Dating : I never wanted to be a shallow person.

h2>Dating : I never wanted to be a shallow person.

I never wanted to be a shallow person.

In fact, over the past few years I’ve prided myself on not caring what someone looks like, choosing to care only about how great the conversation is instead. I love a good conversation, and even more, a good argument. Have a good argument with me and you could possibly sweep me off my feet.

So imagine my dilemma after finding someone who I love talking to, love arguing with, love spending time with in general, but who I am not attracted to.

His name is Clay. We met online of course, through Hinge where his ridiculous and witty banter caught my attention. After talking to him for only a few days I knew I needed to meet him. In his pictures he looked like a handsome, tall (his height was listed as a whopping 6’5”) and lean white man with dark hair and a 5 o’clock shadow. I was in.

When we finally met up he looked just like his pictures: tall, skinny, handsome, except for one thing. He was a little TOO skinny. I turned a blind eye — as I am usually prone to doing — thinking that it would grow on me.

Five dates later, it did not grow on me. In fact, it got worse.

Our last date was a movie date. I was waiting near the concessions for chicken tenders (I saw Avengers: Endgame right before and I was STARVING after that three hour movie) when he popped up right next to me and slid easily into a conversation. I was genuinely happy to see him, I’m sure the smile on my face couldn’t have been brighter. As we walked to the theater I took a moment to appreciate how well we worked together, how comfortable I felt and how easy it was to talk to him. “Maybe I can do this.” I kept telling myself.

That was until about halfway through the movie (Dumbo; don’t waste your time). We were at a theater with those reclining seats that made you feel like you were at home spread out on the couch watching a movie (except you’ve paid out the ass for it, but I digress). He decided to put his feet flat on the recliner with his knees bent and facing up. Nothing was wrong with that, I was so bored during the movie a few times that I did that as well just to distract myself. Except when I did it, it looked like two hotdogs folded over on themselves. When he did it, it looked like two wishbones sticking straight up in the air.

I stared at his legs for a full five seconds in disbelief. There was no way he was actually that skinny. Could he actually be that skinny? How was it even possible? I knew immediately I was completely turned off. I looked away from his legs and forced myself to stare at the bizarre story that was unfolding on screen. I tried my hardest to concentrate on it but there was a battle raging inside of me. I was disgusted with myself for basing my future with this man on how skinny his legs were, but on the other hand I couldn’t bring myself to be even remotely attracted to him. I tried to remember the good points about him, the good conversation, how comfortable I felt, how easy it all was. But his legs kept permeating my vision, blinding me from the movie and from my reasoning. It was like they were etched onto my corneas, preventing me from seeing or concentrating on anything except on how a giant would completely pass over him as meal and choose to use his limbs for toothpicks instead.

I would like to say it got better, but it didn’t. Outside the theater it was raining buckets. Luckily we were both prepared with rain coats and ready to walk to our cars. It was then he pointed out that he actually had on a women’s jacket. He found it at his old workplace and he’d been wearing it ever since with pride.

“Don’t you love the way it cinches waist and accentuates my hips?” He joked.

I gave him a frozen smile, trying my hardest to disguise my revulsion. I knew he had no idea about the combatting emotions I had toward him but that statement definitely didn’t help his case.

We parted amicably as usual, promising to text each other later and I hopped into my car. That was our fifth date and I still hadn’t kissed him. I couldn’t bring myself to, it didn’t feel right. I had to face the ugly truth I didn’t want to admit to myself. I truly was not attracted to him.

But he was tall. But he was funny. But he was emotionally in tune and available. He was an intellectual, he was a do-gooder, he loved reading and he actually planned things (which is extremely rare for a man, in my opinion). He matched up with so many things that I wanted.

But I was simply not attracted to him.

And I felt like trash for that.

After that date I kept trying to reason with myself and come up with some viable reasons for why he might be that skinny. What if he had some sort of condition? Or he was sick and bed-ridden for such a long time that he’s just starting to gain the weight back? What if I did kiss him and that sparked something in me and made me gain attraction for him after all? These questions plague me every time I talk to him, and underneath the enjoyment is a burdening uncertainty.

What do you do when you are just not attracted?

I plan to see him again next weekend. I’ll either break it off, or decide it’s worth it and keep trying. I want to listen to my body but I also want to listen to my head. Which one will win?

Read also  Dating : The art of simulated hope

What do you think?

22 Points
Upvote Downvote

Laisser un commentaire

Votre adresse e-mail ne sera pas publiée. Les champs obligatoires sont indiqués avec *

Dating : Getting back with a old crush when I messed up

POF : Are my messages not getting to people or am I just getting unlucky?