First Dates, Friends with Benefits, and Freedom
“Will you be my girlfriend? Circle Yes or No”
Yes, folks. This is an actual scrap piece of paper note I received in my 7th grade locker one day — unfortunately from a boy that I thought of as a brother.
What I find comical about this memory, though, is that it’s probably still one of the most romantic gestures I’ve ever received. And isn’t it funny how the older you get, the more convoluted dating becomes? It was so easy as a kid — you like someone, you tell them (or you ask them out on a piece of scrap paper).
Venturing into my freshman year of college, and meeting a lot of cute guys, had me with 5 different Google tabs open — searching absurd questions like: “Signs that a guy likes you” or “Does he like you as more than a hookup” or “What does it mean when it takes a whole day for a guy to respond to your text?” Girl, trust me, I’ve been down that rabbit hole.
Even if you had an inkling that a guy liked you, it was never easy. It was never straight-forward like middle school. You had to play it cool; you had to wait at least a couple hours to respond to his texts; you had to hide any feelings of vulnerability for fear of getting rejected. Hell, my first boyfriend and I hooked up for a whole year — typical “situationship” — before realizing that we both actually liked each other enough to date — all because of those stupid games.
After that relationship, the remainder of my college experience was riddled with friends with benefits situations. In reality, they were all a lot of fun but some of them kind of ended up as dumpster fires due to someone catching feelings (and let me tell you, it wasn’t me because I was in my Samantha Jones stage after getting out of a relationship). There is one guy that I actually still talk to and shoot the shit — rare and lucky for that one.
Once I graduated, I decided to chill out because deep down, I knew that those hookups were the result of me trying to mask the pain I had from my breakup. It was time to “date me” as fucking corny as that sounds.
Fast forward to now, and I’ve realized that being single is actually fun. I’m remembering what it was like before I dated anybody — the complete liberation of not having to answer to anybody, the doing whatever the hell you want whenever the hell you want, and basking in the glory of not questioning whether a guy actually likes you or not.
Lo and behold, I’ve started to finally reach a point where I feel more confident in myself and in knowing that I don’t need a guy’s validation to feel worthy of love. Now to be completely transparent, I still fall into that ditch sometimes. Don’t even try to fake me out — you know how good it feels to feel wanted. But I think there’s a feeling of freedom once you realize that you are totally capable of having a good time while being on your own and knowing that, in all honesty, you are a badass bitch with or without a man.
Now let’s be real. Being with someone is fun, too, okay. No denying that. And since I’ve reached a point of feeling better about myself I’ve taken to dabbling in one of the infamous dating apps — Hinge. A step up from Tinder at least, right?
I’ve talked to my fair share of guys on this thing — most of them, in reality, were dead ends. Alas — enter Parker (using a fake name for obvious reasons). Parker and I have been talking for a month — a whole month, people! We seemed to bounce off of each other right from the get-go which is typically a green flag for me since I love a guy that gets my banter.
The big step was going on an actual date — that, I have never done before on this app. Torn between deciding whether he would be a catfish or my serial killer, I decided to take the plunge anyways and was admittedly taking deep breaths in the car minutes before seeing him.
You know what, though? He wasn’t a catfish or my serial killer. We hugged off the bat, grabbed some beers to loosen the nerves, and talked for hours. The minute we sat at the beer a couple of older men started teasing him for ordering a Bud Light.
“How long have you guys known each other?”
“Uhm… like, 5 minutes.”
It broke the ice right away, and then we were off to the races chatting about everything under the sun. He was admittedly very cute and very nice —both very important to me. He seemed a little nervous which was refreshing (and so cute, by the way) for a change — I was with a full-blown self-assured extrovert for a couple years so it felt more natural to be with someone more like me. We laughed, we bonded over many “me too!” moments, and the hit, line, sinker was when the check came and I reached for my wallet and he insisted it was on him (swoon).
When my friend asked if we’d kissed goodbye, I said no — just a hug. And to be honest, I wasn’t too disappointed. I mean, kissing a guy I’ve only really known (in person) for 2 hours seemed just a tad fast for me. And after thinking about it, I’m also not too disappointed that he didn’t try to — because it’s nice for once being with a guy that isn’t instantly trying to stick his tongue down your throat. I mean, hell, it’s about time I start trying to take things slow.
This feeling is nice. That fluttery feeling in your stomach when you realize you kinda actually like someone. And someone you met off an app — I never thought in a million years! I know I’m already jumping the gun but all I can think of now is the next time I get to see this guy. For now, I’m reveling in that simplistic middle-school feeling of having a crush and wondering where it’ll go.
