Romance and the Late Bloomer
my experience with dating for the first time in my mid-20s and the lessons I've learned.
Nearly every teen film or television show I grew up obsessing over presented this idea that you’ll have your first kiss, romantic partner, sexual experience, and heartbreak by the time you’re 18. If not, then either something is wrong with you or you’ll have better luck in college.
What about the people who are now in their twenties with hardly any experience who feel so far behind the rest of our generation? Did we luck out by skipping the intense, cringe teenage phase of dating, or is it still waiting for us around the corner, preparing to strike with a soul-crushing humility?
By the time I was 18, I had experienced a handful of crushes and two relationships that barely lasted a few weeks. Throughout my early twenties, I turned down the few prospects I did have due to a lack of interest but, more importantly, fear. I craved romance but was too afraid to seek it. I preferred to play it safe and get my romantic fixes from fiction.
The later into my twenties I got, the more I had these juxtaposing feelings of anxiety and confidence when it came to dating. I thought that the longer I waited, the better it would be because, by your mid-twenties, you know yourself well enough to know what you like and you know what red and green flags to look for. Compared to their teenage selves, people in their twenties are generally more confident and mature, so I thought I could avoid the headache of it all by waiting.
However, the longer I waited, the more afraid I became. People my age had already had their first serious relationship, multiple flings, or were at least experienced enough with casual dating and sex that they weren’t totally freaked out by the whole idea. The thought of trying to put myself out there with social anxiety and no real experience made me want to vomit. But in the summer of 2022, at the age of 25, I downloaded Hinge on a whim with the goal of just getting some practice talking to people and seeing where it goes.
My problem is that I tend to think in extremes. If I start talking to someone, I worry about feeling obliged to meet up, where things are headed, rejection, how to break it to them if I’m not interested, etc. Basically, I imagine a thousand different ways the situation could go before I even send the first text. I am also very picky, so if I do decide to follow through and text someone or date them, I have to really be interested.
After a week of swiping through guys who have liked or commented on my Hinge profile, I got brave enough to reply to two guys who had left comments. Talking to two people at once already had me overwhelmed and I had barely said anything to them yet. I showed my best friend the profiles of the two guys and decided which one I would pursue over the other.
I was immediately attracted to the guy I chose. He had a good mix of photos and his prompt answers were funny but also showed enough of his personality to make me intrigued. I do remember half-jokingly telling my friend that he looked like he had the potential to be a fuckboy, but I decided to move forward anyway because our conversation was flowing pretty nicely and, admittedly, he was very attractive. We had been talking for about a day when he said, “I hope I’m not being too forward, but you’re cute and seem pretty cool. Wanna grab a drink?”
I knew immediately I was not ready for that and told him so. I even admitted to him that I was shy and had social anxiety. But I told him I thought he was cute and would take his number if he wanted to give it to me. He did and I was brave enough to initiate something, having no idea where it would go. Over the next week, we talked about practically everything. Our work, our families, our interests and hobbies, politics, religion/religious trauma, and places we’ve traveled. There were some good jokes, some flirting, and the eventual exchange of Instagram profiles. I was riddled with anxiety the entire time, part of which was due to butterflies, an awful feeling I do not recommend. I could hardly eat. The longer we talked, the higher the pressure to either go on an actual date or accept the failed talking stage. But I was surprised by how open I was with him and by the end of the week, I knew I had to be brave and ask him out, so I did. We met up at a cafe the next evening and it changed everything for me.
Our date was like our texts come to life but even better. I mean, I got to have great conversation and laughter with an attractive boy right in front of me who seemed like he was having just as much fun as I was! I was nervous as hell but for the most part, I was able to enjoy being in his presence so much so that my nerves were kept at bay. I was so pleased that the whole thing seemed to be going very well, and for my first ever real date, too! We stayed until closing and then walked around the area the cafe was in.
He walked me to my car and asked if he could kiss me. I said yes, he held my face in his hands, pulled me close, and gave me the first real kiss I’d ever had in my life. Nothing I had as a teenager compared to this! I pulled away, laughing, and said, “I’m not a very good kisser.”
