How To End Any Date Awkwardly

Cactus, key fobs and other dating dangers.

I am an awkward date. I mean it. I am a complete spaz. I have absolutely no idea what I am doing. I like to think it’s cute but, really, I am certain that it’s not.

I have read a good few articles, tweets, and Facebook posts from people resolving to be better at dating in 2019. I’m here to help. If you’re looking for sage advice, you may want to move along. There will be no such thing to follow.

I’m a good person. Kind, loving, funny. I’m just bad under pressure. This probably explains why I have been on about two dozen first dates in the last 90 days with only two resulting in a second date.

My biggest dating foible is that I can’t stick the landing. It is my Achilles heel. The kiss is where I get hung up. I have no idea what to do. I can honestly say I fear the end of the date kiss to the point where it gives me anxiety. I told you I was a mess.

I’d like to illustrate what this looks like.

Dating as an Olympic Event

Once, I went on a date with a guy who was actually a friend. Seems safe. We went hiking which could have ended horribly. I made it down the mountain feeling like I was winning at life!

We were saying goodbye and my brain switch flipped on. What happens now? We’re friends. The crazy train started down the tracks with little puffs of “what if” smoke billowing behind it.

You know this move. He’s going to kiss me. Oh shit! He’s going to kiss me! I panicked.

I had no idea what to do so I broke the hug and turned and ran away. Well, it was a really fast brisk walk/jog maneuver. Here’s the problem: We were hiking in the desert. There’s cactus.

In order to flee my date, I found myself running toward a large cactus that I actually had to hurdle like Lolo Jones so I could get away. Yes, friends, I hurdled a cactus. While waving over my shoulder. Nailed it.

“He’s Going to Kiss Me” Panic — The Remix

On occasion, I have found myself on a date I did not realize was a date. Oh, come on! It happens! A friend asked me to grab a drink and about 30 minutes in I realized, “Awww crap. I’m on a date.” That’s fine but I was not mentally prepared for this.

He walked me to my car at the end of the date I didn’t know I was on and I knew he was going to kiss me. Not prepared. Once again, I panicked.

Except I hit the fob twice and unknowingly relocked the door. When I went to get in, it was locked. By hand flew off the handle with me reeling backwards. I am SO smooth.

“He’s Not Going to Kiss Me” Panic — Side B

The last date I went on actually went pretty darn well. Considering. I have very long legs. Barstools are no friend of mine. I spent two hours shuffling my legs around so that I can face my date comfortably while not falling off my stool. It took serious body spatial control. My tank runs about 14% full in this arena at any given time. I felt accomplished.

This was one of the rare occasions where I actually had such a good time that I wanted him to kiss him at the end of the date. The problem was that when he hugged me in the parking lot, I made the realization in 1.2 seconds that he was not going to do it.

It was, possibly, the most awkward kiss of my entire life. I caught him totally off guard. My face was leaning to the wrong side. He’s the same height as me and I had no idea what to do with my hands and arms. It was super cold outside. 15 year-olds do a better job of ending dates.

A Second Chance To Embarrass Myself

There is hope. In order to deflect from the awkward kiss, I sent my date a text acknowledging the awkward kiss. Logic is lost on me, people. I know. Tonight, we actually have a second date. I may have found a man who finds my awkwardness endearing. Now, wouldn’t that be something!

I am contemplating demanding he kiss me in the first 30 minutes of the date so that I can relax. What’s a girl to do? It could work. It could backfire. Worst case scenario is that I embarrass myself to the point where I have to fake a collapsed lung and go home. I’m interested to see how this goes. Stay tuned.

Flaming pinball, nerd, music lover, wine snob, horrible violin player. No, I won’t stop taking pictures of my drinks. vanessaltorre@gmail.com IG: vanessaltorre

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