And the winners are......

The Half-Mind Catalog’s Worst Date Catalog was an opportunity for you, our readers, to provide us with entertainment at your expense. And you didn’t disappoint! While we’ve all had bad dates, these contributions really stood out. All the contestants were hashers. In many cases, identities were withheld to protect their privacy. The editors are truly grateful for every hasher who risked humiliation by sharing their experiences. Finally, be forewarned: You may want to set your beer down lest your suds go up your nose as you read these.

Winning Entry

As a favor, I took a blind, symphony star out to dinner between performances. During dinner at a five star restaurant, his seeing eye dog died under the table. To be sure that it wasn't just asleep, I kicked the dog with my heel. A diner at the next table protested loudly at my cruel actions. When I told the musician about his dog's demise, he became very distraught. The maître d' came over and I explained the situation. He returned moments later with the manager who said that they would remove the dog without creating more of a scene or alerting other patrons. I worried that their solution would be to wrap the dog like a large "doggie" bag shaped like a tin foil swan. Instead, they wheeled in a dessert cart covered with a long table cloth to hide the shelf below where we tucked the dog as quickly as possible. Praying that a leg or tail wouldn't flop out, with desserts piled high on top of the cart, a waiter nervously pushing and sides flanked with the manager and maître d' wearing frozen smiles, I followed the parade with as much grace as possible with a wailing blind man clutching my arm as we all casually strolled out of the restaurant to the waiting limo. The manager convinced the driver with a cash bribe, to put the dog wrapped in the cloth, on the floor of the car where it road with the grieving musician and desserts. I tried to pay the bill but the manager just held up his hand and asked me to leave and not return. I wasn't received much better when we arrived back at the Hall.

First Runner-Up

Dinner went well and we ended up back in his hotel room in bed with me on top. I thought he was having an orgasm but soon realized that it was a heart attack and he had coded -- but was still hard. I called 911 and started CPR. When the Hotel Manager opened the door for the security, police, firemen, paramedics, and ambulance crew, they were met with the sight of my naked ass up in the air as I leaned over the guy and went up and down. Everyone just stood there looking not sure what they were seeing. Out of breath, I told them to take over. They sprung into action and I was trapped in the corner, totally naked to everyone passing the open door. No one viewing the scene could keep from smiling. As they were leaving for the hospital, not knowing what else to do, I grabbed my clothes and his and went too. Once there, I kept having to explain to everyone that I didn't know his medical history, family to contact, or his last name. No one, including his grown children believed that he'd been "exercising." He recovered but I never saw him again.

Second Runner-Up

Scott was an attractive man I'd met through an online dating service. We exchanged a few messages online before he invited me out to dinner. He greeted me enthusiastically, and gestured for me to sit in the booth across from him. Almost before my ass hit the seat, he started asking questions. "So, what are you looking for in a man?" he asked. "Well, I...." "Are you one of those women who doesn't know what she wants?" "I think I...." "How do you feel about sex? Are you comfortable with it?" "I beg your...." "When was the last time you had sex? Did you use protection?" "That's none of...." Things went on in this vein through the appetizer, the main course and into dessert. Finally, I stopped trying to answer him. "Are you multi-orgasmic? Have you ever slept with a woman?" Finally, he fell silent. I looked up from my dessert in surprise. "You're beautiful," he said. "Thanks." I smiled and toasted him with my spoon. "And thanks for dinner." He paused again. "What do you think of me? Give me some feedback." I hesitated. His face fell. "Did I overwhelm you?" "I just...." "I talked too much, didn't I?" "Well, you...." "You think I'm a loser, don't you? Oh, God." And he started to cry. Eventually, I coaxed him to dry his tears and ushered him out to his car, where he tried for a good-night kiss. I gave him a pat on the shoulder and backed slowly away. Just Korin Eugene Hash House Harriers

Other entries

We got to an outdoor Marine Corp Band concert and sat in the very back where no one would mind a little noise. As I tried to make conversation she leaned over and said "Mind if we don't talk, I usually like to have quiet time after work since I work in a pediatrician's office" Now that's not how to impress someone on a first date. Ear Shot Crystal Coast Hash House Harriers