That became a bit of a pattern over the course of our time together. We would kiss and I’d start giggling just thinking of the excitement and absurdity of it all, or I’d get in my head worrying about if I’m doing a good job or not. He asked me if I wanted to walk him to his car (a very smooth move on his part) and I did. I got in his car with him, knowing full well what that usually entails. The kissing in his car was a bit more intense and his hands were roaming, but I was surprisingly comfortable with it despite my shyness and hesitation to reciprocate. But at this point, I wanted to make something clear, so after another pause and him asking me what was on my mind, I asked, “How experienced are you?”
AKA, have you had sex before? In retrospect, probably a juvenile way to phrase the question. He answered me and in return, I told him I haven’t.
“Is that something you’re looking to change tonight?” he asked.
I laughed and said no. He walked me back to my car again and we could not let go of each other. It wasn’t just the kissing; it was the hand-holding, the prolonged gazes, and the hugs that lasted forever, enveloping me in his scent and the feel of his body against mine, as close as we could be. He asked me when he could see me again and we set up another date right there. Then he kissed me one last time and said, “Okay, go, or else I won’t be able to stop.”
I was reeling. I called my friends and we screamed at each other about how amazing this night was.
“Y’all, the date went so well and he’s so great, this is the type of shit that would make me believe in god!”
He had mentioned places he’d like to take me to and movies he’d like to show me. We had so much in common and I felt like I could tell him almost anything. My life at this exact moment felt like the movies I had grown up watching. I took a big leap and it seemed like everything had worked out on my very first try. I felt such a connection between us and our chemistry was sky-high. By the end of that night, I was done for. I had the biggest crush I’ve ever had in my life.
Between our first and second dates, we texted every day, keeping up a steady conversation, along with some flirting, photos, and suggestive comments, usually initiated by him. There were at least two instances where he’d tell me he couldn’t believe I’d never had sex before. He never pressured me or anything. I thought he was obviously a more physical person than me and had done this before, so he was more comfortable starting that aspect of our situation. But I was a little nervous that he was expecting something I wasn’t yet ready to give. I wondered if jumping into the sexual stuff was just how all relationships started.
There was one point where I mentioned my love for Kurtis Conner and that he was doing a show in our city.
Should we go? he texted.
I wasn’t sure if he knew that the show wasn’t until September and we were still in the middle of June. An uneasy feeling crept into my stomach; I was excited at the prospect of him asking this question–it seemed to communicate his intent to pursue something with me–but I was also nervous because, as much as I liked him, making plans like that felt too fast. I told him jokingly that my friend and I were already going (which was true) but he could come as long as he knew he would be a third wheel. It never came up again.
Our second date was at the park and it was more of the same. Good conversation, lots of physical touch, and lots of laughter. We played Uno and showed each other TikToks. It was exactly the kind of low-pressure situation I liked. If you aren’t comfortable doing nothing with someone then what future do you have? I was so attracted to everything about him that I could hardly focus. Even though it was only the second date, things were going so well that I couldn’t help imagining more.
Then he told me, “I’m not looking for anything serious.”
That confused me because his dating profile said he was looking for a long-term relationship. Something on my face must have given me away because he immediately followed up with, “We can take it slow.”
I thought, Great! I’m new to this and have anxiety, taking it slow is my whole thing!
I just nodded my head and we didn’t talk about it any further.
Later, we were once again in his car but this time we had moved to the backseat and things got progressively more physical. I didn’t do anything I wasn’t comfortable with but he was always the one who took the lead and it was clear where his mind was. I let him know that I wasn’t ready for anything below the belt and didn’t know when I would be. He said that was okay.
We were talking later and the topic of sex came up. He asked me my thoughts on it and I told him my fear of intimacy because I have no experience, the actual physical aspect of it freaks me out, and it’s such a vulnerable act that it’s a big deal for me. He asked me if I wanted to hear what he usually does and I of course said yes. And then came this part of the conversation:
“What are your resolutions for this year?” he asked.
“It’s June,” I replied flatly.
“Yeah, but it’s a year-round thing, tell me.”
I told him one of my resolutions was to start dating and look how that’s working out so far.
“Mine is to teach you how to have a great sex life this summer,” he said.
“Okay,” I said, laughing.
“I want you to learn to enjoy sex, whether it’s with me or someone else.”
