“I think a car ride is an intimate experience. For a period of time, two people are confined to a space. You get to know a lot from a person just by driving with them. My favourite dates are roadtrips…”
Date Expectations welcomes the first contribution on its page. Melissa* dropped us a note to share with us her story:
If anything, I’m guilty of setting my dating expectations too high. I expect butterflies, hours of conversation, the man sending you home; the whole enchiladas. As a (serial) monogamist who hasn’t been single for close to a decade, I had problems admitting that that’s not the game anymore. But I mean, why go out at all otherwise? I was faced with the reality and this was the story.
One fateful night, my girlfriend and I stumbled upon an empty club and decided to download tinder. I swiped right on one guy, who swiped right back at me. We had a good banter. So he asked me out. We went on three dates in total. It was a cold slap of reality check.
I was nervous on the first date. Luckily he played everything by the book. He picked me up, ordered wine, ordered dessert. He had so many brownie points that it pains me to say there wasn’t any chemistry! What’s going on there mother nature! So even after he brought up the stories of his ex, I was adamant to go out with him again. I mean, it has to work, right? He played by the book!
So we went out again, he picked me up after work and we went for dinner and drinks. No wine this time, which worked against my will to make this date a successful one. I was hit by the reality that we shared nothing – absolutely nothing – in common. He tried to ‘fix’ everything I did, which was awful.
I tried at jokes, to humor the sad situation I’m in. Strange twist of event, he was actually charmed by my humour and asked me out again. But this time I knew better to manage his and (more importantly) my expectations – I told him to wait for another two weeks.
“Perfect,” he said, “I’ll be travelling anyway.”
Great. So I didn’t push for it. We didn’t contact each other for two weeks straight and I actually started to forget about him.
Until two weeks later, he texted me, all worked up and upset because I didn’t contact him.
Huh?
This was one of the few ‘huh?’ moments in my life. Whenever two parties have working mobilephones with working 4G connection, a non-contact is a mutually agreed upon condition, no? Well at least that’s what I thought. And I felt bad, so I agreed again when he asked me out the third time.
The last time we met was in a cafe for brunch. Food was paltry bordering superficial, just like our conversations. He was evidently nervous. He had to burn two sticks before coffee. We caught up for an hour before I made up an excuse to leave. During the conversation though, for some unfathomable reason I mentioned I would be somewhere around his house the next day. Logic failed me but we agreed to meet (again!) the next day as as we were leaving.
Here’s the thing, I refused to let him send me home. I think a car ride is an intimate experience. For a period of time, two people are confined to a space. You get to know a lot from a person just by driving with them. My favourite dates are roadtrips and he’s just not someone I’d take roadtrip with.
So he walked me to the bus stop. My bus stopped while we were a few metres short. He then told me, I could run for the bus if I wish.
So I did. I didn’t think too far. We exchanged polite texts afterwards to thank each other for the company. I thought that’s the end of it.
The real cold slap dawned around 5AM the next day when we’re supposed to meet. He texted me that he was drunk. He told me to check with him an hour before we’re supposed to meet if, and I quote, “I’m not dead yet”. I told him to rest and have a good life, basically.
What I failed to understand was that he then told me the blow by blow accounts of what happened that night, with an amazing recollection for someone suffering a deathly hangover. I replied, man this isn’t working.
He told me, he wasn’t sorry.
That’s the end of it. Rather than placing his actions on a petri dish of a psychoanalytical microscope, I accepted the reality that after so long, I’m single again. I’m back in the game and it’s an unfamiliar territory. I accepted that I need to adjust my expectations. But chemistry? I think everyone needs to have chemistry to date. At least enough to last a car ride.
*Names have been changed, for obvious reasons, suckers.
The Date Expectations 