"He's worth millions, lives in a mansion, and is actually single!" My girlfriend's words enticed me, and phone conversations seemed fine until we agreed to meet at a local restaurant. "How will I know you?" was answered with a cryptic description of a Hawaiian shirt, mustache and longish hair. Longish? When I spied him sitting eagerly at the bar, the description exactly matched an aging, paunchy Wayne Newton, complete with long, scraggly, black-dyed hair, the "shirt" and an anxious look. I sped past to the outside patio, quickly ordered some wine, downed it quickly, and pondered my escape. A local prom night insured the carpark was packed to the gills; valets were running up and down streets searching for spots. With windows facing out to the lovely sea view, I didn't think I could sneak past the bar from the outside, and certainly didn't want to risk another dash along the inside. So, I got on my hands and knees and crawled past the windows. Hiding behind a giant Juniper bush, I saw the panting valet just then placing my keys on the rack. "Pssst!" He jumped a few feet in the air at that, but managed an irritated scowl when I told him I wanted my car already. Having rationalized my retreat with the thought that I did indeed appear at the intended restaurant at the appointed time, I peeled out of the parking lot, not even sad that it wasn't consummated as a real date. Ass Transit

I was working at the State Mental Hospital as an interpreter for a deaf client. As I was leaving. a well dressed man caught up with me and walked across the long lawn area. At the time, doctors, staff and residents wore whatever they wanted and ID badges were not always worn except by visitors. He said that he liked the way I handled the situation I'd just taken care of and he asked me if I liked art. He said that he had been taking lessons and had just finished a painting and would like my opinion on the quality. He pointed to the main building where the offices were and suggested that on the way, we stop at the cafe for iced tea and to talk. It was hot and I agreed. The conversation was mainly about art and we got along well. As I finished my tea, he told me that if I wanted, I could spend the night because the second bed in his room was empty. I didn't know that part of the main building had been converted to extra patient housing. I never did find out why he was committed but after that, I asked to see an ID!

I met him at a wine tasting. He invited me over for wine and dinner at his house. I had not gotten "lucky" in a while and hoped the evening would end with more than a hand shake. All went well at the begining of the evening; the food, wine, conversation and music on the CD were good. I was a bit annoyed at his assumpton that being blonde and a former Playboy model, I was also dumb and in need of his constant attempts to educate me on the qualities of the wine. I held my tongue and just drank more. As the evening progressed to dessert, the couch and him changing into a silk robe, I waited for him to make his move. He asked me from his end of the couch if I would take off my blouse and bra and sit back down on my end of the couch. Intrigued, I stood up and using the mood lighting and soft music for the best effect, I slowly did so. I kicked off my heels. He quickly instructed me to put them back on. I sat back down and tucked my feet up on the couch to give him the view of the top of my garters. He asked me to remain silent. Curious, I waited for what would come next. He stared at me for a moment, opened his robe, closed his eyes and began masterbating. I realized that this was his 'thing'. I wasn't any more there than if I'd been on a magazine page. After he'd finished, he suddenly seemed to remember that I was there. I waited for an explanation or something! He got up, wiped his hands on his robe and asked me if I'd like more wine. I declined, redressed, grabbed my purse and suggested he might want to rethink his use of time with a woman willing to provide other pleasures. He seemed confused as to why I was not as satisfied. He called later - for a repeat performance! I declined.

A couple of years ago I tried my luck at internet dating and I had e-mailed back and forth with J several times. We had similar backgrounds - time in the Navy, grew up locally, senses of humor, etc. The day and time of the much-anticipated phone call arrived. We exchanged pleasantries and then, suddenly, within the first few minutes of conversation, J's voice took on a serious tone as he began to tell me about an unfortunate injury he had sustained while in the military. The injury resulted in the removal of his large intestine and the subsequent and very permanent need for a colostomy bag. I responded sympathetically to this tragedy and he explained that he could do all the things anyone else can do, etc., etc. As he justified that it was not THAT terrible I began to envision the activities I enjoy with a mate as they would be with J: snorkeling in the Carribean with J, poo bag in tow, a school of fish close behind; skydiving with a bag floating above; intimate moments where proximity to the bag might affect the 867 positions that I once studied and know I will someday experience. Then I recalled the faint odor that always surrounded my best friend's grandfather, similarly afflicted, when we were younger, and how we would snicker and comment about farts like the children we were. Add to that my complete and utter fear of all things medical - from needles to people in white coats to bed pans. By the time he finished his explanation I had to tell him there was just no way I could begin a relationship with someone with such, well, baggage. It may seem shallow and he appeared to be a great guy, but I just couldn't do it and we both moved on. The next candidate for me was M, a 30-something writer and adventurer from Santa Barbara. We decided our first date would be lunch. Naturally, as two veterans of the internet dating wars, we began to compare stories. Mutual interest was peaking and we were on a great roll about the various people we'd met, thanking ourselves that we had finally met someone "normal" when I told the story of J and the poo bag. M laughed as I described my visions of snorkeling and other such activities. He let me ramble on and then he looked at me and said, "I have a colostomy bag too". I just laughed harder and did an Elainesque "Get out!" combined with a shove. But he was adamant and insisted he had a bag. Still thinking he was joking I insisted on proof. He took my hand and put it on his poo bag and then told me he had been in a motorcycle accident years ago in which he damaged much of his large intestine. I, for once, was at a loss for words. To his credit, he laughed it off and we parted on a good note knowing we would both rejoin the hunt. These days it is standard procedure for me to inquire whether any prospective date has his large intestine. Wettest Lay Ventura County Hash House Harriers

