Church and Seizure

Story Sent in by Eric:

Howard and I met at a party. He was the most gregarious and funniest guy in the room, and I was, at first, pretty intimidated to approach him. But I finally did strike up a conversation with him, and he put me at ease. After we spoke for a little while, we traded numbers.

On my first date with him, we went to a nice restaurant right on a beach. After a little while, he scratched his leg and said, "Uh-oh. My leg's itchy. That might portend a seizure."

"You have seizures?" I asked him, "What can I do?"

"Yeah, epilepsy. They can strike at anytime. I should be okay for now, though."

There were no major medical issues on that date, and it otherwise went well. I tried to set up a second date with him, but he was busy for a few weeks. I finally pinned him down, and he asked me, as we were setting up plans, if I had ever been to... the same restaurant we had gone to on our first date.

"Yeah," I said, "We were there our first time out, remember?"

A long silence, then, "Yeah! Yeah! I had such a great time with you that I had forgotten!"

Hmm. Something wasn't quite right, here, but I still liked the guy and we set up a second date in a nice part of town. I imagined a walk, lunch, and maybe even a trip to a nearby amusement park.

When we met up, he insisted on lunch, first. We had it, and during the meal, he scratched his leg again in that weird way.

"Seizure?" I asked him.

He gave me a look of amazement and said, "Y-yeah! Sorry, yeah. They're, they can hit at anytime..." He was clearly nervous about something. Maybe it was the seizures, or maybe it was something else.

He didn't have any issues during lunch, but afterward, when we were on a walk, he suddenly stopped, grabbed his head, yelled, "Aagh, seizure!" then darted, his head in his hands, toward a church. He smashed into it with a bang, full tilt, then fell backward, into the parking lot, stunned.

I ran to him and knelt at his side. I asked him, "Are you all right?"

He moaned and said, "Yeah. I-I'm sorry, I think you're taking up too much nearby oxygen, and I need as big a supply as I can. Can you give me some space?"

That was odd. I asked him, "How much space. Should I call someone?"

He said, "No, don't call anyone... I don't know. A mile or two ought to do the trick. Sorry. I just need... the... oxygen."

I realized then that this was his way of telling me that he didn't really want to be out with me, anymore. I took it graciously, told him I hoped he'd feel better, and since then, I've given him miles and miles of space.


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Everyone has bad dates. Everyone should have equality. A Bad Case of the Dates supports equal rights for same-sex couples.