I look back on it now and think the incident was really funny. Even though I've had some bad dates since, that was pretty much my worst.
Not really a date, but with a slightly similar conclusion:
I met this guy at a Fort Lauderdale gay bathhouse in 1997. Kindy swanky place, really quite upscale, where I had a full membership. He took me to his private changing room rental, which naturally included a bed (a built-in bunk, sorta nautical), where I fucked him.
I'd been there for about 5 hours and was exhausted, after umpteen fucks & blowjobs, and said I was leaving now. He invited me to join him for coffee at a place downtown on Las Olas (for guys here who know this area), and I agreed.
We took a little outdoor table on the sidewalk. He told me he was a spiritual healer, and some kind of psychic, things I neither believe in nor care to hear about. But he started lecturing me on my own health, and he began to diagnose all the things he "sensed" were wrong with me.
He didn't have a problem with my being gay, nor himself, either, but rambled on about some other vague psychic disorders I had. He also predicted my future, along with all kinds of outlandish nonsense. Then he asked to examine my palm, which I gave him.
After a moment he clutched it tightly, and began to literally shout: "The power of Christ compels you! You will be healed! The power of Christ compels you! You will be healed! The power of Christ compels you!"
Holy shit, I thought to myself, this guy is totally fucking insane. Do I run now, or try to act calm and see if he settles down? Meanwhile I notice the other customers sitting around us are staring in shock at his loud antics. I felt like a total fool sitting with this raving lunatic. I decided to try to get him to quiet down, and then get the Hell outta there.
Finally he did settle down, now pitching me his expensive personal healing program, and I began to make my goodbyes. He walked with me across the street to where my motorcycle was parked. He said he might not see me at the bathhouse tomorrow (a relief to know, meaning I could go without fear of running into him).
But now, after all the stupid psychic tricks he played on me, and the public humiliation he subjected me to, I decided to return the favor.
"Yes, I know," I replied. "I think... yes, I see you at the back of a church. You have to meet someone there. I think a female friend? At... 11 o'clock? Yes, it's 11. And you have to bring something, a book perhaps? Yes, something like a book, I see you holding a book. Well, anyway, I understand why you won't be at the club. Hope you have a good time with your friend."
His jaw dropped in complete shock, just staring at me. I got on my motorcycle, and as I put it in gear, turned to him and said: "You're not the only one who has your powers." Then I pulled away.
Well, my "powers" were the same as I judged his - fake. What had actually happened was that earlier, coming out of the club locker room, I came up behind him using a wall pay phone. I backed away to afford him privacy, but not before I heard him discussing his Sunday church arrangements.
I went to the lobby to wait for him without him seeing me while he was phoning, which made him think I hadn't overheard his conversation. Served the con artist right.