#MyWorstDate

Everyone has had a terrible date at some point in their life. Someone more engrossed in their phone than with you, a mouth breather, horrific body odor. You get the drift. Everyone has these horror stories and has swapped them with friends over drinks, laughed, and shuddered together while reliving these memories and proclaiming you've had the worst date over your friends.

But can you really top a date where you nearly become someone's mistress? I think not. And this is where my horror story begins.

My first boyfriend, let's call him A for purposes of being a decent person (which he doesn't deserve), and I broke up after three months of dating... if you can even call it that. We maybe went out, as in physically left his apartment, on dates twice in those three months and we spent the rest of the time on his couch, me on my phone and him playing Call of Duty. What a great boyfriend. I was 19 and immature so I did what any other reasonable person would do: I ghosted his ass. Didn't answer calls, didn't answer texts, didn't answer emails. I wanted nothing to do with it and I made it very obvious and after two weeks, he got the hint and stopped. I thought it was over and that we had all moved on.

Scene: two years later. I'm with my best guy friend at a Sondre Lerche concert in downtown and I'm in the throng of the crowd. The venue is set up in such a way that the main gathering of people is in a bowl while people can stand above it in a U-shape. I look over in the crowd and I see a familiar looking Dallas Stars hat bobbing in the crowd. At this point, I'm pretty sure it's A but you can never be sure with bright lights flashing directly in your eyes and a tiny, adorable Norwegian man singing directly in front of you. I had priorities that night and one of them was not confronting what could or could not have been my douchebag of an ex-boyfriend.

I got home that night, ears buzzing from the music and head buzzing from the amaretto sours that had been downed over the course of the evening. As I was checking my emails before I passed out, I saw an email from A, cursing me out for not saying hello to him at the concert, cursing me out for ghosting him, and him proclaiming his love for me. WHOA. Three months of dating, a ghost, and two years between and the man was gushing like a geyser with his love and affection for me. Me, in a drunken stupor, responded by saying I was a dumb kid but that he didn't love me, he had loved the thought of me and that I was a totally different person. Half an hour later, I was awoken by a response telling me he could tell I had changed, that he still loved me and that he wanted to meet up for dinner to talk about it and settle it up. So I did what any self-respecting, independent woman would do. I drunkenly said yes.

This is why drinking and I don't mix.

A week later, I found myself at dinner with A. He looked the same, just a little more weather-worn around the eyes and a little more paunch around the middle. He still said the same sweet things that had me eating out of his hand the first time and I was falling for it all over again. I felt like I was in a haze, staring dreamily at him until a sentence hit my head like a ton of bricks and the wool was ripped off like a Band-Aid.

"When I get married next month..."

WAIT. WHAT?

I promptly asked what he meant by getting married next month and he looked at me like I had suddenly gone stupid.

Turns out this man I was falling for all over again was getting married to his high school sweetheart that he had reconnected with once we broke up. The one his parents adored and loved and worshipped.

Questioning him as to why then he had told me he loved me, I was then informed that he loved me and not her but that he had to marry her out of obligation to her and his family.

But that I was still allowed to be his mistress.

Let me reiterate that for you: I was STILL going to be ALLOWED to be his MISTRESS.

I knew at this point that not only was this sham of a date over, any and all association with A was, as well. So I dumped my drink on his lap, told him to suck a dick, and left the restaurant.

This was over a decade ago now. I have since gotten married to the most wonderful man who is my true partner in every sense of the word. My last update on A was from his brother, who I ran into at school about four years ago. He ended up getting married to that girl and they have four children together.

All I know is that I dodged a big ass bullet on that one.

But I do wonder if he ever found a mistress.