I used to teach tenth-grade English. One day, I assigned a twenty-minute writing prompt on the students’ dream life.

In my seventh period, I had a couple who had been dating for about three months. The boy was completely head-over-heels in love with his girlfriend, but he had some “unique” ideas.

After the twenty minutes were up, I asked for volunteers to share what they had written and the boy stood up to read his paper.

Boy: “My dream is to live off the grid in either Wyoming, Montana, or Alaska. I want to live in a cabin that I built with my own hands. I am going to have a farm and grow my own food, an orchard where I grow my own fruit, and cattle, chickens, and pigs that I’ll raise myself for meat. I’ll be living hours away from any real towns or cities and just have a completely free life where I can do whatever I want and be totally self-sufficient. My wife will help me build our cabin, she’ll bear our children right in our cabin, and we will homeschool them and teach them to live off of the land.”

Girl: “Um, I will definitely not be having our children in a cabin! I will be having my children in a hospital.”

Boy: “Honey, we’ll probably be three or four hours away from any hospital. Maybe more if we choose Alaska.”

Girl: “I am not giving birth four hours away from any sort of medical care!”

Boy: “You won’t have a choice. I won’t be able to get you to a hospital! You’ll be fine, I promise! I’ll know how to deliver a baby because I’ll have to help our cows have their calves.”

Girl: “Yeah, I don’t think this is going to work out.”

Surprisingly enough, they were no longer a couple the next day. He was much more heartbroken about it than she was.

Before my parents met, my dad was in the army, and my mom was a civilian working at the same army base. Both were far from home. In my mom’s case, it was her first time living in an area with no family nearby.

My mom got involved in some of the women’s groups and other groups to get to know the community. One older woman in particular took my mom under her wing and repeatedly told her she wanted to introduce her to a lieutenant who worked under her husband. My mom was very open to meeting people, but the woman never really followed through.

Fast forward a bit. My parents met at a party on base, started dating, and got engaged a few months later. They had an engagement party.

At the engagement party, the woman who had wanted to set my mom up with that nice young lieutenant was there, and she came up to my mom.

Older Woman: “Congratulations on your engagement! I’m very happy for you. I’m just sorry I never got a chance to introduce you to that nice lieutenant; I really think you would have gotten along well. He’s here, though! I still want to introduce you.”

She flagged down the nice lieutenant.

Older Woman: “Here he is! [Lieutenant], I wanted to introduce you to [Mom].”

Mom: “Well, you were right that we’d get along well; this is my fiancé!”

The older woman was definitely right that they’d get along well! My parents have been married for forty-eight years.

My husband and I, along with two of his siblings, all get married within a six-month timeframe. A family friend on their side gifts each couple with a weekend marriage retreat. We each go on a separate weekend, and we are now chatting about our time at a family dinner.

Sister-In-Law: “[Husband] and I had dinner at [Restaurant] and then watched [TV Show] at the hotel. What about you guys?”

Brother-In-Law: “[Wife] and I went to [Restaurant] and watched a movie back at the hotel.”

Me: “We went to [Restaurant] for dinner and then window-shopped around the town. Just enjoyed each other’s company.”

Sister-In-Law: “Did you guys watch anything?”

My Husband: “I don’t think we turned on the TV at all while we were there.”

Sister-In-Law: “Really? So, what did you do during the breaks between [Retreat] sessions?”

My Husband: “Err, what do you think a newlywed couple would be doing during their time alone?”

She turned a few shades of red.

My boyfriend takes me to a restaurant for my birthday. It’s a very expensive restaurant but still casual clothing. My boyfriend always dreamed of taking his love there, so he has saved up for it. I have no fashion sense, and the fanciest outfit my boyfriend has is a nice sweater and good jeans. When we enter the restaurant, we notice people staring. It’s not a large restaurant, so it’s easy to see we are out of place. The staff treats us nicely, but we do not feel welcome.

After the appetizer, we get on to the main course. My boyfriend asks for fish and I ask for meat. We get what we ordered and start eating. Halfway through the meal, the waiter comes by and asks if everything is all right.

Me: “Yes, the food is amazing.”

The waiter turns to my boyfriend.

Waiter: “How is your meal, sir?”

My boyfriend doesn’t answer. He just keeps on staring at his plate, carefully chewing. He does nod a bit, so we assume he doesn’t want to talk with his mouth full.

Me: “He loves it, as well.”

