When's the last time you went on a date?

Shastania · Posted: Sun Aug 31, 2008 7:27 pm Post subject:

My last date was 2 and a half years ago, when I was barely eighteen, undiagnosed and wandering around in a haze of total confusion about my sexuality and about being an Aspie.
I met the guy (who I will refer to as The Jerkoff, largely because if you omit one F, that was his surname)on the top deck of a bus one evening after work and I clearly remember telling him in a candid way that he shouldn't eat McDonalds (he was munching a burger) as the hygine standards were lax.
We got talking (though awkwardly on my part) and through some MIRACLE, I got his number.

Now, at the time this happened, I was in Art College and had struck up a friendship with a fellow student named Ant.
He was a fellow nerd and we had more in common but as he lived many miles away and worked a very demaning job, the only way we could communicate was via text-messaging on the phone.
This turned into about six months of text flirting leading into explicity steamy text sex but whenever I suggested we go ona REAL date, he'd use work as an excuse and blow me off.

The one real date we had, we went to a pub in town and had a quiet drink. Afterwards, he walked me to the bus shelter and he asked if he could "meet me".
Well, at the time I didn't know what he meant. I assumed he meant for us to become a proper girlfriend/boyfriend couple but apparently, I was wrong.

To "meet" someone, in Dublin slang is to engage in French tongue kissing with gratituous boob groping.

I was completly unprepared for it as before all this, I'd never even held hands with a boy so for me to be sitting at a bus stop with a guy shoving his tongue down my throat, his glasses smushing into my face and his hand up my top, it was a terrifying experiance.
The only thing I could do was smack his hand away and pull back. I laughed it off saying I didn't want to rush things and he apologized but in hindsight, I think I put him off because I wasn't offering it up on a plate.

After that one date, we went back to text-sex but he grew distent and unresponsive.
As a result of low self esteem and other issues to due with abandonment, I freaked out and became clingy which culminated in him asking me out on a date only to to have him pull a raincheck SECONDS before I arrived at the meeting point.

We fell out after that.

Naturally, I was crestfallen so I phoned up The Jerkoff and asked him out for a date.
I was running on hormones and angry, which may explain the lack of awkwardness.

Anyhoo, after a quick pint in our local, we ended up in a nearby field where we made out under the stars and he felt me up. This went on for about a week until, teenage hormones combined with a morbid desperation to "pop the cherry" before I was twenty going into overdrive, I wound up losing my virginity to him in the very same field, abiet very briefly.

It was awkward, painful and he was completly insensitive to the fact that I was a virgin. He kept urging me to be "the top" and contort myself into fiddly positions while he gave no consideration to my own pleasure.

I stayed with him for about anoher six weeks on and off out of loneliness, during which we had reletively mediocre sex a further four times which resulted in a terrifying pregnacy scare.

Thankfully, it was a false alarm but it gave me a rude awakening. He'd become condescending and patronising and scoffed at my claims that I couldn't help being socially awkward and introverted. He made me feel so cheap and dirty and after I saw how nasty he got when he thought I'd "trapped him with a baby", I just couldn't cope with him anymore.

He dumped me shortly afterwards and hooked up with an old aquintance of mine from high school.
Amazingly, they're still together though how she puts up with him is beyond me.

After that episode, I suffered a horrifying depressive episode combined with a broken heart (as well as several other very important but unrelated stressful factors) whih culminated in an overnight stay in a psychward and a trip to an evangelical condescending theraphist.

Two years on, I'm still seething at the thought of the little b*****d but it's not because he broke my heart.
It's because I never got a chance to tell him how muh I venomanthly hate him for putting me through that level of stress.

If I never saw him again in my entire life, it would be too soon.

Subsequently, because I'm so terrified that this episode will repeat itself, I'd sworn off dating for as long as I could stand.

Nowadays, I feel strong enough to handle rejection but the same time, I worry that I might come across as aloof and cold because the fear of being hurt again prevents me from being open and trusting.
I'm getting better each day, little by little but the fear hasn't fully left me yet.

One thing's for certain, though.

If I ever saw The Jerkoff in the street, I would not hesitate for a second to kicking his head in.