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But reading these stories did give us a joyous taste of schadenfreude, an undoing of the fantasy-filled tropes of romantic comedy. He told me he was still hungover from an OKC date he had the night before. I mean, I probably have HPV, but I dunno, men can't get tested for that shit.' "He paid for my drinks and I ordered him a Lyft home from his phone." —Jo Ann Schinderle, dating podcast co-host "I met my former boyfriend Carl on Valentine's Day, and we went to a bicycle battle royale where someone started a food fight. Conversation is flowing, she's laughing, I'm charming. The downside of a communal dining restaurant is that you have no privacy, making awkward situations worse. We had several dates and one night he ended up staying over, and we cuddled by the fire. Two weeks later I get a mysterious phone call asking me lots of questions about myself, as well as confirming information. I was then informed it was the lawyer of said disappearing date, and that disappearing date had been in a halfway house and didn't make curfew, and as a result had been sent back to federal prison.

When I asked if he wore condoms, he said aggressively, 'What? I got hit in the face with a slice of moldy pizza from a dumpster, and he helped me clean the grease off my face. But then they're like, 'I totally care about you, I just need to fuck other people, and you're not invited.'"—Anonymous "Okay, so I've never had good luck in love. One day in '08 (pre-app era), I tried internet dating. Then, before the entrée shows up, guess who walks in the front door? No, you can't make this stuff up, and no, it's not what you think. He didn't fight me, or even acknowledge my presence. The next morning, I dropped him at home and he said he would call me later. I was then told that disappearing date had stated I was the only person he knew in the area that he could remain sober around, and as a result could he be remanded to my custody until said date could be deposited in a drug treatment center on Monday due to parole violation.

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In solidarity, I collected real-life dating stories from our panel of romance experts, as well as the Mercury's Portland Dating Dispatch blog, where anonymous locals stopped being polite and started getting real about seeking relationships and sex in Portland. There's not much hope for us, fellow singles of Portland.

Certainly, many of the shady characters from these tales still roam the Ok Cupid underworld, SO BEWARE! But sometimes, just sometimes, all the trouble is worth it. He showed up wearing house slippers and sweatpants because he'd been 'day drinking to get rid of his hangover.' (It was 10 pm when we met). I'm just embarrassed—and angry that I had already paid for the meal! He was handsome and seemed nice, so we agreed to meet.

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This means that, at minimum, we were going out on five-person dates. They actually lock the sliding doors to keep him out, and I leave after a half hour.—Anonymous "So in LOVE. Like the kind you feel way down deep, and you know everything is right in the universe, and is perfectly aligned. You were pretty enough, but I don't really go for the female 'jock' type.

Sometimes our dates would be six or seven people, since I had another partner at that time and so did someone in the triad. We come to the epiphany that in this world, you gotta not care what people think in order to make it. ' and stands up, puts his hand down the back of his pants, and starts to dig around. Regardless, we barhopped for an hour or two, talking about mundane things and consuming more alcohol.