Writing this out now feels so embarrassing on my part. How did I not see it?! I think part of me did but I locked it away because I was so infatuated with him and wanted things to continue working out between us.
Our second date ended just like our first; we couldn’t keep our hands off each other, we didn’t want to say goodbye, and we made immediate plans for a third date. I was so caught up in my feelings for him and for the potential of everything. If only I had known the third date would have been the beginning of the end.
The following week, we were at my house for a movie night. I put on 10 Things I Hate About You because it’s a classic and he’d never seen it before. By this point in our situation, I was still nervous as hell around him. I could hardly manage two meals a day and every text sent and received came with a rush of butterflies and emotion. I lay in his arms all throughout the movie, my head against his chest with his arms wrapped around me. He’d occasionally kiss the top of my head. Every time he laughed or spoke, I felt the vibrations in his chest and couldn’t stop myself from thinking how it would be so easy to get used to this. Maybe I already had a little bit. I didn’t know I could feel so nervous and comfortable around someone at the same time. I thought it was safe to assume that if things kept going well, I’d eventually have a boyfriend.
After the movie, our date transitioned to the more physical side of things. I had never been open or vulnerable with someone like this before and before things went further, I told him about how I had been sexually abused as a child. I hadn’t told anyone that before and I knew it was a big risk but at the time I felt it was necessary because I thought it might play a part in my hesitance toward physical intimacy. If it wasn’t glaringly obvious, I need an emotional connection to become intimate with someone. He was very understanding and supportive and took the whole thing very well but I imagine it probably freaked him out. Looking back, I probably wouldn’t tell someone that so soon, even if we are intimate.
For the sake of privacy, I won’t go into detail about exactly what we did, except to say that based on a slight miscommunication on my end, I think he was expecting intercourse to happen, and when it very clearly wasn’t going to happen and we instead did something else, things took a sort of weird turn. I don’t think either of us had a bad time but, based on his demeanor and a couple of things he said during and after (one of which was “I can’t believe that worked”), it just wasn’t exactly what he had in mind for that night. We cuddled afterward for a short time and I remember he asked me something that seemed to indicate that there would be a next time, but I can’t remember what it was for the life of me.
After the date was over, I was still spinning from being with him and from the fact that I had gained these new experiences, so I didn’t catch on to the changes in his demeanor until the next day. I realized that when saying goodbye the night before, it wasn’t like the last two times; no kiss, no immediate plans for another date, and a sort of lackluster hug. Over the weekend we didn’t text as much and the conversation never ventured into flirtation like before. I drove myself crazy wondering if something had changed or if it was all in my head. I even cried over it at one point. Eventually, I got brave enough to steer the conversation back to a flirty/suggestive manner and convinced myself all was okay.
For the next two weeks, things would happen in this pattern:
We would text every day, although the conversation became a little repetitive, and sometimes his response times would take hours or even until the next day. He always apologized and gave a specific reason so I thought nothing of it, though I would get slightly annoyed (especially because he was always active on Instagram!).
We would flirt a little and send selfies. Sometimes the flirting would be innocent and other times it would be more suggestive. We even discussed sexual fantasies at one point. I was of course too shy to say mine and instead read his multiple-paragraph smut about everything he wanted to do with me, taking it as insurance that he was still interested in me.
I would suggest plans for him to come over to my house at the end of the week, both of us knowing full well what ‘come to my house’ means.
The end of the week would come and I’d ask what his plans were. He’d say that he wanted to come over and see me but he was too busy with homework and that he was sorry. I would say that I understand and get my hopes up that I would see him the next week, just to be disappointed all over again.
I never expected him to make me a priority over other things in his life. He was in his last semester of college with a full-time job and a busier social life than mine, so I understood completely that workloads fluctuate, people get busy, and plans get canceled. It was the fact that I was always the one to suggest plans and even then, they were never concrete. It was such a shift from how things were before that I couldn’t help overanalyzing and crying over it. But I pretended like everything was fine, like I was totally cool with it, because what else could I have done?
Close to the end of the third week of this same cycle, I had had enough. He never initiated anything, our texts had become routine, and I was driving myself insane thinking he never wanted to see me again. I decided to put myself out there one last time.
