50 First Dates 2004 Ok.ru

[Karina Edling]

Thisis one of the hard ways (maybe the hardest) to learn that chicken parm is not actually a great first-date food. It's the type of food you should order only after you've already farted in front of the person you're eating with. But I really like chicken parm. So there I was, slurping up angel hair pasta, specks of red sauce soaring onto my cheeks.

The date (I'll call him Will) and I met through a friend. I was 21, fresh off a breakup, and in the best shape of my life. He was 23 and knew what he wanted to do with his life (finance, of course). At the time, someone's having an inkling of what they wanted in life was the most attractive quality I could think of, perhaps because I could barely decide what to eat for breakfast each day.

Will had the whole "New England prep guy" thing down to a science. I always told myself I didn't like dating New England prep guys, but somehow, they were the ones I always ended up with. He wore salmon-colored shorts and had teeth so straight I could practically see the retainers he almost certainly still wore, nightly. I could tell he never missed a haircut.

For our date, Will took me to the North End in Boston. He said he wanted to take me to "a nice place." As I walked through the dimly lit Italian restaurant's doors, his hand on the small of my back, I could tell he was the type of guy who expected my eternal gratitude for being taken to "a nice place."

After a particularly large inhalation of pasta, I felt a piece of spaghetti lodge in the back of my throat. Panicked, I looked up at Will. Luckily, he was still deep in the middle of giving Google (and, by extension, his ego) a verbal hand job, so my lack of oxygen went unnoticed.

I tried to take a sip of water to ease the stubborn piece of pasta down my throat, but all I could manage was a terrible gurgling noise before the water fell out of my mouth and back into my glass. I realized that this was possibly the most vocal I'd been on the date thus far.

I tried to cough but was only able to produce more noises, not unlike how I imagine an angry, dying raccoon might sound. When it became clear that none of my apparently very subtle clues could disrupt Will's Google monologue, I finally put my hands on my throat in the official "I'm choking" position.

I excused myself to go to the bathroom and chuckle at my own misfortune in peace. When I returned, we finished our meals in relative silence. I wasn't surprised when he didn't go in for the kiss, or call me again. I guess watching me regurgitate my meal wasn't a huge turn-on for him.

I have gone on so many first dates as people other than myself. I have gone on first dates in the role of "cool sports girl," citing teams and players whose names I only knew because I overheard my father mention them while I sat nearby reading a book. I have played "cultured art girl," racking my brain for obscure artists and the era they belonged to, all the while wishing I hadn't spent so much time texting during my Art History course. I have been dozens of girls, but I didn't want to be them anymore. It got exhausting. They weren't me.

Perfect first dates are not me. More me, I think, would be a first date that is good in spite of catastrophe. I want to have a good first date though the server gets my order wrong, and the walk home is freezing, and the trains stop running. I want a good first date with someone who tries to help me when I choke on my chicken parm, and who laughs with me when I survive it.

Because I'm not cool sports girl, or cultured art girl, or poised WASP girl. I am the girl who knows too many Harry Potter quotes and who doesn't quite understand what's ever going on with Pluto as a planet (or not). I am the girl who laughs at her own jokes.

Rejection is difficult. I think we can all agree on that. Recently, I found myself wondering if it's OK to ghost after a bad first date. The answer is complicated. Of course it's something you're allowed to do, as you don't owe anyone your time or care. However I was wondering what form of rejection would feel right for me. In the past, I have actually taken pride in being able to handle rejection. I even thought I was good at it until I was faced with a challenge: rejecting someone else.

When it came to these so-called, "so-so" dates, I usually found the person interesting. And we had a nice time talking over some food and a drink. It was just that I didn't feel that thing you feel when you've found someone really right for you. Eventually, I got burnt out on dating, I started canceling first dates without even going on them, and I even considered deleting my dating profiles. I was just too afraid that I would have to eventually reject someone.

And the responses were validating! Finally an affirmation that this is a hard thing to do from someone. "Letting things fade out" is something that a lot of people seemed to understand on Tinder, but the logistics are delicate.

