The Breadstick Bandit: A First Date Disaster at Olive Garden

I matched with a guy on a dating app who seemed too good to be true. He had a golden retriever, ran his own business, and even quoted The Office in his profile. Basically, he was created in a lab to target women like me.

We agreed to meet at Olive Garden. Romantic? No. Comfortable for both of us? Yes. And also — unlimited breadsticks. Can’t go wrong.

I get there early and nervously text my group chat like I’m reporting for a mission in enemy territory. He walks in 10 minutes late wearing what I can only describe as the same outfit a kid wears to Sunday school: khakis, tucked-in shirt, and a belt with a Looney Tunes buckle. Still, he was cute, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

He sits down, doesn’t say hi — just nods and says, “Let’s do this.” Like we were about to rob the place, not split some chicken alfredo.

Here’s where it went from awkward to… unforgettable.

The waiter brings breadsticks. My date proceeds to shove four of them into his napkin and slip them into his cargo shorts pocket. I blink. He locks eyes with me and says:
“For later. You never know when carbs will save your life.”

I nervously laugh, thinking he’s joking.

He’s not.

Throughout the date, he keeps quoting weird conspiracy theories (“Birds aren’t real, they’re government drones”) and telling me how his ex once tried to poison him with essential oils.

As I’m halfway through my salad, he excuses himself to the bathroom… and never comes back.

Ten minutes pass. Then twenty.

Finally, the waiter comes back and tells me,
“Your date said you’d cover the bill. He left with the breadsticks.”

Yes. He ghosted me… with garlic breath and six stolen breadsticks.

I paid the check, left him a Venmo request labeled “Olive Garden Heist,” and went home to watch The Office alone — which, to be honest, was still better than being part of a carb-based crime spree.