Me: For the record, we don’t have to always meet up at my house. We can do something at a time and place that’s more convenient for you. I would just like to see you because you’re pretty cool or whatever :)
Him: True, but your house is fun too! Visiting you is always nice.
A few more minutes of this back-and-forth between us went on before I gave up. So I wasn’t good enough to take out anymore but still good enough to come around and fuck whenever it’s convenient for him? I wanted to voice my side of things and work things out or accept that we had run our course, but I was afraid. I thought he would realize something was wrong and put in more effort but nearly 24 hours went by without any contact until he finally sent the “we should just be friends” text.
I was too afraid to speak up because I knew it would require me to make a decision and I knew that decision would bring about the end of something that had made me feel alive, as dramatic as that sounds. I also wanted to work things out because I thought I had already found a great person. I had already braved the anxieties of sending the first text, going on the first date, etc. The thought of having to start over and do that again with someone else filled me with dread and disgust. But it was too late. He had decided for me. I wish I had said something instead of giving him the silent treatment.
I told him okay. Even though this outcome wasn’t what I wanted, he had made his decision and I had to respect it. I wasn’t going to argue or beg. But I did allow myself to be vulnerable one last time in order to ask him why. I told him that I felt like something had been off between us for a while. He said that I was smart, beautiful, and lovely, but that he just lost interest and it was totally him. I rolled my eyes and made a “get over him” playlist as I deleted our texts, photos, and his number. I allowed myself the weekend to spiral and cry and obsess over what went wrong. Was it something I did? Something I said? If I had done or said something different, would things have worked out?
The weekend ended but my obsessing didn’t.
Over the next few months, I overanalyzed every single moment we had together and came to the embarrassing conclusion that I had confused lust for romance and gave all of myself to it. While I don’t think he’s completely blameless, I scolded myself for clinging to all of the perceived signs that he wanted the same thing I did and ignoring all of the obvious signs that he didn’t. I tortured myself with questions I’ll never get the answers to.
What was he thinking the whole time? What is he thinking now?
Did he even like me at all? Was there any romance at all, even just a little? We held hands. We cuddled. He kissed my forehead, for god’s sake! You don’t kiss the foreheads of people you just want to fuck!
Was he really looking for a long-term relationship, like his profile said, and then for whatever reason decided he didn’t want one with me, but still wanted to use me until he found someone better? Or was that just something he put on his profile to get more matches?
Did he have any intentions of seeing me again, even if it was just for sex, or was I being breadcrumbed or slowly ghosted?
Did he see how inexperienced and naive I was when it came to all of this and use that to his advantage?
Did he mean it when he said he would take me out to those places or was he just future-faking? Did he mean it when he said we could take it slow or was he just saying anything in order to get what *he* wanted?
I even questioned myself, my perception of reality, and if I had the right to think these things and feel this way. For the most part, he treated me well and he did say that he wasn’t looking for anything serious, so was I justified in thinking that I had been led on? While I didn’t outright state my feelings for him, I made it pretty obvious that I was crushing on him big time. He had to have known. It was hard to reconcile the person I had gotten to know with the person who did and said these things that confused me.
Even if he had meant it when he said we could take things slow, my version of taking things slow is not casually fucking first and then catching feelings later. I spent too long torturing myself with what-ifs but I know this: if we had continued to see each other, I would have kept giving all of myself to him for little to nothing in return, waiting around and hoping he would one day realize how great I am and make me his. So at least he had the decency to end things when he did instead of continuing whatever was going on.
I am not an option. I will not be used. You will have all of me or none of me.
In the wake of these realizations, I became so ashamed and angry with myself for getting so caught up in him. I lived and died by how fast he texted back. I craved his attention, not because I was an attention-seeker, but because I had never received this type of attention before and the feeling was addicting. Since I was a late bloomer, I had been starved of touch and romance and lust and attraction all these years and then he came along and showed me what I was missing. He made me feel desired for the first time. I felt so pathetic, always thinking about him when he sure as hell was not thinking about me. I chastised myself for not seeing the situation for what it was and allowing things to continue even when I did get an inkling that something was off. And most of all, I hated myself for feeling so strongly about a person/situation that barely lasted 2 months. I thought something must be wrong with me.
