Terrible Ideas for First Dates:
Poor Viktor and Irina in FROM RUSSIA WITH FANGS. Their first unofficial outing as a couple is to Irina’s horrible husband’s funeral. Their first real date is going to the ballet with her nosy family. They just can’t catch a break. So we wanted to come up with a list of worse options than what we put our poor characters through.
Mini-golf – Mini-golf never goes as smoothly and you think it will. There’s always some family with four kids in front of you, holding you up or behind you, rushing you through. And then you add multiple tripping hazards, possibly slick surfaces and competition, plus the possibility of a giant plaster clown. And then you give your date a club. This is not a good idea.
Any form of camping –A lot of people enjoy camping and a lot of people are good at keeping up the polite façade necessary to keep a first date comfortable at the same time. There aren’t a lot of people who are good at doing those two things at the same time. You do not want to find out whether you get along while you’re isolated, without access to emergency personnel or witnesses. That is how Lifetime movies start.
Shooting range – I think I’ve made my stance on “not arming someone until you’re sure they’re compatible with you and not insane” pretty clear.
Strip club—I should NOT have to explain why this is not a good idea.
Cooking class—I know this sounds benign. However, you would be so, so very wrong to make this a first date. You don’t know each other all that well (I’m assuming) and you have to cooperate in making a dish the both of you will eat. Knives are probably involved. You see where I’m going with this? The possibility of food being flung, feelings being hurt, and a crappy meal being cooked are way too high. Just order a pizza and watch a movie. You’ll thank me later.
Open mic poetry night—I am a judgey person, I’m not gonna lie. So if some guy asked me out and then took me to an open mic poetry night (especially if it is to hear him read there), my first thought is going to be pretentious, hipster dipshit. My idea of a good time does not consist of listening to angsty young adults talking about their childhood trauma of not getting a puppy when they were five. And it certainly isn’t listening to my date’s breakup with the love of his life set to Zamfir and his pan flute. The only way this would be an acceptable first date is if he took me to an open mic night, got up to read, and ended up reciting Mike Myer’s ex-girlfriend poems from So I Married an Axe Murderer. Then I’d probably marry that dude.
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