The I’m Sorry Text

I don’t consider myself a prude, puritan or frigid ice queen when it comes to intimacy. I am great at intimacy.  I am a deeply intimate person. I dig sweet kisses behind the knees and soft caresses behind the ears. I’m a foot-rubbing, elbow-tickling, butterfly-kissing fool. Sometimes, I curl up and purr like a little kitten.

I’m just not like that on the first date. Or the second.

I love being in love. I love intimacy. I just can’t fake it. Well, I mean, any girl can “fake it,” but I chose not to.

Which is why my touchy-feely date last weekend skirted around the outskirts of my comfort zone.

The date itself is probably something I should have skipped in the first place. In the spirit of “giving love a chance” though, I broke a few of my own online dating rules:

1) I gave out my number before the date so we could talk/make arrangements easier. This resulted in numerous annoying text exchanges for the week prior to the date. I’m not a huge fan of text messaging – and despise the idea of using texts to carry on a conversation. To make things worse, the already limited and stunted communication was further butchered by text-colloquialisms such as “How r u?” and “Hope ur excited” and “U no it” (which, is supposed to translate to “You know it,” I believe). I almost cancelled the date due to these texts. They grind on my nerves. I don’t understand why people find the need (or think it’s acceptable) to communicate in shorthand. Take your own shorthand notes, that’s fine. However, communication is an art – one we can celebrate wonderfully with words! Let us paint the world with words – not bits and pieces of phonetic hash.

2) I let him drive me in his car – this is a huge No-No, I’m a big fan of my kidneys, so I try to make sure I don’t end up in situations where someone will cut them out of me and sell them on the black market. So, even though we met in a well-lit-highly-populated public place – we didn’t stay there. He wanted to take a drive in his car, which I thought was strange, but in my initial judging of character, I decided he was a nerd. I was actually pretty excited about it (everyone knows that nerds don’t break your heart) – I figured he was just kind of an awkward mouth-breathing geek and he might be just what I was seeking. So, in the spirit of being “easy to be around without being easy,” I decided to go along with it. Sure, stranger, I’ll go for a drive in your car with you. dumb dumb dumb – I promise I’m never doing it again, ok? So, please don’t yell at me, I know it was dumb dumb dumb.

So, that’s how I ended up in the prom date seat of a Saturn driving up I-95. Before he had started the ignition, he was holding my hand. He asked me if I liked it. I said, “Not really. I’m just not really that touchy-feely before I get to know someone. I mean, it’s not bad or anything, it’s just not something I particularly like or dislike.” Which is true. On hand-holding, I’m pretty neutral.

A few minutes later, his hand moved to my thigh. *Key raised eyebrow*

Then, to my inner-thigh. That’s when I slammed on the brakes. I said, “Whoa, buddy, don’t get so fresh, ok? It’s our first date.”

He apologized and said he just thought it would be “nice.” Hmph. Nice for whom?

Then, he went back to hand-holding.

As we were talking, I was wondering why we were driving. Why with gas over $4 a gallon does this guy want to go for a drive? Why not grab a drink or an ice cream or go roller skating? I thought maybe he was introverted and didn’t want to sit across from me and feel the pressure to make eye contact. I can make some intense eye contact sometimes.

An hour later, he made his intentions known. He pulled off the interstate at a “scenic overlook.”At this point, I’m sure you are wondering if I was on a date with a 17-year-old. No, I dated 17-year-olds many many years ago and I don’t do it anymore because 1. It’s illegal and 2. This is their idea of a date: driving to a place to make-out.

I’m not in high school anymore. I’m almost 27 now. Before a make-out session, I expect dinner – or at least an expensive cocktail.

He asked to give me a massage and started rubbing my shoulders. He kept asking me if it felt good. He kept asking me if I liked it. I told him I was really more of a “massage on date 3 girl” and started talking about driving back.

He said we could go back, but asked for a hug first.

I obliged.

He took the opportunity of the hug to kiss me on the shoulder. Then, the other shoulder. Then my neck and my cheek. I knew where this was going. I could still taste the essence of the French Onion soup I’d scarfed down for lunch. I debated kissing him or just getting out of the car and asking a friend to come pick me up. I decided to kiss him, knowing that the worst that could happen would be an influx of chemicals into my brain that told me I was in love with this guy. Nope, that didn’t happen. There was no spark. The kiss lasted about a minute before I noticed he was showing all the classic signs of a guy who is 8 minutes out from pouting about “blue balls” and trying to make me feel bad. I wasn’t going to let it get to that point so I said, “OK, WE REALLY NEED TO GO BACK NOW.” In my big girl voice. He said, “I know.” And he looked at me and smiled, like we had just shared something intimate. I rolled my eyes.

Driving back, he started rubbing my arm. He rubbed my arm so much, I was afraid it was going to get raw. I huffed a little bit, but decided arm-rubbing was like hand-holding: harmless, albeit kinda annoying.

By the time we got back to New Haven, the arm rubbing turned into boob-squeezing. I was shocked. And slightly appalled. I took a second to ask myself two questions:

1. Was I enjoying this – no.

2. Was I uncomfortable – yes.

I told him to stop. He apologized and went back to holding my hand. We got back to my car, so I said a quick goodbye and jumped out.

