DisasterStory – It's Not Me, It's You (Las Vegas)

Dating Disasters

We all have that one story. The one where you swore off dating apps forever, questioned humanity, or considered joining a convent. Don’t keep it to yourself — feed us your chaos so we can roast it publicly for the greater good (and cheap laughs).

What We’re Looking For:

First dates that went off the rails faster than a Dollar Store rollercoaster.

DM exchanges that belong in the Smithsonian of Bad Decisions.

Ghosting, love-bombing, catfishing, or anything that made you think, “Am I on a hidden camera show?

Basically, if it made your group chat scream “WTF,” we want it.

What You Get:

Eternal bragging rights.

Your story immortalized in live comedy chaos.

A chance to traumatize strangers with your pain (in a good way).

How This Works:

Fill out the form below with your tragic tale.

Choose if you want us to use your real name, a cute nickname, or an unhinged alter ego.

Accept that you will get zero royalties, but possibly free therapy-through-laughter.

Name (aka your roast victim tag) *

Your regret inbox? *

If we ever stop procrastinating and send event updates, do you want in? *

Consent.... Because Consent Is Sexy.

I consent to having my submission used during the show, on social media, and/or in future “It’s Not Me, It’s You” content, recordings, and merchandise.

By submitting this form, I confirm that I am doing so of my own free will (and not under duress, thirst, or a post-breakup spiral). I grant full permission for my submission—edited, paraphrased, dramatized, or re-enacted—to be used publicly, worldwide, in perpetuity, and I understand this consent is irrevocable (aka I can’t change my mind later).

I affirm that I own the rights to everything I’m submitting, that it does not infringe on any third-party rights, and that I will not hold “It’s Not Me, It’s You” or its affiliates liable for any claims related to its use. Basically: don’t send us something you stole unless you’re cool with the original owner seeing it on a T-shirt.

I waive any right to compensation, royalties, or legal action (no matter how wildly successful this becomes). I also agree not to sue, because we are poor, and any profits will likely be used for alcohol (for research and reward purposes), therapy we won’t attend but fully support, and emotional support snacks.

This agreement is governed by the laws of the State of Nevada, because that’s where we live, love, and roast dating culture. *

Yes, I acknowledge this content will outlive me, my future marriages, and my burner accounts.

Your government name is safe — unless you specifically ask to be dragged by it. Thoughts? *

Episode Title of Your Mess (Optional)

Spill The Tea: Give Us The Details

- Where Did You Meet?

- What Went Wrong?

- How Did It End?

- Should We Stage An Intervention Or A Roast?

Got Receipts? Screenshots, awkward selfies, questionable outfit choices, or anything else that proves you actually lived through this disaster are highly encouraged.

Optional: Upload Anything That Adds To The Trauma (Ex: Chat Logs, Pics, Memes, Dramatic Selfies)