It was in Mexico. I was 18. I was going to summer school at a local university to learn Spanish. I went on a double-date with Fernando, Esteban and my friend Mary Lou. We listened to mariachis. We tasted fermented cactus juice made with saliva. We tested our "strength" against a device designed to send electricity through our bodies. Fernando flirted with me. I flirted with Esteban. Esteban flirted with Mary Lou. Mary Lou ignored everything. We drank. Fernando drove us home. Suddenly, he stopped the car, grabbed a gun from the glove compartment and got out. He started yelling in Spanish and waving the gun. I tried really hard to remember Spanish. Then I understood: he was just a little pissed that he had flirted with me, I had flirted with Esteban, Esteban had flirted with Mary Lou and Mary Lou had ignored everything. Well, I don't think he was that pissed about the Mary Lou part but the rest he was really pissed about. My mind was racing. In Fernando's drunk, angry state, it would take very little for him to wave the gun my way and pull the trigger. Idea number one: drop to the ground. I rejected that - too vulnerable and shot in the back. Idea number two: run. I rejected that. Too vulnerable and shot in the back. Idea number three: start walking slowly away. It worked. Esteban distracted Fernando. Mary Lou followed me. That's how I spent my summer vacation. And all my mom asked me when I got home was whether or not I'd used birth control. Funny woman. Mudda Foda

My worst date resulted from a personal ad I placed. One of my stated requirements was "fit & trim". After a long conversation with a woman who answered the ad, in which she said nothing about her physical appearance even though she had plenty of opportunity, we arranged to meet at a diner. She said she'd be wearing a green jacket. Well, I was a quarter of a mile from the place and I could see her by the door. I thought she was a Dumpster. Any normal man would have just turned around and gone home, but being a man of my word - a hindrance in the world of dating - I followed through with our date. She was 30 but looked 40 because of her weight. Even after her large, greasy meal, I was still stupid enough to take her to an oktoberfest afterward. At one point she was eating a foot-long knockwurst while proclaiming, "I've been thinking about getting back in shape." All I could think was, "You'd better think a lot harder, Shamu. Do you really have the slightest intention of actually working out? And what do you mean 'back in shape'? Were you ever in shape? Well, I suppose round is a shape." Later, as I dropped her off at her car, she said, "You know, you're not as physically attractive as you led me to believe, but I'd be willing to see you again." Suck My Tick

It was December 2003. It was my 30th birthday. I had been dating this height impaired boy for a short while. My sister and I decided to go out to dinner then go listen to a reggae band. The height impaired boy came along, meeting my sister for the first time. We ate Thai - he paid. We went to listen to the band. My sister's date showed up for that part. My height impaired date kept suggesting that we all go back to his house and play pool. My sister and her date did not want to - so Shorty and I went to his house. Needless to say, we did not play pool - birthday, drinks, etc... lead to a different form of fun. After the birthday "fun" - the height impaired boy went to the bathroom. He came back in the room and said " This is going to be complicated." In my head I am thinking - girlfriend, married, gay, couldn't find his way back to the bed... Never in a million years did I expect him to say what he was about to say. Ready for this? He said "This is going to be complicated because I like your sister too." So, in classic female fashion, I picked up my belongings(the 3 P's - purse, panties and phone), got dressed and went downstairs. I called my sister and asked her to come pick me up. Shorty kept trying to give me a ride home - "It's the least I can do." I wouldn't let him. So my sister and her date had to come way out to where ever I was to get me. I refused to stay in Shorty's house, so I stood outside - I think it was 15 degrees out - with the 3 P's in hand. What a sight! Happy Birthday to Me!

