Category: Asexual Dating

What I’ve Learned From Dating my Trans Partner

My partner and I recently had our one year anniversary. Please, hold your applause for America’s Favorite Couple. And even though we’ve been together for some time, there’s a lack of blog posts relating to this very queer part of my life. You’d think the blog content would be skyrocketing to new unimaginable levels. Over the course of our time dating I’ve tried to write multiple blog posts on what I’ve learned from dating a trans person, how that’s affected me, yada yada so on and so forth. But for some reason I haven’t been able to ever complete one and hit that publish button. So, today’s the day I’m going to lock in and do it. I think part of the reason I haven’t been able to finish the post is because there’s always a melancholic undertone to the reality of our situation. While my past queer relationship was challenging due to it being my first, and navigating how others perceived us, my situation here is different. I’m beyond worrying about coming out for the first time or being perceived as queer. Now, our difficulties lie in the state of the world and the reality of the transgender experience. Which is to say, it can be extremely difficult. But, it’s not all difficult and horrible. There are many awesome and amazing things about knowing and loving a trans person, and it’s taught me a lot about myself. So much so that I feel a need to write about it and post it on the internet. Let’s get into it!

I’m Customizing my Character

I’ve done a lot of things recently to customize my character (and by that I mean change my appearance). In the past ten months I’ve gotten a shaggy haircut, a lip piercing, bangs, shaved the ends of my eyebrows off, grew out my armpit hair, and bleached my eyebrows. I’ve done a lot of these things thanks to my partner’s encouragement and seeing them express themselves so freely. For example, my partner told me I should get bangs. And while at first I thought this was a rude suggestion and it would make me look incredibly ugly, I did in fact get bangs and it was kind of the best decision ever. Because now I look hot and sexy and gayer. Additionally, my partner grows out their armpit hair, which inspired me to do the same. I thought it looked really hot and cool on them, which made me question why I had never grown mine out. I found it incredibly strange that I had never seen my body with hair that naturally grows because of some made up patriarchal, capitalistic expectation that I as a female should have no body hair. Eek! I was succumbing to patriarchal expectations and infantilizing myself for the male gaze?! Something had to be done. So, I grew out my armpit hair and now I’ve had them grown out for four months and I don’t plan on going back to shaving them anytime soon. Sure, I could have grown out my armpit hair and done all of these things on my own at any time. But witnessing my partner express themselves so freely, and beyond the gender binary, encourages me to do the same. Being with them gives me a safe space to explore my appearance and self expression, and I knew I would have at least one person in my corner hyping me up.

I’m Exploring my Gender

My partner taught me how to bind using trans tape. They showed me how to apply it, gave me tips for removal, and gave me some tape in case I wanted to try again later. It felt really special to do that together, to see an aspect of my partner’s life and to try it with them. It was a really comforting experience. I felt like I was in such a safe space to explore my gender and to try new things. Afterwards we talked about our own experiences with gender, how we feel, signs we were queer as kids. It was so special and so queer.

It felt really nice to be a cis person and bind, something I’ve realized does not get a lot of representation, but is perfectly normal and cool. I’m a person who typically goes braless, and I wear a lot of tank tops and little shirts. Binding my chest made me realize how much I focus on covering up, worrying about if I’m bending over the wrong way, if I need to cover my chest. Having my chest bound for a couple days felt so comfortable. I never worried about my top slipping or who was around when I was getting dressed and shirtless.

Once I took the tape off, it made me realize how much energy I spent focusing on my body, and worrying about how clothes would sexualize it. And I really did not like that! Because there’s nothing inherently sexual about the body. It’s all just made up ideas in order to control people, especially women. And I sure as hell am not going to be a victim to the patriarchy.

So now I’ve been making a conscious effort to simply exist in my body. What does this look like? I’m shirtless more often. I get out of the shower at night and do my night routine without a shirt. That’s maybe five or ten minutes. I tell myself there’s nothing sexual about my body. If a man can bend over and not worry about his shirt showing his chest, I can too.

Dating an asexual trans person has given me space to simply exist. I never worry about being perceived in a sexualized or gendered way, and that makes me feel very free to just be a human being. I’m not doing certain acts or gendered things in our relationship because I’m “supposed to.” I’m just existing and doing what makes me happy.

