed to change her mind?? Fictitious girls who were so desperate to be invited to his house that he had to resort to online dating???)

Rayne excused herself to go to the bathroom and…!!!!!….instead SNUCK OUT THE BACK DOOR.




“I mean, why the hell should I have stayed just to have him guilt me into coming over to his house and smoking his weed?” Rayne reasoned.

About 15 minutes later, in an Uber getting farther and farther away from the restaurant, Greg called and texted her incessantly with “where did u go? Are u ok?”

Once she got safely back to her apartment, Rayne told him she had left and that she was OK, and then came the inevitable string of texts from Greg calling her a bitch.



Uhhh, chill out, Cheech

Rayne said it was thrilling to walk out on him, the cocky a-hole who only wanted her to come back to his place.

But the next day was equally as gratifying when Greg woke up and changed his attitude, apologizing and begging her to go out with him again.


GAW, imagine the number of girls who wished they were her NOW!


She told him no, of course.

Because SHE doesn’t have short-term memory loss.


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