September 1st, 2002. I was in Blacksburg, Virginia with this woman on our third date to watch my #14 LSU Tigers play against the #16 Virginia Tech Hokies in the football season opener. Lisa and I were set up by a friend in Washington, DC and up to this point had only kissed twice, but nothing really toe-curling or cock-straightening. I was curious if this road trip to Blacksburg was just platonic or whether more was yet to come. Before the game started I placed a "friendly" bet in a fit of flirting. I bet her that if LSU wins, then I get to pleasure her orally once, but if LSU loses, then I had to pleasure her orally three times. I assumed that if she took the bet then, at least I would be able to see her with her clothes off. I figured it was a win-win situation and a huge smile came across my face as she agreed to the bet. This bet would have worked out if my LSU Tigers hadn't lost 8 to 26. I was dejected and tired from the loss, but most of all I did not look forward to the four hour ride home. Lisa just made it more unbearable by chanting "Your team sucks!" and "Now you have to pleasure me three times!" She was becoming a real bummer. Once I got her back to her place I riped her clothes off in her den and started with her first cumming. We had a snack and moved upstairs for her second cumming, but she asked me to keep my boxers on in bed. I thought it was odd, but accepted it. During the night as we slept I know she could feel my "excitement" on her backside, yet she did not acknowledge him; no grabbing, no grinding, nothing. Before we fell asleep she asked if I was going to leave her after her third time and I assured her that I would still like to see her again and that I was only in a funk from the game loss. In reality I had no desire to ever see this vindictive woman again and so in the morning I woke her up with my head between her legs for her third cumming. I kissed her goodbye and promised to call, but never did. Now, the story gets really good when I return to my hasher roommate and confess to my blue-ball misery. Well this no-good wanker has the nerve to show up at my naming ceremony and repeat this story to the circle, and that is why I am named ... All Lickie, No Dickie Everyday Is Wednesday Hash House Harriers

On this occasion me and my mates went out to grab a grunt and we challenged each to chat up the ugliest crow you could imagine. Imagine our surprise when we found out that the group of dogs that we picked up were on the same mission. Funny yes, coincidence maybe, Kama for sure

OK, so I meet this guy at a wedding. He lives out of town, but asks if he can come back the following weekend and take me out. Being rather happily intoxicated, of course I say yes. He did drive a really cool early-70's era Camaro.... Anyway, he shows up the next weekend in a BMW, I'm sure thinking it would impress (it did not - I much preferred the Camaro). He comes to the door, and my roommate answers. She lets him in, I introduce them, they say hi, and then he asks me if he can borrow ..........no, not the phone.................some deodorant!!!!! Of course, he asks this in front of my roommate and her boyfriend, like it's the most common thing in the world to ask to borrow deodorant from your date (on the first date, no less). I have no idea where we went on that date. I only know that I GAVE him (not loaned) a can of deodorant, went to dinner with him, and never saw him again. And to this day, I am grateful to my roommate for at least waiting until we left the apartment before bursting into peals of laughter!

The date was for dinner and after to a jazz club for drinks. A friend thought we had a lot in common. He was a lawyer and I worked in the same field. I dressed to impress in heels and a figure hugging dress that set off my body as well as my long blonde curls. As I walked through the restaurant, heads turned to watch me pass. I was feeling good. He stood up nervously when I got to the table. I smiled trying to put him at ease. Conversation went well but every time I gave him a sultry look or held his gaze, he seemed ill at ease. I teased him and said that I never bite or scratch. He hastily excused himself and went to the men's room. I finished dessert and waited. Finally an embarrassed waiter came over and told me that he was to give me a note and he added that my date had been seen climbing out the bathroom window. The note said that he was sorry but he couldn't continue the date. He said that he could tell by looking at me that I "was way out of his league" and "more than (he) could handle." I looked up to see that the staff all knew what had happened and I guessed what the note said too. All I could do was muster a slight smile and shrug to say, "Oh well, just my luck." I paid the bill and went home to watch TV with my dog.

After going to a basketball game followed by beer and pizza with the guys, the conversation turned to blow jobs. The bet I proposed to my date was that I could provide a blow job unmatched by any he'd ever had. If I won, he bought the pizza and drinks the next time we went out. On the way back to his place, I stopped for beer and a some special candy. The bet got underway before we finished the first beers. I turned down the lights and got orally started using some interesting techniques. I then emptied 3 packs of Pop Rocks candy into my mouth. All went well until he started to cum. The candy started popping and he thought that his dick "broke" as they exploded against it. He suddenly pulled his dick out of my mouth to examine it. I opened my mouth to explain and the candy pieces started crackling and popping all at once. He got scared and yelled, "My God! My cum has never done that before!" That pretty much labeled me as having a kinky side and ended the date and the bet.

While the contest is officially over, the Half-Mind Catalog invites H3 enthusiasts to continue sharing your date horror stories with us. Send a description of your worst date to and we'll consider it for inclusion.