My Sexuality is More Fluid Than I Thought

When I started dating my partner I identified as a lesbian, but that label quickly went out the window. Using the term lesbiam to describe myself was something I did casually, and while it felt okay, it was never perfect. Then, I started dating my partner, who is not a girl and not a lesbian, and I realized that label was too restrictive. I think I just like people who are queer. I don’t want to date a cishet man, but my partner is much more boy than they are girl, and I like them very much. I’m just attracted to queerness and hot people, and that typically manifests as women and gender non-conforming people. If in a hypothetical world my partner fully transitions to a boy, I wouldn’t have an issue with it.

Additionally, I’ve been able to explore what my asexuality means as a 22 year old in a serious relationship. I think for a long time I have been unintentionally boxing myself in. I’ve been realizing that by using the ace label, I haven’t really considered how I would feel in sexual experiences that aren’t sex or won’t lead to sex. There was a long period of identifying as asexual where I felt that I didn’t want to do anything that fell under the category of sexual. But the thing is, when you don’t experience sexual attraction, what makes something sexual? Things that might be sexual to someone else might just feel romantic to me. And even if I am interested in more “sexual” acts, that’s okay. I’ve been learning that the basic definition of asexuality fits me: experiencing little to no sexual attraction. Just because I don’t experience sexual attraction doesn’t mean I can’t participate in “sexual” activities. To put it in an analogy, you can eat when you’re not hungry.

Aesthetic attraction is so real. Sensual attraction is so real. I never expected to feel this kind of desire I do with my partner. I haven’t given myself enough space to understand how I experience desire, but now I am exploring that. Things I didn’t think I would be comfortable with, or want to do, are actually things I find fun and I want to do. It feels so special and important to me to be able to learn about my sexuality in a safe, loving environment.

My partner and I have had conversations about what we’d be comfortable with if we had sex. Up until recently, I was fully planning on never having sex. Staying a “virgin” for life. And while this has all been mere conversation, it’s fascinating to understand this part about myself. For the sake of experimentation, of closeness with my partner, maybe even “fitting in,” there’s a part of me that’s curious and open to it, and I never thought that was possible.

I Have to be Really Fucking Emotionally Vulnerable

Luckily for me, I’m the most emotionally mature person on earth. Trust that my therapist is proud of me. The reality of me and my partner’s situation is that their trans identity affects their mental health. Their parents don’t support them, they’re not out at work, and they desire HRT, which they’re not currently on. They’re living a double life as the person I know them as, and someone who is a stranger to me. That takes a toll on a person! Additionally, we’re long distance. It can feel challenging to not be able to comfort each other with a hug or other physical reassurance when we’re far away. This also means that vulnerable conversations are almost always through a screen.

I feel really proud of the communication my partner and I have. We allow each other to sit in silence, to share, to cry, to pause conversations and come back. Recently I noticed that I was initiating physical intimacy more than my partner was, and I asked them if that was something they noticed as well. And honestly, I was really nervous to ask this. Part of me was thinking about worst case scenarios. But it turns out, their lack of initiation had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with the dysphoria they feel. This is a new conversation for both of us. I’ve never experienced wanting physical intimacy, and both of us are trying to find the language to express our feelings and what makes us both the most comfortable.

I have a hard time saying my feelings out loud. That’s why I write a lot. Because these conversations happen over FaceTime, I like to make a point to schedule when we’re going to talk about more emotionally heavy things. This then forces me to know when conversation is coming, and give me time to gather my feelings and prepare to share them. It’s a lot easier to gauge someone’s body language and mood in person, and we have very different needs when it comes to expressing emotions. I get anxious over not talking and want to clear things up right away, but my partner has a very difficult time being emotionally vulnerable. This means that we plan a time to talk so I don’t anxious-spiral, and spend a lot of time sitting in silence as they work through their feelings.

After my partner and I talk, one of us says “Thank you for sharing,” and the other responds “Thank you for listening” (which I think would be the outro to our hypothetical couples podcast).

So tl;dr, it’s really slay and awesome to date a trans person. Trans people are hot and awesome and empathetic and cool and fashionable and teach us about dismantling oppressive systems by just existing. And personally, I’m very grateful to date a trans person and I love that my partner is trans. And, if you have someone in your life who is trans, or you’re dating a trans person, you should tell them you love their transness.

Alright. I’ll talk to y’all in the next post. Thanks for reading!

