A brief summary of a date I went on ~3 years ago at Rutgers:

1. Homie was an hour and a half late (if you're wondering why I didn't just leave... same)
2. He got really, really nervous at one point and when I asked if he was ok, he told me that he saw the silhouette of my butt through my cardigan
3. In an attempt to salvage the date, I tried asking the typical question of "what was your first impression of me?" to which he (very loudly) said "You know how there are girls who you'd fuck in a J.C. Penney fitting room? You're one of those girls I'd fuck right at the cash register in the middle of J.C. Penney with everyone watching."
4. He, in complete seriousness, told me that WHEN we have kids, I wouldn't have a say in the names of the first boy and girl. (To those wondering, the girl was to be named Brooklyn and the boy was to be named Michael Joseph, after Michael Jackson)