Disastrous dates anonymous...

We’ve all been there.

Whether you’ve showcased your two left feet while climbing doorsteps, your wine glass swatting skills as you spill onto her lap or your tumbleweed-attracting, foot-in-the-mouth conversation starters, odds are you’ve had a bad date or two.

Sometimes the “A” game disintegrates into a “D.”

Fess up to it. Get it out in the open. Practice your version of disastrous date therapy, Casanova-you-ain’t. Babe Ruth struck out 1,330 times, and people still seemed to tolerate him.

Besides, what’s the alternative? Dating hubris may turn you into Darth Vader, and I don’t think he was too popular with the ladies.

Harnessing this spirit of dating humility, the following ditty is one such colossal dating failure involving this guy I know. Or maybe I saw it in a movie once. Yours truly has definitely never been a part of something so embarrassing…

Jack mustered up the guts to ask fun-loving, karaoke diva Jane out to dinner to get to know her better. He decides to take her out to a nice South African restaurant. They sit outside.

Conversation was flowing, fun was in the air and then the waitress brought out the entrees.

Jack ordered the lamb kabob dish, which featured massive hunks of meat.

As Jack was in the middle of telling a story, he forked a piece of the succulent baah-beque and shoved it in his mouth.

Breaking news: lamb meat is chewy.

Jack might have been too ambitious with the fork job.

Before long, he starts choking on the piece, so much so that he’s having trouble coughing and breathing.

With headlines whizzing through Jack’s mind that read “Man dies on first date,” he stands up, grabs his chair and gets ready to perform a self-Heimlich. CPR-certified Jane scurries over and positions herself to pump the piece out of Jack.

Seconds before the moment of truth, Jack is able to work out the chunk and spit it into a napkin.
Luckily, their table was tucked away in a corner, so other diners were oblivious to the made-for-Hollywood theatrics.

Geez, Jack.

Momma always said not to chew with your mouth full. Who knew that tidbit would come in handy more than 20 years later in your adult dating life?

Sketchiness defined: Where does Facebook curiosity end and stalking begin?

This is the wrong era to be a fan of the blind date.

Facebook, MySpace, Googling and a cascade of online dating sites have made anonymity almost impossible. Mark Zuckerberg and his tech friends are turning chance encounters at the barbeque or local bar into scavenger hunts for facts and photos.

Call it the social networking background check, an exercise few will admit to but many perform.

Perhaps you and Betty had a mind-blowing conversation that thrusted you into a state of nirvana, or maybe you adored the way Billy stretched his coat over the puddle for an old woman. “If only I had some way to see him/her again,” you ponder longingly from your Monday morning quarterback recliner.

For better or for worse, now you do. And Mr./Ms. Interest doesn’t even know about the probe you’re performing.

John Rolfe had to ask Pocahontas for her longhouse address. Kevin Arnold had to ask Whinny Cooper for her phone number. I’m sure at some point, Cory Matthews asked for Topanga’s Instant Message screen name.

Nowadays, no question is needed, and the Web becomes a convenient crutch for the less bold.

But when does a backup option for the more cowardly date initiators start to veer toward the “To Catch a Predator” realm of sketchiness? When does innocent curiosity become morbid?
Unfortunately, there is no set rulebook except the one written into your conscience.

Old schoolers will say: “If you are interested, if you want to know more about him/her, if you want the date, suck up your anxiety and ask for the number and the date face-to-face.”
Zuckerberg, who — for the record — has a lady friend (!?), and his tech cronies would probably say: “Facebook is a digital-age version of the Yellowpages. It’s there to connect people.”

So is the Facebook look-up the easy way out or the easiest way in for the reluctant? Will “how we met” stories told at weddings soon include “we first got to know each other on Facebook?” Or will Facebook and its relatives spark more romances and leave less people lonely on a Saturday night?

Let the angel and devil standing on your shoulders weigh the issue, but from this guy’s recliner, there’s something not organic about the whole thing.

The fun in dating is gradually getting to know someone as you sit across from Interest at your favorite Italian bistro and stroll through conversation with some wine and marinara sauce. Discovery sans a profile check is exciting, and it prevents stereotypes from creeping into your head that can taint your understanding of someone before you actually know them.

Maybe I can friend Kevin Arnold on Facebook and ask what he thinks…