Rejecting Labels, Dismantling Desire, Poetry Publications, & Other Life Updates

It has been many, many moons since my last blog post. And that’s not to say I haven’t had one sitting in Google Docs 80% done for the past four months. Because I certainly have. I just haven’t brought myself to finish it for whatever reason. I, of course, have still been writing lots. More than ever actually. It’s my senior year of undergrad so not only have I been writing for classes, I’ve been applying to grad schools and writing my thesis: a poetry collection on asexuality, queerness, desire, and taboo amongst other things.

Maybe I’ll have to do a rundown of the best books and poetry collections I’ve read. But that of course is for Future Jadey to decide.

Last year at this time I was unpacking comphet and deep in the journey of my Lesbian Renaissance, coming to terms with lesbianism and the fact that I wasn’t attracted to men. And shocker, here’s an update on that – I’m not a lesbian. Listen. Did I spend months thinking about that label, adopting it, and working through comphet? Yes, obviously. Was all of that completely necessary? Yes. But as I kinda figured I would do, I decided labels aren’t for me, and un-labeling my romantic orientation and using queer as a broad term makes me feel the most comfortable and seen in my identity.

Do I resonate with aspects of lesbianism and the lesbian community? Yes. I’m still going to use the label lesbian for convenience, but in my little gay heart, I’m not one. The label lesbian feels too limiting. I have the capacity to like a wide range of people, just not cishet men.

Part of this discovery was through dating my genderqueer partner, and being with them – dismantling gender norms and existing as just a person – has allowed me to feel perfectly at ease with not being boxed in. The same thing has resulted for my gender, where I may use she/her pronouns and be perceived as femme, on the inside I’m just a person existing who doesn’t need labels to define or box in the many experiences and nuances I feel around my identity.

Being with my partner has also allowed me to reevaluate desire and my asexuality. Even as well-versed in ace knowledge as I am, I realized I was boxing myself into a preconceived notion of asexuality. By this I mean that I had it in my head what I was and was not comfortable with. How I wanted to show intimacy, what desiring someone meant. As I got older I wanted to explore that more, but a lot of it seemed like a hypothetical.

Now, I find that I am stripping my understanding of my asexuality down to the very basic definition. Asexuality means experiencing little to no sexual attraction. While before that was closely tied to how I understood what I did not want, I am now reversing that idea, and understanding my asexuality through what I do want. To me, this means exploring physical intimacy in a way that feels right to me. Maybe what most would perceive as a sexual act actually feels romantic to me. Maybe I feel most connected with my partner through conversations surrounding our queerness – a part of that being how we physically interact with each other. Additionally, I’m accepting the fact that I could desire things that are seen as sexual. I can want physical intimacy and closeness even when I don’t experience sexual attraction. To put that idea to an analogy – I can still eat even when I’m not hungry. I’m also learning how huge a role aesthetic attraction plays in my desire.

There are things I never thought I would be comfortable with that I now do and enjoy. And it feels so freeing and exciting to learn these things about myself. For example, if you’re an avid reader of the blog you may recall that for a long time I’ve been opposed to kissing on the mouth. There was something about it that just wasn’t for me. It made me uncomfortable, I didn’t see the appeal, and frankly, it seemed gross. And I often complained about this, because I so badly wanted to be an asexual who kissed. For many reasons. Because it was a “normal” thing to do. Because it seemed fun. Because it seemed romantic. Anywho. I never thought I’d actively want to kiss someone. And you know what, now I’m dating someone who likes to be kissed. And guess what, now I like it. Now, I don’t get “sparks” or “butterflies” like I do when I’m kissed on the cheek or somewhere else. I’m not begging to be kissed on the mouth. But I know my partner likes it, and it makes them happy, and that alone makes me enjoy it and want to do it.

A lot of factors went into this new kind of thinking. The first obviously being the relationship I have with my partner, the safety and comfort I feel with them, and the desire to explore and experiment with someone I love. Simply getting older, wanting to try new things. Conversations with my friends revolve around sex and relationships and I’ve always taken such an interest in intimacy and desire I wanted to further explore it within myself.

While this may sound like I’m exploring what could be deemed “sexual” I am not at all saying I’m not asexual. In fact, this makes me more confident in my asexuality, and excited to explore it further. While before I searched for other aces talking about their experiences as sex-repulsed or sex-averse, I’m now interested in sex-neutral to sex-favorable ace experiences to understand different perspectives and see how they resonate with my own identity.

