This doesn’t have to do with kink.
But I need to let this one out.
Because ohmylord, I am going to shoot myself in the face.
It was with a friend from Fet.
He messaged me a while back explaining an interest in making me his gurlfrand. I told him, right from the get-go: “I. Don’t. Date. I don’t have an interest in going out.” And since he seemed to take that very well, I didn’t see a problem continuing our conversation.
He had just bought a new car a few weeks ago and asked if he could take me out. This guy lives in CONNECTICUT. I live in NewfuckingYork. I told him several times, I was content with keeping an online correspondence. Noooo, I enjoy driving. I don’t mind the distance. Kay, sure. Let’s meet up. I’m not busy this Sunday. I say this all under the impression that it’s just a casual, friendly meet up between platonic friends.
He picks me up Sunday morning, I get into the passenger seat, and
“I’ve been waiting for this moment for four months.”
Things that he told me within the next ten minutes:
- He took the car to the car wash yesterday
- He shaved
- Bought a new shirt
- Contemplated buying me flowers
- Worried that I bailed on him last minute
- Wished he had gotten a hair cut
And I’m like: What did I just get myself into.
Don’t get me wrong. He was cute. 21. Just graduated from culinary school. Friendly. But…AUGH.
FAST FORWARD: We’re at a cute bakery I mentioned in one of our online conversations. We’re eating at a table, and I’m trying to play it cool and have a good time, when he goes: “I usually screw up the first date.”
EXCUSEEEEE ME? THIS IS A DATE?
“I really didn’t want to screw this one up.”
WOOOOAH THERE, COWBOY. SLOW DOWN.
“Like, I was so nervous this morning. Imean, I’ve been on dates here and there, but…GAH, lol.”
ISAIDSLOWTHEFUCKDOWN. WHATISGOINGONTHISISNOTADATE. WHYAREYOUDOINGTHISTOME. OHMYGODAREYOUSERIOUS.
FAST FORWARD: We’re walking down the street. He asks me if I’m working on campus.
“Oh, really? Where?”
“In the Fine Arts Department.”
“…Does it require you to take off your clothes?”
“Well that’s awkward.”
“You know, like two, three months down the road, it’s like, ‘Hey, you know that girl you just drew nude in your art class? Yeah, that’s my girlfriend.’”
Uh…you did NOT just refer to me as your future girlfriend.
FAST FORWARD: We’re at Nintendo World. I’m eyeballing these adorable pair of Mario green mushroom knee-high socks. They’re adorable, so I grab a pair and he comes up and takes a pair of the red mushroom knee-high socks.
“Now we have matching pairs!”
Matching knee-high socks? ARE YOU FUKGNSDLJFDNVSKJDBFK.
“Hey, let’s take a picture!”
“…Can we not?”
And he gives me this most awful sad face, so I oblige and force myself to smile for the most awkward picture I’ve ever been forced to be a part of. It was worse than my yearbook photo. That bad. He’s like :)))) and I’m like
FAST FORWARD: We’re walking down the street.
“You’re so adorable.”
And he tries to hold my hand. I have an aversion to body contact unless I’m okay with the person, so I instinctually pull my hand away. Not because I’m shy, but because I’m not okay with him touching me.
“Oh my god, did I do something wrong? I’m sooo sorry!” And he’s genuinely sorry for whatever grievous sin he’s convinced himself he had committed, and I’m feeling so, so, so bad for him. So I’m like, “Nooo, you didn’t do anything wrong!” *eyes twitching* And I grab his hand and I’m swinging it like there’s no tomorrow.
He thinks that’s cue to hug me close and kiss me on the head.
FAST FORWARD: I’m freezing. It’s cold, and we’re walking outside. I hug myself and he asks, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I’m just cold.”
“Well, if it wasn’t cold, then we wouldn’t be able to snuggle like this!” *GLOMP*
FAST FORWARD: He’s just talking to me.
“You know, I’m having a really good time.”
“That’s great.” *forced smile*
“I’ve been on other dates before, but it kinda gets discouraging, you know?”
“I’ve never been on a date before, so no, actually, I don’t.”
“Well, it’s just so hard to find this.” *makes a heart using his hands*
*eyes widen* “I don’t date.”
“Oh, yeah, of course, I won’t ask you to be my girlfriend on the first date! But who knows, on the second or third date, if everything goes well…”
“So, is there going to be a second date?”
And he gives me the most pained look on his face.
“We could keep in touch…”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No! Of course not! Psssh. Just, uh, um. Maybe.”
In the end, I end up giving him a half-assed yes/no answer and he takes it as an “okay” to make the two hour drive to my college in the next few weeks and take me to a movie.
FAST FORWARD: We’re talking about FetLife, because that’s how we originally got in touch. He says that he doesn’t really go on it that often anymore.
“Well, I joined on a whim, because my friend joined, and I just wanted to check it out.”
“Yeah, I’m not a big pervert or anything like a bunch of the people on it.”
WOAH, THERE. HOLD UP. WOULD NOW BE A GOOD TIME TO TELL YOU THAT I’M A SEXUAL SUBMISSIVE AND THAT I ENJOY GETTING FREAKY IN THE SACK?
“Yeah, I’m not into the ‘lifestyle’ or anything. That stuff’s a bit too weird for me.”
FAST FORWARD: We’re walking back to the car. I’m still cold. He says, “Don’t worry, we’ll cuddle and warm up back in the car.”
To conclude, I awkwardly avoid all attempts to hug/cuddle/kiss/touch in the car, and pretended to act like an innocent, oblivious shit until he drove me back home.
I’m all like,
FAST FORWARD: He’s dropping me off back at my apartment.
“I had a good time.” (LIE.)
“So there’s going to be a date #2?”
“Do you have a Skype? We should Skype.”
“No, I don’t.” (LIE.)
“You should make one.”
“Okay, will do.” (LIE.)
FAST FORWARD: He uploads our picture together on Facebook. A coworker of mine from a while back comments on it and says: “A BOYFRIEND! FINALLY!”
I’m trying to save my ass and I write back in Korean all like, “NO. NO. NO. THAT GUY IS NOT MY BOYFRIEND. I DON’T LIKE HIM. NO.”
And she replies in English: “But you two look like you belong together! MAKE HIM A BOYFRIEND! BE INVOLVED!”
And since then, I’ve been avoiding all emails and messages from him, because I know I’ll have to politely reject this guy, and I know he’s going to cry me a river. Literally. I cannot begin to describe how awkward/scared/icky/terrified/awful/horrified/guilty/trapped/confused I felt.
That was my first date.