A Dating Story

This isn't for class or anything. This just happened to me this past week.

 

Say hello to girl on okcupid. Tall. Fit. Wears glasses. Writes complete sentences. Smitten.


We're having coffee three hours later. God bless you internet.

I sweat profusely at coffee. Confused. Don't usually sweat. She calls me out on sweating. This makes me sweat more.

She is calm. Eerily calm. That's the problem. She is not pulling her nervousness weight. I have to carry the load for two.

We talk about things we aren't supposed to talk about on a first date. This calms me down. No more sweat.

We hold hands and we hug at the end of the night. Adorable. Like Tiananmen Square, only if it were a kitten instead of a guy.

That was Sunday. We make plans for Friday. Giddy? Giddy.

Wednesday I email her my story about Danny Slowe. This is because I do not know how to buy flowers for girls I like.

Friday afternoon I google her gmail handle.

Oh fuck.

Date happens anyways. She would later describe it as the single weirdest date she has ever been on, but that she still really wanted to see me again. I sent her this on Sunday morning.

 

C_____,

I wasn't totally honest on Friday night, and I think you deserve to hear the truth. Even if it makes you hate me or think less of me, I'd rather it be that than to carry on a bunch of stumbled upon half-truths. This isn't an easy email for me to write, but it's easier than trying to carry on in some less than honest way.

Here it goes...

I googled c_____ (her gmail handle) on Friday afternoon. I actually don't like that I did that, but I did it... googling you certainly wasn't my intention when I asked for your email address. I didn't think much of it at the time... My blog and a few other things pop up with my gmail handle, and I guess I was hoping it would lead me to something about you.

It led to a twitter account @c_____. That account belongs to a Cole [same last name], and it only has two tweets associated with it, both directed @RuPaul.

Long story short, between that and the insistence on wearing heels and knowing you identify as queer, it dawned on me right before our date that you might identify as transgender or some other non-mainstream gender identity. I don't know if that's necessarily true about you or not, and in a way it doesn't matter whether it is or not... I was kinda thrown for a loop by the idea regardless. As someone who has always identified as straight, I never really considered what I thought about the idea of dating someone outside of the binary gender classifications (I don't know if I'm using these terms properly... I'm trying to be sensitive, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a little ignorant about this stuff).

I don't know if it's insulting or not to hear that you inadvertently triggered me questioning how I want deal with people with non-traditional gender identities in my dating life... If it is insulting, I apologize.

So I was trying to figure this all out on the fly, in real time on our date. Did gender identity matter to me? Am I okay with leading this girl on without knowing if it mattered to me? Is it acceptable to ask about her gender identity? Should I be hurt or insulted if she is gender variant and didn't tell me? Those were the real questions I was trying to figure out.

I feel awful for having that conversation on the pier and not really telling you what was racing around in my mind, but I just couldn't find the words. The stuff I did say about closeness and love and emotions and loneliness... that was all true, and it felt good to share with you. I would say I presented the darkest version of myself that night, but I didn't lie to you about anything. However, every minute was a battle to keep myself from blurting out "I think you might have been a dude or something and I don't know how I feel about that!" On some level, I'm sure I was trying to sabotage things so I wouldn't have to write this email, but I don't know how big of a role that played in determining my actions.

During those ten minutes of silence before we kissed, I was finally able to find enough space to realize I needed to put this philosophical stuff aside and think about C____, and figure out whether I wanted to kiss C____. One person, one moment in time... it's not fair to put her at the epicenter of some internal crisis about what I can and can't handle in terms of dating gender variant people.

I realized that's what I needed to do, but I just couldn't get myself to that place where I could think about C____ specifically. That's why I kept giving you the "I'm sorry" face. I wanted to see you for you and not as some symbol for something bigger, but I couldn't get myself to that place.

Finally I just said fuck it and went for it. I though maybe getting out of my head is what I needed.

When you said "that was intense," I thought "wow, what a perfect description." Kissing you overloaded everything for me and I just shut down. I gave up both thinking and feeling for the night. All I wanted to do was get you home safe and not raise the stakes any higher until I figured out how to be forthright and emotionally honest with you.

So that's what happened, in full disclosure.

I want you to know I think you're an amazing person, and I would love to keep you in my life. If nothing else, it's clear to me we share a spiritual connection.

I tried to put myself in your shoes and figure out what I would want to hear from Doug, and let that dictate the content of this email. Like I said before, I don't know if you're actually gender variant or not, and I'm not sure it matters... I think you deserve to hear everything that was in my head on Friday night, and I think you're the type to want full disclosure.

I would absolutely love to talk more in person if you'd like. If you decide I'm not the type of person you'd like to have in your life, I understand that too. But I'm going to stop typing now and let you lead the way.

Be well,

Doug

 

The date was on Friday. No contact Saturday. I rallied friends to figure out what to do. I sent email Sunday morning.

She sends cryptic text at noon. "The changes that deep intimacy evokes can look very dangerous"

I reply "So do you hate me?"

"That is a juvenile question, Doug"

"Ok, do you want to talk?"

"Yes, how do you feel about talking again?"

"Now that I've got everything off my chest I'd love to talk more"

"Ok great. How about tonight?"

"I have no clue what effect my email had. Are you sure you don't need some time to process?"

"Oh, I didn't see your email. Let me get back to you."

......

"Yeah, you should do that."

 

Phone rings five minutes later. She is laughing. This explains so much of the weirdness.

No I am not trans. Yes I think this is very funny. No I am not insulted. Yes I have already forwarded this to all of my trans friends. Yes they will think this is sweet.

Let's start over? Let's start over.

We meet for dinner. Her hands and feet have shrunk considerably since Friday. We giggle about Friday. She admires that I was so forthright. I admire that she is so unflappable and understanding. We must be awesome.

We talk about things we shouldn't talk about on a second date. Then we go for a walk. Then we talk about things we're supposed to talk about on a second date.

Then we kiss.

She's not feeling it. Where's the intensity from Friday, buddy?

Hard to match the intensity of a uncovering an unfamiliar part of your own identity in real time in the presence of a near-stranger

Sorry :(

She says things you're not supposed to say during the "let's just be friends" thing.

I am eternally grateful for this.

We will be friends.

 

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