Dinner, Disaster, and a Duck: My Worst First Date Ever

The Build-Up

There’s a certain thrill to a first date. That mix of nervousness and hope. The “what if” floating in your head as you carefully choose your outfit, rehearse witty one-liners, and pretend your hair will actually cooperate.

That was me on a Friday night, smiling at my reflection and telling myself, This could be it.

I’d met Ryan (name changed, because I’m not a total monster) through a mutual friend who swore we’d “click instantly.” Over text, he was charming — the right mix of funny and attentive. He even sent good morning messages that didn’t sound like they were copied and pasted from a Pinterest quote board.

When he suggested dinner at a “trendy riverside restaurant,” I said yes without hesitation. I imagined string lights, the sound of water, and maybe a live guitarist playing something soft and romantic in the background.

I even wore heels. And that, my friends, was mistake number one.

The Arrival

Mistake number two came as soon as I arrived.

The “trendy riverside restaurant” turned out to be a food truck parked on gravel by the riverbank. There were three picnic tables — all wobbly — and a few plastic chairs that looked like they’d barely survive a light breeze.

Ryan arrived fifteen minutes late, wearing oversized sunglasses… at 7:30 p.m., when the sun was already clocking out for the day. He didn’t apologize, just grinned and said, “You’re gonna love this place. They only serve one thing: duck tacos.”

I’m a vegetarian.

The Dinner

Trying to be polite, I ordered “just the toppings” and a sparkling water. What I got was a sad mound of shredded lettuce, two cherry tomatoes, and a $6 glass of water in a flimsy paper cup.

Ryan, meanwhile, dug into his duck tacos like he hadn’t eaten in a week, narrating every bite while launching into a monologue about his crypto investments, favorite protein powder, and the time he “almost got cast” for a reality TV show.

Halfway through, an actual duck waddled over, quacking as if to say, Hey, that’s my cousin you’re eating. Ryan found this hilarious and tossed it a piece of taco shell. The duck, in return, waddled right next to me… and pooped beside my shoe.

The Disaster Escalates

Just when I thought it couldn’t get weirder, Ryan announced, “Let’s make this date more exciting!” and suggested we race along the riverside path.

Now, keep in mind:

I was in heels.

I was already emotionally exhausted.

I had zero interest in turning our awkward dinner into an episode of The Bachelor: Marathon Edition.

I politely declined. Twice.

But Ryan took this as playful resistance, stood up, and started jogging in place like he was about to enter the Olympics. “Come on, live a little!” he said. Then he sprinted off — only to trip over a toddler’s abandoned scooter and nearly fall into the river.

The duck followed him.

The Escape

At this point, I’d mentally drafted my escape plan. I considered claiming:

A sudden migraine.

An urgent work call.

A mysterious need to be on a plane in the next 20 minutes.

I settled on, “I have an early meeting tomorrow.” Ryan barely noticed I was leaving because he was too busy trying to take a selfie with the duck, which had now become his unofficial sidekick.

The Aftermath

Back home, I kicked off my heels, made myself a peanut butter sandwich, and laughed so hard I nearly choked.

It had been a disaster in real time — but in hindsight, it was comedy gold. The awkward silences, the lettuce “dinner,” the duck poop, the impromptu sprint… it was so bad it became unforgettable.

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Thank you for reading

Best Regards: Habib