As students, we tend to think that our professors somehow skipped their teenage years and twenties and immediately grew into the wise, thought-provoking, homework-assigning people that stand before us in class each day. However, they too went through awkward teenage years, had crazy 21st birthdays, and pulled all-nighters studying for a big exam.
This also means that, although they did not have the aid of social media and dating apps, they were not immune to strange, silly, and downright terrible dating experiences.
Kevin Griffith:
“I guess my worst dating experience was way back when I was in college. I was dating someone whose family lived not too far from campus, so on our second date, she took me home to meet her father. Apparently, her father was very concerned about my relative ‘manliness,’ as he must have known I was an English major who wanted to be a poet.
“When we arrived at her house, the sound of enormous pops resounded from her basement. She led me downstairs, where her father was actually splitting firewood by shooting it with a .44 magnum revolver. Without a word, he handed the gun to me, and I knew that I had better hit the target. I accomplished the feat easily, as being a rural Michigan boy, I had shot many guns in my youth.
“When he shook my hand to congratulate me, though, apparently my handshake wasn’t firm enough for his tastes, so he spent the rest of the evening lecturing me about the importance of a firm handshake. My date and I became ‘just friends’ not long after.”
Alan Stam:
“I remember bits of an ‘interesting’ date the summer of my sophomore year in college.
“Small town, rural northern Wisconsin, Fourth of July night; I remember picking up my date about eight or so in the evening. Nothing memorable occurred until later when we were driving on a narrow, two-lane, rural road; I can’t remember where we were going or had been. My date asked me to stop the car. Once stopped, she got out of the car, bent over, and threw up. This wasn’t due to her feeling that this was a Worst Date—she mentioned she’d been drinking with friends before I showed up. Beer is a Fourth of July, northern-Wisconsin tradition.
“That put somewhat of a damper on the evening. I decided to turn the car around with a Y-turn, and in doing so backed up a bit too far–I did mention narrow road–and the car slid backwards into a steep ditch. With the car sitting at a substantial angle, its headlights shone up in the darkness toward Mars. We walked to a nearby farm, woke up the farmer, and he called a tow truck. Shortly a cop showed up, flashlighted the car, checked my license, wrote down some notes, and left. Eventually the tow truck arrived, and we set off toward her home.
“I guess what would make this an interesting story would be if I concluded by saying that I eventually married her … but that didn’t happen. Probably fortunately.”
