Worst. Date. Ever.

I’m realizing looking back that I made a fatal error!! 

(I know. You are thinking- which one did you realize?)

You may remember a ways back that I was counting down my worst dates. 

But I neglected to give the story of my 

NUMBER ONE WORST DATE EVER!

My countdown gave only the runners up...

I know, with all of these top contenders you’ve heard about, it is hard to imagine that there was something that could top them.

And in retrospect, I don’t think this one was really truly terrible that terrible. 

But at the time it was. 

So while you are experiencing this date in my retelling, imagine me at 19. Imagine my discomfort. Imagine my horror. 

I was a sophomore in college, living on my own, out of the dorms. Me an my fabulous 3 roommates often had people over visiting, and hanging out. One such friend was our incredibly awkward neighbor named Spencer Rose.* (names have been changed a bit). He was forever nicknamed Spencer “I Love Church” Rose. He would come over on occasion to chat with us, and had an uncanny way of grinding the conversation to a complete halt. On such occasions, when the awkward silence became too much to bear, he would inevitably start talking about his love for church and scripture. Which, as religious people ourselves (I mean, come on! We were BYU students) we could not argue. If someone says, “I love church,” you kind of have to agree with them. But it would only add to the incredible awkwardness he brought. But he was nice, and we put up with his awkward behavior. 

One day I ran into him on campus. He stopped me and said that he would love to see Les Miserables with me. 

Now lets pause for a moment for some important back story information:

I saw Les Mis for the first time when I was 8 (perhaps questionable content for an 8 year old, but hey. It’s the arts..) and I was immediately obsessed. I was Eponine for Halloween in 4th grade: A jaunty cap, a trench coat, and some dirt smudged across my cheek. Needless to say, nobody knew who I was, but I didn’t care. She was my ultimate heroine- The passion! The unrequited love! (hello, story of my life!)  I still cry when Marius sings the last word of “A Little Fall of Rain” without her. 

I called my sister a bastard once, and remember my mom asking where I learned such language. “I learned it from Les Miserables!!” I cried.

I had the tape of the Original Broadway Cast, and warped it from overuse. 

I can’t even tell you how many times I re-watched the recent 25th anniversary special on PBS during the pledge drive. And I cried like a baby every time. And even liked Nick Jonas. And when the 4 Jean Val Jeans got together!!!! And reuniting the ENTIRE original cast!!  Oh, don’t get me started....

But I digress... Back to our story.

When awkward Spencer said he’d like to see Les Miserables with me, my first thought was, “AHHH!  He’s so awkward!!!” (remember- me at 31: pretty awkward. Me at 19- so incredibly awkward. Awkward with awkward- just doesn't bode well.)

But my second thought was, “Who cares!  It’s Les Mis!!” 

So I agreed.

He told me a day and time, and said he would come to get me.

The day arrived. 

I was completely decked out. Because in my book, that is what you do when you go to the theater.

He showed up in ripped up jeans. 

But I thought to myself, No, Linda. It’s OK. We’ll see all sorts of fashion choices. After all. It’s the theater.

“I just walked over from my place,” he said. “We can just walk back over there.”

I’m confused. “Walk?... To your place?... Where are we going to see Les Mis?”

“Oh! I saw that you own the VHS copy of the 10th Anniversary special,” he answered.  “And I thought we could watch it at my house!”

Pause. “Oh... OK...Great...” Because what else do you say at this point?

So, totally dejected because I wasn’t seeing it on stage, I grabbed the VHS tape, and we then walked the few steps to his apartment, and went inside. 

Once there, I saw he had made me dinner. A very kind gesture, for sure.

So we sat down to eat. 

I don’t remember what he made, but I do remember when, during said meal, he told me, “We should have some music. You know what type of music I love? Christmas music. I have some in my stereo right now. Let’s listen to it!” And he went and turned it on. 

It was March.

So after some rousing renditions of Away in a Manger and Jingle Bell Rock, and when dinner was through, it was finally time for the Main Event. 

He took the Les MIs tape and put it in the VCR. He pushed play. 

The TV screen was nothing but fuzz- black and white and grey ants crawling across the screen. No visible picture at all. 

Me (beyond done and thinking I’ve found an out): “Wow. It looks like your TV is broken. Maybe we need to rain check and do it another time?”

Him: “Oh. No. I knew it didn’t work, but the sound works! The music is so beautiful. I thought we could just listen! Isn’t it about the music, anyways?”

Me: (Sigh.) “I guess so.”

So we sat and watched the fuzz. 

And listened.

After awhile I thought, well, although I am not the greatest conversationalist, I can at least try to make conversation. 

“So.” I said. “I’ve always thought that Sean Connery would make a great Jean Val Jean if they ever made a movie out of this.” (remember, this is 1998. There was no movie yet.) 

“Oh?” he asked. “Now...Which one is Sean Connery?”

“Indiana Jones’ dad in the last movie?” (again, it was 1998)

“The King of England in Robin Hood?” (1998 friends- Kevin Costner was still cool)

“He’s Scottish?”

Nothing.

“Ummm... The original James Bond?”

Nope. He’d never heard of him. 

This was an absolute affront to my young pop culture obsessed self (and lets be honest, would still be now.)

This was when I gave up. 

And I sat and watched the fuzz.

And listened.

Bless his heart, I think he had a wonderful time. He walked me home, and was nothing but generous and kind. 

But really. Christmas music in Springtime, and watching a broken TV?

And I had been expecting a night at the theater!!

Years later, he moved into the same neighborhood as my best friend in New York, and she would run into him on occation. He had a very nice and beautiful wife, and cute kids. And was just as odd and clueless.  I bet he still listens to Christmas music year round. 

Now, as I said before, this may not seem as bad as being dragged into the woods in the middle of the night, or having a wacko destroy things, or being told that they own a small arsenal of weapons. 

And I realize that it isn't. I used to think so. But 13 years later, I've been witness to worse.

But there is a lesson here for me: in the world of dating, expectations will be the death of you. 

Lower them, and you can always be pleasantly surprised.

Keep them too high, and instead of a night at the theater, you will inevitably be listening to a VHS movie on a broken TV.