Speed Dating is a scary story about a man who wants to find true love, but can’t find a woman that lives up to his expectations.
At the age of 30, I was still single. My mother kept asking me when I was going to find myself a nice girl and settle down. I assured her it was only a matter of time, but I knew that was a lie. I hadn’t been out on a date in over six months. All of my friends were already married and some of them even had kids. I was beginning to feel left out.
That’s why I decided to try speed dating.
The event was being held at a fashionable bar in the city center. I dressed in my best shirt and pants, splashed some aftershave on my neck and left the house. When I reached the bar, I walked in, trying to project an air of confidence. I was shocked when I saw how many other people had shown up. I counted 21 men and 21 women in total.
The host explained the rules of speed dating. The women all sat around at separate tables, while the men moved from table to table, spending three minutes talking to each woman. When the buzzer sounded, it meant your three minutes were up and it was time to move on.
When everyone was ready, the buzzer sounded and the speed dating began.
The first girl I sat down with was 21, much too young for me. The second was forty-something, much too old. The third woman was really ugly and I caught a very bad smell from the fourth. The fifth woman seemed nice, until she mentioned that she was divorced and had five children already. The sixth happened to let slip that she had a history of drug addiction and the seventh had a weird-shaped head. I began to give up hope of ever finding a perfect match.
The eighth lady was very fat and sweat was rolling down her face. The ninth had false teeth that fell out when she started to talk and the tenth was much too skinny. The eleventh woman couldn’t speak English. The twelfth had a squished nose that made her look like a pig. The thirteenth kept farting throughout our time together and the fourteenth just stared at me and never said a word. I noticed, when she stood up, that she only had one leg and walked with a cane. I was glad when the buzzer sounded and I was able to move along.
The fifteenth woman had a terrible rash all over her body. I made the sixteenth lady laugh so hard that she threw up all over the table. The seventeenth seemed alright, except for the fact that she kept picking her nose and eating it. The eighteenth seemed attractive, but she had a deformed hand. The nineteenth was in a wheelchair. When I got to the twentieth woman, I threw up my hands in disbelief. She obviously had too much to drink and was curled up in a ball on her seat, snoring loudly.
Just as I was contemplating skipping out early and going home, I sat down opposite the final lady. She was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. She had long, flowing dark hair, bright, green eyes and a cute little smile. She was dressed completely in black – black dress, black shoes, black everything – but she had a very bubbly personality. Everything I said made her giggle.
Her name was Karen and she was 28 years old. She said she had qualified as a nurse, but she was currently unemployed. She had been married with two children, but after her kids died of cancer, her husband had abandoned her. I immediately felt sorry for Karen and praised her for keeping such an upbeat attitude despite all the tragedy in her life.
At the end of the night, we stayed chatting together and we got on like a house on fire. When it was time to go, I asked her for her number and we arranged to go out on a date the next evening. I couldn’t believe it. I had actually scored with a beautiful woman.
Things went very well and we began dating regularly. As the weeks and months passed, our relationship moved pretty quickly. It seemed as if we were truly matched for each other. After about seven months together, I decided to pop the question and asked her to marry me. Of course, she said, “Yes.”
After the wedding, I moved out of my small apartment and began moving my belongings into her home. I had a lot of boxes filled with old books and I asked if I could store them in her basement.
“Relax,” she said with a laugh, “I’ll bring them down there while you’re at work tomorrow.”
The next few months were great. We never got tired of each other’s company and I thought I had found true love. Unfortunately, something happened that shattered our blissful idyll and changed my life forever.
One Sunday, I was sitting in front of the TV, reading the newspaper. Karen told me she needed to go to the grocery store and pick up something for dinner. She kissed me on the cheek and, just as she was about to walk out the front door, I told her there was a book I needed to get from the basement.
“Oh, the door is locked,” she said. “Wait until I get back. I’ll go down there and get it for you.”
After she left, I became curious. All the time I had been living with her, she never allowed me to go down into the basement. She always came up with some excuse or other. I decided to explore while she was away. The basement door was locked, but after rummaging around, I managed to find the key, hidden at the back of a kitchen drawer.
As soon as I opened the basement door, I smelled a terrible, rancid stench. The entire basement looked as if it hadn’t been used in years. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. The concrete walls were crumbling and the wooden stairs were damp and rotten. When I reached the bottom of the steps, the smell was putrid.
In the corner, I noticed a box with an old video recorder and some VHS videotapes inside. A strange curiosity overcame me and I grabbed the box and brought it upstairs. After plugging the video recorder in and hooking it up to the TV, I inserted the first videotape and pressed play.
I never should have done that.
The video was extremely shaky and grainy. In the darkness, I could just barely make out the figure of a man tied to a chair. Another figure stood over him, wearing a black mask and dressed from head to toe in shiny black leather. A chill ran down my spine as I realized the figure was holding a large axe. Suddenly, to my horror, it lifted the axe above its head and brought it crashing down, slicing off the man’s hand. He screamed in pain as the figure delivered more and more blows with the axe. I watched in utter terror, unable to tear my eyes away from the screen. Each blow of the axe hacked off another piece of the man’s body until his arms and legs were lying in pieces all around him and he was just a writhing, bloody torso in a chair.
Throughout the carnage, the killer was giggling like a schoolgirl.
With shaking hands, I reached out and stopped the video. Just then, I heard a voice behind me.
“So you stumbled on my dirty little secret,” it said.
I slowly turned. My wife was standing at the door, dressed in a black leather bodysuit. In her hands, she was holding a large axe.
She began to giggle.
I don’t remember what happened after that. The next door neighbors must have heard my terrified screams and called the police. Four officers burst through the front door. They managed to tackle my wife and subdue her before she killed me. Then, they rushed me to hospital.
Of course, there was a big trial afterwards. My wife was found guilty and the judge gave her the death penalty. I was present at the execution. Just before they threw the switch on the electric chair, they asked her if she had any last words.
“It’s his own fault,” she yelled. “He never should have married me!”
Then, she giggled like a little schoolgirl as the executioner pulled the lever and electricity surged through her body. Five minutes later, she was pronounced dead.
Years later, I still have nightmares about her. I’ve been through therapy and the doctors say that, with time, I may be able to overcome the horrific trauma I experienced.
While I was in the hospital, I met a wonderful woman. She was my nurse and, over the weeks and months, we fell in love. She isn’t the most beautiful woman I ever met and she doesn’t have a perfect body. She lost an eye and three of the fingers on her left hand in a car accident. Despite all that, she is certainly the most loving and caring person a man could wish for. Inside, she has a heart of gold.
Last Summer, we got married and moved in together. She has helped me a lot. Whenever I read the newspaper, she turns the pages for me. Whenever I have an itch, she scratches it for me. She managed to restore my trust in women, but sometimes, late at night when I’m lying in bed, I still miss my arms and legs.