My last relationship ended a few months before the pandemic started. Just as I decided to “put myself back out there,” suddenly there was nowhere to go. But now, as the “unprecedented times” excuse looks increasingly flimsy, I am forced to confront the harsh reality that if I want to date someone again I need to do the unthinkable: go on dates.
While I would love to be the aloof, mysterious love interest in a 90s romcom who can’t be tied down, being chill has never been my strong suit. Early into the pandemic, I developed a painful crush on a friend (what queer among us hasn’t), and upon arriving back at Smith in the spring I tried to bounce back by once again downloading Tinder.
My mind would race in anticipation of each date, imagining what I should say or which questions I should ask. Afterward I would replay all the things I wish I’d said differently or moments that I worried I’d made myself look stupid or weird. I also noticed the phenomenon that when I went on dates with other women, we would spend hours stalling with conversation or sitting next to each other, not quite touching while watching a movie, both afraid to make a move. Ultimately, nothing would happen, and I would kick myself as I walked home.
I did manage to have a couple fun FWBs this summer. Though, I’m not sure everyone would consider hooking up with both of your exes and going out for dinners, hikes, and walks on the beach with each of them to be super “casual”? I also shared a drunken make-out with a boy who didn’t know my last name in an effort to have live my HGS dreams, but by the end of my drive home the next day, I had convinced myself that I should tell him how much I liked his laugh and devise a plan to ask him on a date (which never happened after he stopped replying to my DMs).
After these experiments at being the easy breezy, “who needs labels” college student I never was, I am resigning to the fact that what I really want is romance.
Dating comes with so many unknowns—how can you tell if someone is right for you? And how do you even focus on that when you’re so busy wondering what they think about you? When are you having a “gut feeling,” and when are you just projecting onto someone else an ideal of who you want them to be?
This fall, with consistent therapy and a steady Lexapro prescription, I feel better prepared to dive into the dating pool (or at least wade into the shallow end) without letting it alter my entire mood. I recently hung out with my friend and a boy she knew, and afterward decided to text him to ask him on a date. While the asking came with a lot of that painfully familiar anxiety, when he turned me down I was surprised to find it didn’t have much effect on my day. Even just a few months prior, this would have been enough to convince me that I had some deep flaw.
While this sounds like a sad ending to a narratively confusing tale, I chose to take it as a victory. A person had rejected me romantically and sexually and I was kind of…unbothered by it? It’s given me hope that I can keep getting rejected without taking it as an attack on my personhood. If I can apply that mindset to other aspects of my life too, that’s a huge win. Because what is being in your early 20s if not consistently being rejected?
