A couple of years ago I gave into a friend's blind date scheme. I exchanged a few emails with this "friend of a friend" and eventually set a date to meet for drinks. Read on; then tell me, is this not the best worst-date story or what?
Some backstory: A few days before our date, I decided to go chasing after a New York City bus on an icy night and had a very intimate face-to-asphalt encounter with 2nd Avenue. Strangers behaved quite ethically and picked my unconscious self off the busy street, laid me down on the sidewalk and called an ambulance. One emergency room visit later, I was missing most of my front teeth, had had the shards of those teeth suctioned out of my lips - which, might I add, had ballooned into a grotesque version of Angelina's--and had a nice pattern of stitches decorating my mouth.
Trust me, I didn't look so hot by the time the date rolled around (I mean, who looks hot with a broken face?) so I tried to give the mystery man a pass; he didn't take it.

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