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But once I bid adieu to these three guys and set off into the “real” world of dating — which was filled with terms like “seeing each other” and “not looking for anything serious” — I realized very quickly that defining the relationship didn’t always follow my breakneck speed. Being someone prone to extreme behavior, I went in the complete opposite direction.
I tried my hardest to be cool and not worry about defining the relationship.
Getting to know someone you see a potential romantic future with is a marathon, not a sprint.
For me, it’s important to keep my boundaries up until I feel like I’ve gotten to know the person well.
Luckily, I eventually realized that there's no "right" way to date, and that I need to find happiness within myself, no partner needed.
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He told me he was too, but that he’d just gotten out of a relationship, so he wanted to take things “slow.” I agreed, and we started to see each other. Jude and I were spending the night at one another’s places every time we hung out, we texted or G-chatted all day, I was cooking him dinner on certain days of the week when we worked late, and he’d met my friends over fried chicken while I met his over veggie phó. But on the other hand, I was getting to know things about him that I really didn’t like — he was a bit macho, he was stubborn, he seemed hung up on his ex, and he once looked at me square in the eyes and told me that he respected Steve Bannon for his intelligence.
(He hasn’t.)This pace served me well with my three serious boyfriends: one of which was in high school, so it made sense; one who I was friends with for years, so we skipped over the “getting to know you” part; and one who was a lazy, cerebral ass hat who contributed the bare minimum to our relationship, so I made all the decisions.
And at one point, after getting fed up over something he did, I texted my friend Sarah and said “I don’t think I even want to date him anymore.” She texted me back, “Then that’s your answer.”So when he told me through tears one Friday that he’d slept with someone else instead of calling me, I broke it off.
I cried in the cab on the way home, while the driver passed me tissues through the change slot in the plexiglass that separated us. But by mid-afternoon, I realized that I had learned an important lesson in the act of DTR.
And, most damningly, I surge through relationships.
For most of my adult life, I’ve dated at a middle school clip.