A few baby updates not long enough for their own post:

I listened to this podcast called Velvet, a fictional narrative about a woman coming to terms with her newfound asexuality and understanding “what it means to experience pleasure beyond sex.” She discusses desire with her allo friends, attends an ace group, and even goes to a Shibari class, which was my favorite episode and by far the most interesting. I wasn’t blown away by the writing, but it was so relatable, and covered so many pieces of the ace experience. This was awesome to listen to as an ace person, and I think would be really informative for allo people wanting to understand asexuality more.

Click here to read a poem I got published: I Wish I was a Riot Grrrl Magpie Zine

This was my first publication outside of my university, and a poem I’m really proud of! My bio is on page 61, and my poem on page 62.

Anywho. It feels good to be back on the ol’ blog. It’s also been really nice understanding more about my queerness and exploring who I am and my relationship to love and romance. See y’all later.

Dismantling Heteronormative Ideas and Timelines in Queer Relationships

Seven and a half weeks into knowing my partner I texted my friends and asked them if they would disown me if I told my partner I loved them. “Jadey. You’re telling us you are so down bad for your partner that you couldn’t even wait two months to say ‘I love you?’” Well, um…yes. Thankfully my friends said they wouldn’t disown me and if this was something I wanted to do and say first then I should do it.

Now, listen. I like to think I’m a pretty rational person. I am not one to Google questions that will lead me down a rabbit hole. I’m not going to Google my symptoms and convince myself I have cancer. I’m not going to ask Google if I should quit my job or move across the country. However, clearly I was desperate because about two weeks prior to this text conversation I was Googling “when should you say I love you” because the fact that I was feeling this way towards my partner had me feeling completely irrational and insane. However, Google honestly didn’t have terrible advice. Google said to wait at least two months and to probably meet the parents and to not feel pressured to say it. And honestly that’s pretty logical advice. However, I of course completely ignored it.

I am the kind of person to trust my instincts. I trust my gut feeling and I feel confident in myself to make smart decisions. However, this situation made me feel insane. Everything about our relationship has been moving at the speed of light. My partner met almost all my friends on our second date. Three weeks in they met my parents. Less than two months in I said “I love you.” To say we were moving fast was an understatement. But then again, fast to who?

I had been basing these milestones off of preconceived societal norms for dating. And who makes these “rules?” Straight people. So that got me thinking. This whole system and rules around dating and love is based on heteronormative expectations and ideals. And I even told my friends in my flustered text chain “why worry about traditional relationship timelines” in order to convince myself I wasn’t crazy. So today we’re going to dive into these traditional relationship ideas and talk about how I’m dismantling them and re-learning in order to have the loveliest, most fulfilling life possible.

Chrononormative Timeline

Chrononormativity is the expectation that everyone follows the same timeline for life events. This suggests there’s a “right” time to get married, have kids, etc. But it can also be small events like how many dates you’re going on, labeling the relationship, planning future events, etc. This can create feelings of anxiety and stress from external and internal pressure. This kind of mindset can be toxic for all people, not just gay people. In fact, there is probably more pressure on straight couples to abide by this timeline because queer couples are already defying the status quo. They have more leeway to not abide by these rules because they’re already seen as doing the “wrong” thing (in the eyes of a patriarchal society).

That’s to say that I’ve been working on not allowing heternormative and societal norms to slide into my relationship and make me feel pressured to do certain things at certain times. And in fact, even though I have not been dating my partner for very long, and the speed at which we’re moving is a lot to grasp at once, I feel perfectly secure and at ease with it. “Jadey, why is that?” you might be wondering. That’s because my partner and I are on the same page. When I asked them to be my partner after three weeks, and when I said “I love you” seven weeks in, I felt with full confidence that I would be met with enthusiasm and reciprocated feelings. This timeline works for us, so it doesn’t matter if it’s “too fast” or if we’re doing the whole dating thing “wrong.” The basis of our relationship is already so queer based on our sexualities and genders that it feels ever queerer and right to go against these timelines and create our own rules.

And honestly, following a certain timeline has no logical sense. Why wait a certain amount of time to make things official or meet the parents? If it’s something important for you to do early on, or if it’s important for you to wait a long time, do it. Following these expectations and hitting these “milestones” really only benefits capitalist ideals. Of course the patriarchy and capitalism want you to get married and have kids to produce more workers and nuclear families because it benefits the system!

