I Ghosted Her After a Good First Date

Kiss without tongue, please.

Photo by Callie Gibson on Unsplash

The first kiss was sensual: soft, slow, and without tongue.

I hate tongue.

Tongue wrestling can be erotic at times, but most occurrences of the licking muscle are unnecessary, distracting, and messy.

Everything before the kiss was delightful as well. Our conversation flowed, we laughed and teased each other and referenced moments in our text history, and we shared the same beliefs about many topics.

But somewhere deep inside me, a voice told me she wasn’t right for me or I shouldn’t push this relationship any further. This voice, this whisper I couldn’t dismiss or reject as I’ve done in the past.

I should’ve never been with my first girlfriend. We had many obvious differences, but my codependency didn’t allow me to leave. I accepted bouts of anger and rage and drunken nights and sexless months because I attached my value to being coupled with an attractive girl.

I was the caretaker and emotional napkin for my most recent object of infatuation — the girl I liked more than the others. I listened and offered solutions to her problems when what I really wanted was to kiss her and hold her and fuck her and kiss and hold her some more.

But my self-sacrificing behaviors and inauthenticity put me in the friend zone — a zone I fought like hell for a year to climb from to hopefully meet her love atop.

I ghosted my most recent date because I’m not willing to suffocate my needs and my self-love for a future that might only be perfect in my mind.

I made it subliminally clear that I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I’m not at that point in my life right now. I’m going to school and writing my ass off every day. I can’t throw a girlfriend into the cocktail of purpose and discipline and hope.

I wanted physical intimacy, and that’s it. Sounds vain and heartless and typical manish desires, but it’s genuine. Three years ago, I desired the opposite — a person I could share my life with because I felt secure on the path I was traveling. Covid threw a banana peel into the road, I crashed, replaced my bumper (and other goals and aspirations and beliefs), and chose a different path.

And honestly, I wasn’t that attracted to the girl I shared laughs, a few beers too many, and a sexy kiss with four nights ago. Again, sounds cruel, but that’s my truth.

Two more truths:

1. I don’t have sex with people I’m not attracted to. A standard my friends hate.
2. I’m not willing to lead a girl on to have sex with them. I understand the harm a relational experience can have on a woman’s heart.

So, continue a relationship that takes more than gives; that makes you feel unhappy, slimy, and inauthentic; that makes you hate them because you hate yourself?

Or, wake up, check your phone, put your phone down, drill your head back into the pillow hoping it’ll give you energy to continue on the path, do yoga to offset the harm of sitting your butt in a chair for twelve hours a day, end the night with a show, and your hands down your pants until you find your person — the one who’s on a path similar to yours?

Call me crazy, weird, masochistic, or a man who knows what he wants and isn’t willing to silence his true Self because I choose the latter.

But I digress.

The Inside & Out email list will help you achieve your internal and external goals.