I've become quite an expert in the field of Horrible, Terrible, No Good, Very, Very Bad Dates. Though I can spot a bad date after a few minutes and kill it quickly with the excuse that my roommate suddenly fractured her pelvis and needs my immediate assistance, it wasn't always that way. I would wade through the entire experience thinking it had to improve before I ended up drinking heavily in my bed while watching meth documentaries on Netflix.

Dating isn't easy, but I've compiled a list from my wonderful experiences to aid you all in this lovely world. And, Dad, be warned: this gets gross and I might curse, but I'm still kind of a lady.

1. Girls, if he wants to ejaculate on your glasses, he's not a keeper.

Cum on a girl's glassesI'm not one to judge what others do behind closed doors (or even open ones for all you crazy, public sex kids), but this comment still set me back and made my right eye twitch a little. When my eloquent date asked me on the sidewalk in front of a crowd dispersing from a metal show if he could cum on my glasses, my first reaction after the shock wave was not to run across the street and try to dodge traffic, but to remove my glasses from my face, hold them away from my body, and ask for clarification on his inquiry.

Did he want me to hand them over and let him have his way with them right there at the crosswalk? Then there's the matter of the clean-up. I hate finger smudges on my lenses so how in the heck would I be able to withstand semen all over them? After a quick "it's not you, it's me" excuse, I skipped to my car, leaving him alone to ponder his thoughts.

2. If he Google Earths you, he may not be "the one."

House in a neighborhood viewed from Google Earth map
Would he rather see the inside of your house, or the rooves of your whole neighborhood?
I'm much more careful now with my personal information, but back in the day I used to tell everyone and their mom about how my house is on Wikipedia, and, being the clever lady I am, I knew that this information was perfect for trying to get guys interested in me. Ooh, her house is on Wikipedia, she's like a celebrity! I think I'll woo her and introduce her to my mother!

When I told a potential suitor such information, not only was he impressed, but he was also very motivated as he began to track my existence on Google Earth and tell me how he could just imagine me playing on the swingset in the giant yard that accompanies the house. He also asked me about my neighbors in the apartment complex that sat across the street from my house as well as the dogs that were in the satellite photo on his computer screen. And when he cited my work address incorrectly, that he also Google (un)Earthed, I told him that was totally correct, and when he sent me a severed head in box I thought maybe I should change my phone number and name and move to the Yukon where satellite images are totally boring and the internet kind of doesn't exist.

3. If he insists on telling you his rape fantasy, don't hesitate to decline the free meal in front of you.

Ladies, I know this is tough. He seems okay and is a little cute, and to top it off he bought you dinner that wasn't from a drive-thru, but if he blurts out that he had a rape fantasy about you and that he is just dying to tell you about it and you haven't even taken a bite of your awesome food, then don't do what I did and stay for the food. Instead of daintily crossing my silverware on the plate to indicate that I no longer wanted to consume it or be around this jagoff, I wolfed down that steak like nobody's business as he told me about how he wanted to choke me out before blowing a load on my face. I nodded along politely and threw in a few raised eyebrows and filler words like "okay" and "hmmm interesting."

When I told him that I liked to write he immediately indicated that he hated to read. But, eventually, my plate was empty and as soon as he paid for the meal I quickly put on my coat and said goodbye. And because he had just indulged me with his rape fantasy, he followed quickly behind, begged me to stay, and promised me a wonderful evening involving "dessert"—specifically, my "cherry pie." It wasn't enough that he had to choke me out, but did he have to ruin Warrant's hair metal ode to the female form? I can't tolerate ridiculous puns involving desserts or blasphemy toward my hair metal gods.

4. If he tries to seduce you in a Motel 6 parking lot, don't bring him home to meet the parents.

Motel 6 parking lot
Firmly unfertile grounds for courtship.
I blame this date for my sworn hatred of The Cheesecake Factory. Not only did he try to put his head on my shoulder, feed me, and talk me into installing brass ceiling tiles in our future imaginary home, but this particular date refused to get out of my vehicle after I had experienced not the most comfortable date of my life. When I assured him that I was never going to bear our imaginary children, he thought I might change my mind with offerings of Keystone Light and a used interstate motel bed. When I decided that I didn't feel like getting murdered, I gathered enough strength to slightly push him out of my vehicle and speed away with the door still ajar.

5. If he burns books, he might be Hitler.

This one proved challenging because I'll be damned if he thinks I'm not interesting. When I told him that I liked to write he immediately indicated that he hated to read. He not only hated to read, but he took great pleasure in burning most of his school books once he graduated from not only high school, but community college as well. When I told him that I thought he might get a kick out of my pieces, he firmly declined to read anything of mine and went back to eating his steak. When I asked him his stance on the blacks, Jews, and homosexuals, he perked right up and I couldn't get him to stop talking. Needless to say I'm not into genocide and illiterate fucktards.

6. If he bangs on your door at 3am screaming that you are an evil bitch, he ain't no John Cusack.

John Cusack holding a boombox in Say Anything
You can't just say ANYTHING.
In an attempt to thwart this romantic soul, I gave him an incorrect address and then drifted off into a wine coma. Little did I know I would be awoken by multiple text messages, phone calls, whiny voicemails, and shouts of love as he drunkenly pounded on my door and screamed of my whoredom and witchcraft to the entire neighborhood while his friends heckled on, the accompanying band to his serenade. Although I may have a soft spot for romantic declarations, especially those involving boomboxes thrust above heads, I decided to shut off my phone and return to my coma, the wine too seductive with its promises of restful nights and hopeful tomorrows.