I asked myself a lot of questions after that date, but the one question that haunted me was: Why did I even let this guy touch me at all?

I’m not a mealy-mouthed high school student anymore. I don’t have problems telling people not to touch me. Last year, I thought I’d give this “one-night-stand” thing a try – I walked out halfway through after telling the guy that I just was not having any “fun.” But there was a difference between Mr. Half-a-Night-Stand and Mr. Touchy-Nerdy. The Stand was with a “cool” guy – an Australian. He was really good looking. He was slick. He was a charmer. I had no problem shooting him down and waltzing out of his hotel room. The Touchy Guy was a nerd. I don’t know if he’s ever had a girlfriend. I didn’t want to be mean to him. So, I was worse: I was tolerant. After sucking down glass after glass of tolerance, I realized that resentment was stirring in my stomach.

The next day, I get a text: “How r u”

I debated ignoring it. But, I felt like I owed him an explanation. I thought about calling him to tell him how uncomfortable I had been on our date. But, since he had chosen to only communicate with me through text messages, I didn’t see a point in me being decent enough to make a phone call and engage him in real conversation. I sent a text back telling him that all the touching was way out of my comfort zone and I was not happy with the date.

He waited a day. Then, I get another text: “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make u feel uncomfortable.”

And that’s the end to that story. The final nail in the coffin was the text message apology. If anyone sent me a text telling me that I had made them uncomfortable, I’d immediately call to apologize. A text feels so insincere. If you are really, truly sorry, wouldn’t you want to express your heartfelt sentiments over a medium in which you can at least get a sense for how the other person responds? I found the text message apology rude. If he had called me, I probably would have given him another chance. Love can be fickle sometimes, you know?

However, I could never fool myself into thinking that I could fall in love with someone who shoots me a text to apologize.

I usually don’t “kiss and tell.” However, I wanted to write all this down to remind myself that my rules exist for a reason, so I should stop breaking my own rules and to further explore the reasons why I didn’t ask him to stop touching me.


About ermodi

i like champagne and nachos. i watch people’s mouths move when they talk to me and judge if they are a good kisser i like to write with fine-tip Sharpies because i think it makes me look confident i bite my nails i think doing the dishes is a very lonely chore i think “autumn” is the prettiest word in the English language. i believe in love – or, at least something that resembles love, but i don’t trust this idea of forever.
This entry was posted in Featured and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

9 Responses to The I’m Sorry Text

  1. Lindsay says:

    Best – blogpost – ever.

    R U ok?

    • Ermodi says:

      @ Lindsay – ahhh hahahaha U can stop desensitizing me to shorthand texting (short-thumb? perhaps, instead of shorthand?) I’m not talking to anyone who can’t spell “you’re” ever again.

      @ Chris – you’re so right. Always listening to the little voice from now on!

      @ SJ – Your mother was right on! Thanks so much for the comment, I agree, my brain is the best place to start for stimulation.

      @ Frank – Good fighter or not, I’m glad to have you on my side. Thanks for being the Luigi to my Mario! (even though they were both dudes, so I might need a new metaphor…)

      @ Adam – Next time, I’m bringing you on the date with me. You can bring your bat.

  2. Wow, Maureen!
    If there’s one thing I’ve learned in ALL the years I’ve been here, it’s to ALWAYS ALWAYS listen to that inner voice. If that voice is telling you something doesn’t feel right, 99.99999% of the time it is right. Sorry you went through that.

    I was uncomfortable JUST reading this blog post, can’t imagine how you felt. I’m right w/you on the texting thing. It CAN be an easy way to get a hold of someone but when you’re initiating a first date, at LEAST if it were me, I’d certainly want to ACTUALLY hear the other person.

    It sounds like this guy doesn’t know what boundaries are. Chalk it up to experience, Maureen. Next time you’ll know what you want and what you don’t want.

  3. SJ says:

    My mum always says a guy who takes liberties when he doesn’t know you will take even more when he does. I always say if you want to stimulate me my mind is the best place to start. A little harmless fun never hurt anyone but there’s a difference between wanting it and feeling like it might be ok when you start. I thunk you get it and I’m really glad you stuck to your guns x

  4. Go Frank Go says:

    Wow. Do I have to beat the snot out of an awkward mouth-breathing geek? Because I TOTALLY will.

    (As an awkward nose-breathing nerd, I can say that there’s been bad blood between the awkward mouth-breathing geeks and us for eons. They just make all of us look bad, y’know?)

    (Also, by “beat the snot out of,” I meant in, like, Wii boxing or something. Neither the awkward mouth-breathing geeks nor the awkward nose-breathing nerds are particularly good fighters…)

  5. Adam says:

    Yeeeah. I can see why you mighta felt bad for him in theory, but no. That kid needs a baseball bat upside the head sized clue. Holy crap. That’s horrible that that happened to you and pretty much indefensible on his part.

  6. T says:

    I’d like a big burly man to take this guy on a drive, massage his balls, and sappily ask him “do you like this?”

    Too harsh? It’s what I want.

  7. Ermodi says:

    T – not too harsh. Haha made me laugh anyway!

  8. Pingback: Why I don’t Blog at Work -

Comment Here!!!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s