What I Knew at Fifteen
Sometimes we find valuable truths at a young age.
Back in my mid-20s, when I was trying online dating for the first time, I met a man for dinner. We exchanged enough messages through the app for me to know he was personable, smart, and interesting. He made me nervous in a good way.
Fifteen minutes into our first date, he asked if I’d ever been in love. I told the truth — once, at fifteen.
The object of my affection back then was a gangly, six-foot blond whose pale face turned pink when he laughed. He wasn’t cool or sophisticated, and he definitely wasn’t the kind of guy most of my friends would go for. But I appreciated his nerdy love of literature — we both went on to major in English — and the goofy fantasy stories he shared in the creative writing class where we met. He made me smile and he made me feel safe, and I adored him for that.
I didn’t go into those details with my date. Something about the way he asked made it feel like a challenge, so I kept my answer short, “Once, at fifteen.”
He scoffed. Fifteen was too young to know what love is.
Then he told me about how at twenty-two, he fell for a woman a few years older than him. He worked multiple jobs and saved to buy a house for them while she stayed home “doing nothing.” Because she was a negligent mother, he often spent time caring for her daughter. Eventually, she stole thousands of dollars from him — not once, not twice, but three times.
And through it all, he stayed with her until she left him, “because he loved her.” As he related his story, his eyes welled with tears.
I guess he thought I’d find the story touching. Maybe he thought it would convince me that he’d be a good partner.
Instead, it waived a huge, red flag.
I’d seen this before, men who think that putting up with a woman who mistreats them proves they are nice guys. They’re never at fault for any of it, of course — even when they fail to set boundaries, or hold their partners accountable, or see their partners as real people rather than built-up fantasies. And because they don’t know what a healthy relationship looks like, they date problematic women over, and over, and over.
I can’t entirely blame men. Our society doesn’t do much to show men how to have relationships, platonic or otherwise. In fact, we do a lot to discourage men from deeper connections. Women, at least, are allowed to have close connections with other women even if they’re as poorly socialized for dating as men.
I watched him tease our our waitress. She was wearing a University of Georgia t-shirt and told us how excited she was for the game later. He smiled benignly and quizzed her on the finer points of the game.
“That’s funny. You’re excited for the match, but you clearly don’t understand the game at all.”
She stared for a moment before replying with a smile, “I guess it’s not so much about football but the party. I’ll see my friends, and we’re getting wings and stuff. It’s just fun to get together.”
He scoffed at her the same way he had done me.
Later, he forcibly paid for our meals. (I always pay for myself on first dates and insisted I pay this time, but he got the check while I was in the bathroom.) As we left, I asked if he’d tipped the server or if I should leave a few bills.
“She doesn’t deserve a tip,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Why? I thought she did a good job. She did what she was supposed to.”
“She’s an idiot. She didn’t even know who Georgia is playing.”
Later that night, he called me and opened the conversation with, “We need to talk.”
I was taken aback. We’d had one lackluster date. What could we possibly have to talk about?
“I’m not sure this will work. You seem very…green. I’m a very sexual man. Very. I worry you won’t be able to keep up.”
I sat in stunned silence. I was still new to the very bizarre world of dating apps and the strange, manipulative rituals of some of their users.
“I’m afraid I might break you. Sexually.”
I stifled a laugh because back then I still felt obligated to be polite even when my date was not.
“Actually, I’m glad you brought this up because I wasn’t really feeling a connection either,” I told him.
This time he was silent. “But I like you,” he said.
“But you said we’re not compatible, and I agree.”
“But I bought you dinner. You owe me another chance.”
I did not give him another chance.
At fifteen, I was still mastering a clutch. I didn’t know how to make a budget or cook. I’d never had a job.
But this is what I did know at fifteen:
- That kindness is the sexiest trait of all.
- That mutual respect is a good foundation to start from.
- That when someone is good for you, you’ll leave their presence with a bounce in your step and lightness in your heart.
- That you should never settle for less than someone who, when you are with him, makes you feel like you’re the person you want to be.
If that’s idealism, then I am still an idealist these many years later. And I would have it no other way, because sometimes the truths we discover at fifteen are the truths we ought to believe in.