Gendered Behaviors and Expectations

I’m less reflecting on this topic and more including it for a conversation piece because me and my homies hate gender roles and gendered expectations. You will never catch me bending to oppressive patriarchal gender roles.

One thing I will never understand are same sex (or queer) couples falling into gendered roles based on who is more “masculine” or “feminine.” If I was basing my relationship of gendered expectations, then I would be sitting pretty as the fem(me) partner twiddling my thumbs. You best believe on our first date I asked for a second date, paid for dinner, and drove! Of course I buy my partner’s meals and bring them flowers and say “I love you” first! I know what I want and I’m going to get it! You will not catch me sitting around waiting for things to happen. If I want something I’m going to ask for it. Plus, breaking gender roles is hot.

That’s not to say that embracing gendered roles is always bad. As long as it’s a choice that makes all members of the party happy, then go for it. Having a traditional gendered relationship could be really affirming for a T4T couple. Plus, some people just like their traditional gender roles! As long as it’s not falling into scary tradwife Republican submission where boxing people in is used to control them, do whatever gendered things you want!

Creating New Rules

The fabulous thing about being queer is that you’re already going against the “norm” so there’s freedom to continue to defy expectations. And anyone who thinks otherwise is just trying to uphold heternormative ideals. It’s giving gay Republicans. Gross.

When I asked my partner to be my partner I figured we could just make that day our anniversary because I assumed that’s just what people did. But then I realized I didn’t like it. What about all the time we spent before, did that just not count as time we’ve been dating? Plus, the day just didn’t sit right with me. It was in May and a Thursday and it just didn’t feel right so I asked my partner if we could just make our first date our anniversary and they loved that idea. And I know plenty of people make their first date their anniversary but that’s all to say I was originally trying to do what I thought was typical and guess what, I didn’t feel like it fit me and my relationship, so we changed it. And it made me a lot happier.

I see the “rules” and conventions around romantic relationships as something that’s merely a suggestion. The system that has set up these expectations isn’t built for queer people, so why should we follow it? Anyways. Was this blog post mostly an excuse to talk about my partner? Maybe. But did it allow me to reflect on queer relationships and the heteronormative institutions that try to regulate them? Yes.

I Found a Dating App Just for Asexuals

Today’s blog post is going to be a short one, mostly an update of sorts, about a dating app I have recently found thanks to everyone’s favorite educational platform, TikTok.

Now, quite a while ago I tried some dating apps that were deemed “asexual friendly” and we learned that those words really didn’t mean anything. I’ve honestly had the best luck on the dating app Hinge, but it still rots my brain and I have it deleted from my phone hopefully to never return.

The main point of me testing out all those other dating apps was one, for content, and two, to see if their claims were right. When I found these claims were kinda wrong, and hardly found other aces, and didn’t have much success in the match department in general, I said I needed a dating app just for asexuals.

Well it turns out that there is such a thing!

There’s a dating app called “ACEapp The Social Network” which is a social network platform solely dedicated for people on the asexual spectrum.

So, of course, for science (and the possibility of finding my future wife) I downloaded it.

First of all, you can tell this app was made for aces because the logo is a slice of cake the colors of the asexual flag. Plus, it’s an app that gives you the option for romantic or platonic relationships, which is very ace coded.

The process went a little like this. I downloaded the app. I made an account. I uploaded a picture, gave my age, and filled out a few get-to-know-you questions that said I was looking for a romantic relationship, didn’t smoke, was an introvert, etc. The most exciting part of this app were the sexuality options which all involved romantic orientation labels such as grayromantic, panromantic, demiromantic, confused, lithoromantic, and many more. There weren’t even options to choose something like lesbian or gay, because it was assumed you were ace! I chose homoromantic which I’ve never seen as an option on any other dating app.

There are a few issues. First of all, this app, according to the app store, is over 17 years old. So the user friendliness of it isn’t the best. It’s definitely doable, but it’s not as convenient and user friendly as other dating apps. You can only choose one picture for your profile, and there aren’t prompts to fill out. You can only fill out a short bio about yourself which was daunting. What info should I choose to say about myself to meet the love of my life?!