"Letting things fade," as this person suggested, has so much ambiguity to it. I always get stressed when I continue talking with someone after a date I know I didn't connect with. So I continued asking the same question to more of my matches to see what others thought.

Here was a response that guided me down a path I both knew and was surprised by. It was direct evidence that, even though rejecting someone sounded scary, ghosting was far more likely to damage someone's feelings. And my ultimate goal was not hurting people.

Again, here is another resounding vote against ghosting. This person also feels like being direct about not being interested and ghosting are equally challenging. This person describes fading out well, and also mentions that it's hard to be straightforward because it feels too hurtful. Despite not wanting to be upfront, this person makes a great case against ghosting. It's clear that most people that have been ghosted know how much it stings, and they don't want to do it to someone else.

This was another helpful answer. This person explained that if things don't go well, both individuals decide not to follow up. They also mentioned something creative: If a date is not what they are looking for they simply say, "Sorry, I'm not looking for anything this serious." I respect that tactic and have definitely used it. Even if the key factor is that I am not looking for something serious with that specific person. Even though it's not entirely honest, I think it is a valid and safe way to communicate your unavailability for a partnership with someone.

I say this is a safe way because, unfortunately, sometimes people don't listen to a rejection when you communicate your honest feelings about not wanting to be with them. It's always important to remember you can reject someone because you don't owe anyone your time or romantic attention.

Consent is always critical, and that includes something as simple as walking away from someone because you're not interested. I appreciated this answer because I began to feel less alone in my fear of letting someone down more directly.

Leave it to a Tinder match to answer what I have been wondering for basically all of 2018: how to let someone down in an honest, direct, respectful way, even if it might be a little bit of a hard pill to swallow. This person was brief and direct. When they aren't interested, they simply say, "Hey I had a good time, but I didn't feel a romantic connection, so I don't wanna lead you on." I think I knew it was that simple all along, but something about hearing how a potential match might word things made it click in my brain.

I think the important part here is to remind ourselves that a rejection is most frequently not about the person being rejected, but about the boundaries, consent, and desires of the person doing the rejecting. Establishing boundaries for yourself, and enforcing them, is an act of self-care and nothing you should feel guilty for doing. Even if it means a potential romantic interest will be let down. When it comes to consent it's imperative to listen when someone states what they want and respect what they have stated.

In the end, I really enjoyed everyone's responses to my questions and I was grateful that my Tinder matches even considered responding to such a straightforward question. And it definitely cleared the air. I found that I am not the only one that struggles with the idea of what to do when I am not feeling "all in," and I also realized that sometimes, rejecting my dates can be as simple as saying exactly how I feel. Being the barer of bad news doesn't make me a bad person. I am simply learning to how better care for myself.

During my past year and a half of singledom, I've become a serial ghoster. In case you've somehow been lucky enough not to hear about ghosting, allow me to enlighten you. Ghosting is the most recent trend in ending things with someone you're seeing, where you basically freeze them out by not responding until they get the hint. But before you start to get all judgmental, hear me out.

I only ghost first dates that I'm not interested in seeing again. Examples include: The date that forced me to use a coaster and referred to his mom as "mother." The date who proudly told me the story of how he cursed out an older woman for trying to steal his parking spot, and went on to provide other examples of women who "can't drive." The date who I actually would have seen again, had he not followed our first date up with a 1 a.m. Netflix and Chill invitation.

But I've also learned some tough lessons during my year and a half of ghosting on the regular. For example, that ghosting actually isn't a one size fits all fix for ending things. Here are a few that have really stuck with me.

In most cases, if you're going to ghost on someone you have no interest in dating again, there is no benefit to deciding to answer their text messages. But one such exception I experienced was Dave*, a guy I went out on a first date with that fell into the category of, "I had a great time but I'm just not interested in seeing you again." I know that you're rolling your eyes right about now, but when people say that it's the truth.

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