Until the morning played the “Dandy”. Readers of “Medusa” talk about bad dates

Until the morning played the “Dandy”. Readers of “Medusa” talk about bad dates

A few days before Valentine’s Day “Medusa” asked readers to social networks to share stories about bad dates. Most of the stories came anonymously in our telegram: some were funny, ironic, sad and terrifying. We chose stories about the worst dates, and published them with minor corrections. Good Valentine’s day!


I liked the girl. We almost met. The case remained for small. I invited her to a restaurant. “McDonald’s”. At that time it was incredibly cool — the only “Mac” in the city. Everything was going great, but then she noticed her friends and said that I would have a chat with them and come back. She didn’t return. And I decided that the best way — just go. But then I came up with a terrible idea to force self-pity. I called my friend and asked him to play along. I said that she was attacked, and I heroically saved her at the cost of numerous injuries. So, after securing an alibi, I went to punch me and get dirty.

After 40 minutes I went back to McDonalds and told the sad story about how a friend called me and I saved her. Told that I have a broken rib. I broke a rib, why not. Didn’t believe me and I offered to call the one I saved. Call.

The story is the same, but with one exception: in the history of friend she was attacked by three, and in my six people.

I never wrote to this girl. I’m so ashamed.

Innokenty Filimonov

Since my childhood I was carried away with the whole medieval thing. I had a great, smart, just incredibly powerful wooden bow. I have three seasons a year go on the football field and practiced target shooting.

One tip I have was made from a pushpin, the other three were with rubber tips. One autumn day, I was 15, I was shooting and noticed a closer look at yourself. She watched with such interest that I couldn’t come. We got to talking. She said that I am a good shot. Called me Robin hood and joked how it would be nice if there was the same Sherwood defender, who was able to protect her. It unsettled me, but I still decided to ask her to meet again tomorrow at the same place. I’d love to show her how to shoot a bow. She agreed.

The next day the weather was good. We started training I showed her the rack, like pull the string, and so on.

Everything was fine, but then she directly asked, and if I could have just as aptly to shoot at people?

I said, “No, it’s not good, and why?” The answer, apparently, not much, but I did not attach much importance. I also sometimes thought about how I hit enemies with arrows! And then she said, “How would you protect me? Would you run away from bullies and gave them back like a real Robin hood? You have the guts!”.

I always remember this phrase: “Guts”. Still don’t understand why I freaked, but I decided that to prove his bravery — a matter of honor. I was angry, but said nothing, and she went to the tree to retrieve the arrow with a sharp tip. The bow was from me. Perhaps, I thought, “Now here Whistler over her ear my arrow and she will understand that I am not a wimp!”.

I hit her in the head. The tip was rubber, but that didn’t help. The blow was a point, she was bleeding, but the wound, fortunately, was not too serious — she had a little cut through the skin.

She left, cursing me. We never saw each other.

Konstantin Zhuravlev

Nineties. I met a girl. To date approached thoroughly: bought new linens, clean tablecloth — white as snow. Not lazy to drive on the Petrograd quay in cognac, a sponge cake “Napoleon”, removed from friends ‘ safe house. Late in the evening. The girl desperately smoked tobacco. Said French cognac smells like bedbugs. Found in the host’s fridge an opened bottle of vodka, drank it and wailing on some guy’s goat and went to sleep, extinguish the last cigarette out on the tablecloth.

I am played “Dandy” under the brandy and a peaceful snore tired lady.NewsSex outside of time, or How to keep the passion for life

Katya Kats

February 14, a young man asked me out on a date at the monument between 6-7 lines, Vasilievsky island. I came looking, no one start calling, saying, where is the Prince, and in return you get something unintelligible.

The only thing I understood — he was in a bar and buys sugar for the horse.

20 minutes later (it’s cold outside) this drunk a miracle is coming with flowers on the white horse, which is no less sober a lady and drives past me.


Initiated the first kiss was me. Him so much opened his mouth that he snapped the jaw.

A first date spent in hospital. The third year together.


I was involved in drama club and my mentors, actors from our local theatre, was able to get free tickets for any performance. At that time I just started to chat with one, as I thought, and spiritual values cultural pastime special, so going to the theater, in my opinion, could not be better.

I read in some article on the pickup, that on the second date needed light tactile contact. And I had a brilliant plan: during some particularly meaningful moment casually put his hand on the arm of my companion. I asked for two tickets from their mentors and waited for the day of the show. And then came the big night, we go to the theater. She was in evening dress, all so loving art and everything connected with it, and I can say the actor of the same theatre, who managed to get tickets to a cool play that is extremely difficult to get into. In General, in her eyes at that moment I was the perfect man.

But everything radically changed when it turned out that the tickets we sit on two side chairs on opposite sides of the hall.The selection of theOdd couple: 15 touching films about unusual lovers

Mikhail Sarkulov

Met a beautiful girl online, agreed to ride these bikes at the Piskaryovskoye cemetery. I put on my best sports clothes, got a haircut, showered, and put it in the backpack I felt normal brandy. Prepared in General. Met in the evening. She was a real hottie, and here I am — a dumb chump. Conversation was not glued completely.

After half an hour of dull pauses and labored jokes. on my bike flies off the chain. And its a wedge so that it is impossible to wear the star. Home 15 miles, no instruments. My clothes and hands in oil, in the eyes of despair. What really is cognac. She looked at all this, drew conclusions, and silently went home. I trudged three hours with the wounded horse on the shoulder and a quarter-liter bottle in hand, cursing myself and her.

Now it looks perfect in 35 years and raising three of our children.

On bikes and ride often.