Another failed talking stage; why this one was more successful than the others
I went on a date the other week. It went well. Like, really well.
I haven’t been on a date since last December, which didn’t amount to anything except getting home while it was still light out and a random follow on LinkedIn. I didn’t care too much.
The date before that was in June which was honestly the downfall of any self respect I had left. Read about it here (second paragraph).
Anyway, I was nervous. This felt like one of those proper dates where you don’t just go to the local and smash 20 gin and tonics. He was taking me to dinner! At a restaurant of his choosing! For a cuisine he knew I liked!
Now I wasn’t here to fuck spiders. You know I had to hit him with the interview questions. What are your thoughts on marriage? Do you want kids? Are you pro-choice? Do you celebrate January 26th? All of his answers screamed green flags.
This may seem like a lot for a first date, but fast forward a few days and we started planning a second. I thought maybe now was a good time to discuss dating prospects. Like I said, I’m not here to fuck spiders. After years of dating fails and self reflection, I’ve got a solid understanding of what I’m looking for. I told him I was looking for something more permanent than a casual position (we had a whole job interview bit going), and sadly, the company was not ready to accommodate someone full-time.
While I’m sad that I didn’t get to pursue it further, I have come out of this talking stage feeling proud of myself; a rarity for me. Here are some things I did on the first date and the days that followed to avoid catching DUMB BITCHITIS (someone who struggles with their emotions and might not make the best decisions in terms of their relationships); something I have frequently been diagnosed with in past talking stages.
I stayed relatively sober
I have cut down pretty heavily on my drinking recently. The only occasions I find myself with a drink in hand is Friday work knock-offs or if it’s a special occasion such as a birthday. I hate the groggy, tired feeling that comes after drinking, but that’s nothing compared to the hangxiety the next morning, fearing what secrets you may have spilled. I had a total of 3 drinks across three hours, which gave me just the right amount of confidence to be fun and flirty, but not enough to have me throwing up on an Abbotsford street corner at 11pm and having 37 regrets the next morning. Being (relatively) sober lets you go in with a clear mind, and gives room for a more genuine connection.
I didn’t go home with him
Another reason why I wanted to moderate my alcohol intake was to avoid this. I’m aware that going home with someone isn’t an immediate contract for sex, but the implication is always there. Not that there was an invitation, but I knew that if I made the decision to go home with him, horny monkey brain would no doubt kick in, so I opted to call it a night at 10pm. I never used to be against sleeping with someone on the first date, but my mindset shifted when I realised I was having half-assed drunk sex with mediocre men who I wouldn’t be texting in a week's time. I have a pretty shitty track record when it comes to the sex I’ve had, and in the past year I’ve made a conscious effort to avoid having any more shitty sex. I’ve set a boundary with myself that the next time I decide to get down and dirty, I want to be sober. I also want it to be with someone I genuinely care about. I’m not going to allow myself to be seen as someone who is funny enough to hang out with and hot enough to sleep with but not good enough to date (not to say that this was the case, but it’s an awful feeling).
I didn’t text first
Instead of what I usually do (ie: getting too ahead of myself and blurting out something like “I had a really nice time can I please see you again please I’m in love with you when can I set the wedding date please I’ve already picked out baby names”), I had made the decision to not text first the next day. This wasn’t about upholding patriarchal standards in the sense that men have to be in control and make the first move, but rather allowing myself time to understand how I feel about a person before rushing into some quick validation. I talk all about it in my blog post here (tl:dr, I miss the chase). He actually messaged me at 2am that night (yeah yeah it’s no midday “thinking about you text” but still). But alas, the pressure was off! We were still texting after the date! Success!
I didn’t settle
The biggest thing that I’m proud of is that I didn’t settle for less. When he told me he wasn’t ready for something serious, I took it on the chin. In other instances I would’ve back pedalled. I would’ve tried to explain that I wasn’t in any rush to get into a relationship, that it’s still important for me to get to know a person before jumping into anything serious. In more severe cases, I would reach a weak point and think to myself “maybe I will settle for less just to be able to see them again”. I would sit there begging a man for just an ounce of attention. I would reduce myself to nothing but a “fuck buddy” to receive one quarter of the intimacy I so desperately craved. In doing so, I wouldn’t just be undermining myself, but simply embarrassing myself.
Last year, I told myself I would never let myself feel that way again. It’s tough work putting your heart out on the line only to be told time and time again “I’m not ready”, but as I recently read in “The Space Between”, I would rather live in loneliness than fall into the arms of the wrong person for the sake of company. I refuse to let myself be exposed to dumb bitchitis ever again.
Although it didn’t work out, I feel like I have reclaimed my power. I don’t know. I feel - nay, I KNOW, I handled myself well. For the first time in a long time I feel in control of my emotions. How’s that for growth?