I'm sure it's not the worst date in the history of western civilization, but it was the worst I have ever had. Since I'm sure you are all sitting on the edge of your seats, waiting for me to weave my tale - here it is. And by the way, this is a true story.
She seemed normal to me. That should have been my first clue that something must be horribly wrong. But alas, hoping for the best, I went out with her, not knowing the sheer peril that I would be in store for. I could tell that she liked to talk. That's fine. I also realized almost immediately that she could cuss the wallpaper off a wall, and seemed to enjoy doing so. Being the extremely bright person that I am, I very quickly realized that it would be an interesting evening. Well, she started talking. Her first topic of conversation was her previous boyfriend that she had dated for 6 months. A tiny red flag went off. "Hmmm... she's talking about her previous boyfriend on our first time together. Interesting..." I thought. She began to go into great detail... great detail, about the things they did together (if you can catch what I'm saying here). And then she got visibly mad as she explained to me that her boyfriend's WIFE "had the nerve" to call her at work and tell her to stop dating her husband. She got a puzzled look on her face and said to me, "If she doesn't want her husband dating me, then she needs to talk to him, not to me." Ahem. Anyway... my comfort factor was making a nosedive like an airplane that has lost both wings.
So, I deftly tried to change the subject to something else, anything else. "So, what else is going on in your life, besides this?" Heh, that was pretty smooth, you think? Well, she then started a new topic of conversation. She began talking about all the anti-psychotic prescription drugs that her doctor has her on. (ACK!) She talked about her... episodes. I'll politely spare you some of the details here. All I can think of is the phrase, "Danger Will Robinson! Danger!"
By this time, I'm scanning the room, looking for the nearest escape. You've read about the "fight or flight" phenomenon in biology class? Case in point here. I'm keeping my eyes on my butter knife, in case I need to use it to defend myself if she really goes crackers on me.
Right then, her cell phone rang. She answered. She started yelling at the guy on the phone. After a 30 second argument, she hung up on him. "Oh, that was just my husband," she said. (Obviously, I had no clue she was married.)
Well now....
OK, now I was scanning the room, looking for hidden cameras. I was sure that any second, some TV producer would jump up behind me and say, "Congratulations, Steve. You're on Candid Camera!" Quickly, the realization sunk in that this was not Candid Camera. This was a real crazed psycho demon-chick sitting at the table with me, with a soup spoon and two very sharp forks easily within her grasp.
I knew what I had to do. I still can't believe that I actually did thus, but under the circumstances, I couldn't think of anything else. I grabbed my cell phone and pretended I had a call. I put my cell phone to my ear and faked a conversation, "Hello. Hey Chris.... The web site is down? Did you reboot WebLogic... What's the database load... Fine, I'll be right there." I'm embarrassed to admit, but I pulled the ole fake-an-emergency-on-the-cellphone trick. I apologized, bolted from the table, and never looked back.