Welcome guest blogger Sidney Bristol to Silken Sheets today.
Share your worst date story and you could win a copy of Sidney’s book, Flirting with Rescue, Now available from Ellora’s Cave publishing.
Ninja Dating – Sidney Bristol
Have you ever been on a Ninja Date?
Sadly, this isn’t about going on a date with a dark, mysterious man swathed in black carrying throwing stars. I can’t be the only person who has found themselves the victim of a Ninja Date, but I might have some of the best stories about them.
Hi, I’m Sidney, and I think it’s acceptable to share horrible date stories to get a laugh. Today I want to tell you about one of the worst dates evah, which also has the bad ju-ju to also have been one of my few Valentine Dates.
So first, what is a Ninja Date, you ask?
A Ninja Date is when a friend or acquaintance of the opposite sex suggests that you go grab something to eat or see that movie you both want to see… never bothering to tell you it’s a date. You show up, probably in your comfy jeans, a sweat shirt because it’s kind of chilly outside, and you find yourself in dating hell.
I love a good friends-to-lovers story, but my life is far from a romance trope.
So, let’s take a walk down memory lane. I was in college, it was my next to last semester and I was working full time, going to school and organizing a humanitarian trip to Thailand. I didn’t have a brain cell to worry about Valentine’s Day. A friend of mine, let’s call him Mike, was a little blue, so when he asked if I would grab dinner with him so we could miss the gaudy decorations and mooning couples in the cafeteria, I jumped at the offer. I was anticipating a drive-through and some fast food.
What I got was much different.
Dressed in jeans, my favorite band t-shirt and with my hair a mess, I show up for our dinner run. Mike is waiting in the lobby of the dorm.
He was wearing clean clothes.
He had on a freaking button down shirt.
Mike was kind of a grungy guy. He usually sported scruff, some ridiculous t-shirt he’d scrounged from a Goodwill bin and jeans that sported lots of stains. Good guy. Not a great dresser. So the alteration to his wardrobe was a Big Red Flag.
As we walked out to his truck, the one he’d told me about lovingly, about how awesome it was, and such a classic, I was getting nervous. I had a pretty good idea that I’d been Ninja Napped. Now, as we’re walking through the parking lot we pass up all the nice trucks. This is Texas, there are a lot of them. But no. We progress to the last row of vehicles, and there, sitting in a corner spot is a beat up, old POS rust bucket.
I’m now wondering how quick I can get myself out of this situation. Mike stands at the rear bumper and watches me try to open the door. It’s unlocked. I can see it’s unlocked, and yet it won’t open. I kid you not, I put my foot on the side panel and hauled back just to get the darn thing open. Mike laughs. Apparently he wanted to wait and see if I needed help.
By the point we’re starting to pull out of the parking lot, I know that this is a Ninja Date. I’m praying that it’s over quick, because as nice as Mike is, I would tear him up as a boyfriend. He starts chatting about something and asks me to put a piece of paper in his glove box. I think nothing of it, open the glove box and—oh shit—throw the piece of paper in and close it. Mike requests that I open the glove box and take out the lovely plastic wrapped rose he’s hidden there.
How sweet. I’m now wondering how much it would hurt to throw myself out of a moving vehicle. This is going nowhere good, and I can only see me hurting him if this continues, but by the time I’ve come to grips with the idea of road rash, we pull into a fast food Chinese place.
Then follows the most awkward five hour dinner I’ve ever had. We literally shut the place down, we stayed that long. It was sad because Mike and I had the same majors and typically could while away an hour or more chatting about anything. But nerves must have tied him into knots because we discussed and discussed the same three topics. For five hours.
During this time, several friends of mine or ours came in and tried to join us, but were told by Mike that we were having a private dinner.
The evening had an anticlimactic end. Several friends were entering the dorm at the same time as us and I used them as cover to escape with only a side hug. I spent the following month avoiding Mike because direct, “I’m not interested,” comments didn’t do any good.
So while nothing overly bad happened on this date, it still holds the record of being my worst Valentine’s Day outing ever. What holds the record of worst evah for you? One commenter will win a copy of my latest Ellora’s Cave release, Flirting with Rescue, where the heroine once got a pink gun for Valentine’s Day, I kid you not.
Flirting With Rescue
Sparks—and clothes—fly when hot veterinarian Cody-Lynn Parker shows up at Scott Carillo’s animal shelter. Scott’s had a bad run with women, but he can’t keep his hands off Cody’s luscious curves.
Cody’s trying to be professional, but she can barely concentrate on work thanks to her craving for the tall, dark and sexy Cuban. She kisses caution goodbye and Scott hello when his shirt comes off.
Between naked star-gazing and naughty massages, their steamy fling turns into an affair of the heart. But when thieves target Cody, she finds herself flirting with danger, and Scott wants to rescue her whether she thinks she needs it or not.
Want to find out what other trouble Sidney gets herself into?
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