The waiter leaves. Ten minutes later:

Boyfriend: “This fish is amazing! I mean, delicious! Here, taste it! This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted! We have to let them know that; that chef is amazing!”

Me: “Well, the waiter already knows; surely he told the chef.”

Boyfriend: “The waiter? When did you talk to him?”

Me: “Eh, about ten minutes ago? He visited our table?”

Boyfriend: “No, he didn’t… Did he?”

Me: “He was standing right next to you. He asked you if everything was all right?”

Boyfriend: “No… When… You mean…?”

Me: “You didn’t notice the waiter standing next to you?!”

Boyfriend: “You tasted this fish! It is pure heaven! I didn’t notice anything!”

When the waiter passed by again, my boyfriend profusely apologised for not noticing the waiter and unintentionally ignoring him. The waiter promised to tell the chef his dish was so good that my boyfriend forgot about the world for a moment. After that, the staff was a lot more chill with us (I guess the ice broke) and we had a great time.

I’m also the author of this story, so let’s just get out of the way that yes, I have a weird dating life.

I meet a guy via a dating website and we get along quite well. We have three dates that all go pretty well, and I start to like him, though I’m cautious about any further advances he makes. (Turns out later that was probably my instincts warning me up front somehow.)

Before long, [Guy] invites me to what he describes as “a metal music festival for furries” at a town just across the German border. I think it’s a fun date idea — we’re both metalheads, for starters, and though I’m not into furry stuff myself, he has a pretty neat tiger fursona and I’m curious to see it — so I agree to go.

We book a hotel on the Dutch side of the border and head there first to drop off our stuff. I find out [Guy] didn’t bring his costume — which is odd since he was talking about showing it to me for days — but I think nothing much of it.

On the way there, [Guy] has a CD playing by a band that I only slightly tolerate, and it repeats about five times during the ride. I’m slightly annoyed, but I’m not going to be the passenger DJ, so I’ll cope.

An hour and a half after we pass the border, we finally arrive at a tiny town, at a party venue that is no more than a converted barn. The “festival” only has one cover band playing and about fifty people in attendance. But sure, the vibes are so far so good.

We enter the venue, [Guy] introduces me to some of his friends… and then, he promptly disappears without a trace for the following hours.

I’m feeling quite lost and awkward as I don’t know anybody. I sulk for a while, but people are inviting me to socialise, and one even buys me a drink. So, I think, “Screw it. Let’s make the best of it while I’m here.” I have a couple of drinks, hang out with some people, admire the furry costumes, and enjoy the band.

People start inquiring who I’m with, and alarms start to go off.

The moment I mention his name and the fact that he disappeared on me, people go, “Oh, no, not him again,” and, “How in the h*** did a sweet thing like you end up with [Guy], of all people?” and, “Poor girl, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” and even, “Honey, don’t go on a date with this guy ever again. He’s trouble. Save yourself.”

I have no clue how to get out. We’re in the middle of nowhere, and as friendly as all the people are, no one is willing to give me a ride somewhere out of here. I enquire further and find out that my date is no real threat, just a notorious d****ebag with a truckload of personal issues.

[Guy] does show his face around midnight for a short time, and he looks tired and moody. I approach him and ask him if he is ready to leave, but he says no and tells me to continue dancing on my own.

Two o’clock in the morning rolls around and I’m dead beat, the high has gone, and I’m more than done with all this. I’m slumped on a sofa somewhere, just waiting for him to make an appearance. Some people are kind enough to keep me company, but most people have gone home by now. Then, [Guy] finally shows.

Guy: *Curtly* “We’re going.”

I follow him to the car. By the time we get to the hotel, that one album plays three more times, and I’m close to punching a wall.

He snores like a pig all night, so I don’t sleep a wink. During breakfast, he continues to be grumpy and doesn’t say a word, so I finally tell him he can drop me off at the nearest train station and I’ll find my way home from there.

He has the nerve to look surprised.

We get to the station, and I swear, I never want to hear this particular album again ever in my life. Before I leave, I turn to him and say:

Me: “You know, I even managed to have a bit of fun last night.”

His face lights up.

Guy: “You did?”

Me: “Yes. But obviously, no thanks to you. Never see you later.”

I slammed the car door in his face and, true to my word, never saw him again. I did meet some more people who seemed to know the guy some months after, and again, I was told I’d dodged a bullet with that one.

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