One of the worst dates I ever had in my life was with a guy who refused to go anywhere without his entourage. This guy was a rock star wannabe who I found out later, lived rent-free in his parent’s basement. That’s how he managed to afford what he referred to as his “gear’ (a bunch of cables and an amp that looked like it was bought from Sears) and his pseudo-glam rock clothes.

Anyhow, after weeks of exchanging smoky glances with this guy in bars, he finally asked me if I wanted to go to the movies. He showed up at my door, a half an hour late, with a posse of friends, who to me looked like overgrown muppets, with one sporting a blue mop of hair, the other an orange mop and so on through the rainbow. I knew I was in trouble, when all six of them insisted on coming in and then started helping themselves to the contents of my cupboards.

While they sat around, draining the dregs of a dusty bottle of cranberry flavored vodka, my date asked if he could borrow my phone. While his posse made snide comments about my taste in home decor, I overheard him talking to another woman.

My Knight in Shining Armor, wearing his seventies velveteens, then announced that some person named “Pinkie” was about to join us …”OOH joy!” I thought. I should have bowed out then and there but a part of me just has to know how things turn out.

I took the object of desire aside, and asked him whether or not our date was going to happen, and he gave me a very sombre speech about how I had to understand, if I was going to go out with him, that he was public property.

We left, with me foolishly thinking that we were now on our way to the movies. Much to my surprise, we ended up in a cafe, where Pinkie (his ex girlfriend and yes she looked like the singer Pink) showed up with her new boyfriend. We then, at Pinkie’s demand, ended up going to a bar, where I paid lots of money, in the hopes of getting my date’s attention. The entire time, his entourage treated me like an outsider, and I had the feeling like they were snickering at me behind my back.

Every time my date went to the washroom to empty his bladder of the beers I was

buying him, one of the members of his posse would sit down beside me and give me advice, saying things like “You can’t handle him!” or “It takes a very special person to handle him … and “Even Pinkie couldn’t handle him and they were soul mates.”

At the end of the night, he said he was going to the washroom and just disappeared. I disappeared before his entourage could stick me with the tab!

When I got home I found out that someone had stolen all the condoms out of my bed side table. Hope he and his entourage had a happy orgy.