Despite being an adult woman, I had never felt more like a teenager in my life. I thought waiting to date until my twenties would’ve made things easier, and to some degree it did, but I realized that I could not skip the cringe, the awkward moments, the consuming feelings, the crushing heartache, and the lessons learned. I had never experienced this before, so of course I would feel things more intensely, I would not do or say everything perfectly, and I would not always know the red flags immediately.
So maybe for a while, I will feel like a teenager stuck in an adult’s body when it comes to dating. But is that always a bad thing?
In her memoir Everything I Know About Love, Dolly Alderton says:
“No matter how levelheaded and wise you become, you are, I’m afraid, an animal still. I believe we are never immune to the potential humiliation of giddy, all-encompassing, adolescent romance.”
As I get older, I’ll learn more lessons about dating and all that comes with it in my own time. Hopefully, I won’t have to learn so many the hard way, but at least those are the ones that seem to only take one time to stick. I may have missed out on the typical teen dating experience but when the butterflies in my stomach aren’t making me anxious, they make me feel 17 again in the best way. I can’t let past experiences prevent me from finding the person who I can make better ones with.
For my fellow late bloomers, here is everything I know about love at 26, Dolly Alderton-style:
The first person to give you those experiences you’ve been craving since teenhood is just that: the first. This person will feel special and you may even have a place for them in your heart long after things are over. That’s okay. But they are just the first of however many. They are just the first.
You will feel things more intensely because this is a new experience. Feelings are wonderful but don’t let them cloud your judgment. And when things end and those intense feelings of heartache consume you, it is okay to let them for a little bit. Everything you feel, how strongly you feel, and how long you feel it for is valid.
You are your own person with a life outside of anyone you’re seeing. Fill your life with hobbies, work, and friends to avoid getting attached too fast.
95% of dating advice on the internet is bullshit. There are no hard and fast rules. Take things at your own pace, do what feels right, and ask trusted friends if you really need help with something.
Dating and all that comes with it is awkward, cringe, embarrassing, and just downright absurd sometimes, even for people who’ve done it for years. Yes, practice makes perfect, but nothing and no one is actually perfect, so give yourself grace.
It is wise to be cautious about opening up too fast to someone but if you feel comfortable doing so, then do it. Allowing someone to see you and know you fully is brave and beautiful and there’s no shame in it. Never apologize for being vulnerable.
A person who is honest with their intentions will never have you questioning them.
Knowing who and what you want does come with experience but you don’t have to date every person under the sun in order to figure those things out. Despite your late bloomer status, you are an adult with some knowledge about what you like and don’t like. Make a list, find people who meet your criteria, and be forthright about your intentions right away.
For the love of god, take an attachment style quiz.
The first few months of seeing someone are full of infatuation and rose-colored delusions. You are seeing your own fantasy of them and the potential they hold. Remember they’re just a person you’re getting to know.
The right person won’t care if you haven’t done XYZ yet and they will respect the pace you want to go at.
Even now, I still struggle with these lessons. I haven’t made any steps to start dating again. I still have moments where I think about the entire situation and get horribly embarrassed or insecure about things I said and did. I still question my perception of things and if I was overreacting. I even debated on posting this essay at all because I don’t want to offend him (not that he would see it anyway) and I do still see him as a good person despite everything. I do wish him the best. Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe a little part of me is cursed to always have a soft spot for him. Instead of being ashamed of it, I’m trying to see it as a sign of my ability to feel strongly. I am a Scorpio, after all!
Finally, I leave you with a song by one of my favorite artists, Jorja Smith, who I think encapsulates the feelings of trying to find romance along with trying to find yourself excellently.
"When we are young
We all want someone
Who we think is the one
Just to fit in
There's no need to rush
Take your time
Life's a big old ride
Sit back and enjoy the vibe
We all want a teenage fantasy
Want it when we can't have it
When we got it we don't seem to want it."
- Jorja Smith, "Teenage Fantasy"
Definitely advice that I wish I’d gotten from an older sister before I turned twenty. Thanks for this!
this is so brilliant! I relate to so much of this myself, and you're so talented with words. Thank you for writing this and congratulations on one year of your substack!