He then asked me to stop seeing anyone else and be exclusive with him.Dating, for me and many of my peers, is a process (good, bad, and ugly) where you mix/mingle/more with various individuals until you come across one that you wish to divert most or all of your energy towards and enter into an exclusive relationship with.I was excited to get to know him more and see just how well our chemistry could hold up and evolve, but at a reasonable pace, not in a way that felt forced.
I told him I wanted to get to know him more and spend more time with him, but I didn’t feel comfortable making any promises to him at that point.I said this repeatedly in a wide assortment of language as he continued to fight me on my stance. I kept trying to meet him where he was at, trying to be kind but getting more firm as his pitch heightened and his tone darkened, and as he continued to balk at my ideas of dating.I thought this was a great sign - our paths now closer to potentially merging.That night I slept on my parents’ couch in a dark and quiet house filled with my mother, stepfather, brother, sister-in-law, niece, and newborn nephew snoozing peacefully just thin walls away.Weitere Informationen zu unseren Cookies und dazu, wie du die Kontrolle darüber behältst, findest du hier: Cookie-Richtlinie.
It began as a fun flitting in my chest, smile and daydream-inducing, goofily saccharine the way most beginnings of good things are. A combination of polite questions, witty banter, and explicit flirtation (enhanced with images) kept us both delightfully entertained and engaged.
I ignored the remark and instead responded with a filler question, trying gently to redirect the conversation.
This became a pattern over the next week during our physical separation. Considering our short history together, my uneasiness was amplified with each “I miss you,” but I continued to bypass his declarations in attempt to continue at the pace that I felt comfortable with.
His remarks varied from “Why do you need to be with other guys? ” to “I don’t sleep around,” and a whole repetitive slew of the like.
He would waver between machine-gun paced question after question (without room for any response), drawn-out textalogues on the subject, and then even threatening to cease talking to me completely. In retrospect it’s clear to me that, first off, his assumptions about me being promiscuous are not valid to make in response to what I told him of my dating style, and regardless, my promiscuity - assumed or not - is not reserved for his or anyone else’s judgment.
It turned out wonderfully, exceeding my expectations. We shared a very fun make out session - all hands and tongue - on a picturesque New York City street. We didn’t sleep together, but we were intimate, and we both enjoyed it.