Unfortunately for me, when I narrowed my results down to people in my age range looking for a romantic relationship 100 miles or less from me, absolutely no one showed up…

Considering the ace population is small, and I, a chronically online asexual, only found out about this app last week, means that the issue is that aces simply don’t know about this app, making the friend, and certainly the romance pool, incredibly small.

This app does seem better for getting to know other ace people as friends. There was a cool feature where you could see ace people all around the world, which is a nice comfort.

Overall it was a fun time but I deleted it after about twenty minutes. There’s just something about scrolling over people’s pictures and judging them as suitors that makes my brain hurt.

Anyway. This was an exciting discovery. Hopefully someone rich will buy this app and revamp it so it’s even better and cooler, and every ace person will download it and I’ll meet the love of my life.

Finding Queer Validation Through Online Dating

A wild event has occurred in the world of this average asexual. Something crazy, something wild…something one could even call…unexpected.

I went on a date.

And I know what you’re thinking. “Jadey, you’re so hot and cool and smart of course you went on a date.” And yes, it seems like I should have suitors throwing rocks at my window and banging down my front door for a chance to get to know me and have the possibility to interact with all of this wit and charisma. But alas, I’ve been in a bit of a dry spell.

For a while I’ve been on the dating app we’ve all come to know and love called Hinge. And let me tell you, I was in the trenches. Everyone was ugly. The people who rarely (and I mean rarely) liked me were not my type. And when I finally did come across someone I liked, they never matched with me, or their conversation was dry to the bone.

Honestly, I was starting to get offended. I am incredibly cool. I have many interests and hobbies. I look hot on my profile and I only mentioned my love of Conan Gray an appropriate one time.

But it turns out I matched with someone I was actually interested in. Someone who seemed cool and funny – so we started messaging on the app. And then they asked for my number. And we started texting. And one thing led to another and I asked them on a date, and then we went on aforementioned date.

Now. All I really wanted out of this was something to add to the plot. To get to know someone. If something came about, awesome, but I wasn’t necessarily going into this date hoping to find the love of my life (besides I already found him, and we all know it’s Conan Gray).

And I simply liked the idea that I met this person, happenstance, because we were on the same app at the same time, and liked each other enough to meet in person. Even for a split second in time, the universe crossed our paths. We went from strangers to acquaintances, and I think that’s pretty cool.

My Hinge date and I did what every lesbian does on a date; we went on a picnic. But that was only after we met at a record store and picked up food to sit in the sun at a local park.

I had never been on a Hinge date, and I had never been on a date with a stranger. And when I told my Hinge date that, they said, “Yeah I could kinda tell.” To which I simply responded “Oh, I guess I’ll leave.”

And the date was kinda exactly what you would expect. We simply got to know each other. My goal for the evening was to make my date laugh, and I can confidently say I succeeded in that. In fact, that was what we did all evening, was simply laugh.

The most unexpected part of this date was how validating of an experience it was. There I was, on a homosexual date, and the expectation was to be queer. We had similar experiences in discovering our queerness, we both couldn’t see ourselves in fulfilling relationships with men, we both were active in our local queer communities. We talked about how our first dates were with men, how we realized we were queer at the same age.

I have a lot of queer friends, though my closest queer friends all experience attraction to men. There are aspects of our queerness that are strikingly similar, and there are aspects that are different. To be able to speak to a stranger, and to relate to them on such an intense level was honestly awesome. I felt so comfortable. We were in a public space, we were two visibly queer people, discussing queer topics, and I felt safe.

It was shockingly validating to speak to this person about my queerness. And when I mentioned my asexuality, they didn’t bat an eye. There were no awkward ace questions. No “What does that mean?” it was simply another fact about me, and a piece of my queer experience, and I couldn’t have asked for a better reaction.

Now. Let’s get to the juicy part. The question you’ll all probably wondering. Did we go on a second date?

Sorry to disappoint, but no. And honestly, I’m incredibly happy with that. We went on a date, we laughed a lot, and we never need to see each other ever again. I felt like we would be friends as opposed to interested in each other romantically, and from what I can tell, we’re on the same page about that.

So all in all, I would rate my first Hinge date a solid 8 out of 10. I looked hot. I was funny. I wasn’t kidnapped or worse, put in a painfully awkward conversation.

Shout out to the person I went on a date with. There’s a good chance you’ll never see this, but in case you do, now you can say someone wrote a blog post about the time they went on a date with you, so you’re welcome for that.