The Bad Date
I had a lousy date last week. It happens.
We met on a dating app and texted back and forth on that platform for a few days. She came off as smart, funny, clever, and looked oh so cute in her profile pictures. We had a lot in common. And as a bonus, we only live 3 miles apart. It seemed like a lesbian miracle.
So we met for coffee. She was captivating — with sparkling blue eyes and an electric smile. I bumbled like a teenager for the first few minutes. Then we got settled at our table and started to chat.
We talked about our jobs, books (very few of which we had in common), a teeny bit about our kids, and a little about the dating app we’d met on. But we stayed on the surface the entire time. I tried delving into deeper topics once or twice, but she was not interested in that. She seemed very guarded to me. And she didn’t reciprocate my openness — at all.
We sat there for 90+ minutes chatting in this coffee shop. I left the date realizing I didn’t know her at all. I have no idea what she thinks, feels, or believes… about almost anything.
I was discouraged and disappointed. I wasn’t comfortable around her at all. I felt compelled to filter everything I said and didn’t feel like I could be myself.
It was more like an afternoon with my relatives than a lesbian date.
I could just chalk it up to “not a good match”. But I started to really question myself.
When I thought I was straight, I believed I was repulsive to men because there was never any chemistry. So of course, I assumed there was something wrong with me. I rarely dated. And in my fear of becoming an old maid, I married the first man who showed real interest in me. I had been raised with the Christian ideal that I needed to get married and have babies to be worthy. And when I hit my mid-20’s without any prospects, I was scared. So I latched onto the first man who loved me.
I stayed married for over 10 years and then got a divorce and spent another 12 years single — but believing I was straight.
Then I came out. And that — of course — was a revelation. Once I realized I could date and have romantic relationships with women, everything felt different. The idea of dating sounded fun! Suddenly I wasn’t concerned with my body shape or wearing makeup. I ceased to feel like I had to perform or play a role to get someone to like me.
Lesbian dating is (obv) a whole different vibe than dating men. I’ve made some good friends and had some spicy times. But as I’ve dated women over the past year and a half, I’ve started to wonder what I’m actually looking for… and why.
I’ve been single for an embarrassingly long time. Most of it was when I thought I was straight and the idea of dating meant dating a man — and that sounded awful. So I focused on other aspects of my life and got totally used to the idea of being single for the long haul.
But once I deconstructed my religion and realized I could date women, I felt differently. A whole world of possibilities opened to me. I started to imagine a non-single future in a healthy and balanced relationship.
But after that lousy date, I’ve decided I’m ready to take a break from the dating app. I’ve noticed that as I’ve chatted with my last couple of matches, it felt more like an inconvenience than a joy. I don’t know if it’s dating-app-burn-out, or if I’m just not interested in a relationship right now.
But after that bad date, I started to wonder. Am I dating because I’m ready to find a partner? Or am I worried that I’m not valid as a lesbian is I don’t have a girlfriend?
Maybe my desire to date is about feeling like I have something to prove. As I was reflecting on this, a dark thought entered my mid: does it even matter that I’m a lesbian if I’m not in a relationship?
The answer, of course, is yes. Being queer is part of who I am. Dating doesn’t have anything to do with it. I’m a lesbian regardless of my relationship status. But that thought did pop into my head.
My extended family doesn’t accept gay people. So I haven’t even come out to them. And in that moment of self-pity, I thought, “well, what difference does it make if I ever come out to them if I don’t even have a girlfriend?” Why even bother declaring my authenticity?
That line of thinking is misguided. That was me feeling sorry for myself and momentarily believing the lies that popped into my head.
As later-in-life lesbians, we are valid. We’re valid if we’re joyously single, if we’re playing the field, if we’re sexing around, or if we’re in a committed relationship. You’re valid even if you just figured out you’re gay 5 minutes ago and have never even kissed a woman.
Being queer is about more than dating, sex, or romantic relationships. It’s an integral part of our identities. It’s the community we BELONG in. So, next time you have a bad date, or hit a dry spell, or break up with your girlfriend, take heart. You matter.
