One of the things I often hear guys complain about when it comes to dating is that they got rejected (or sometimes ghosted) without understanding why. They wouldn’t mind a ‘no’ if there was some obvious incompatibility, but as far as they’re concerned they didn’t do anything ‘wrong’. Bear with me here dudes, because you might not like my answer, but if you’re earnestly asking this question then I have a few explanations you could consider.
As with all of my posts, this one is heavily influenced by my experience – I am mainly into men so my perspective comes from there. I also want to acknowledge that one of the reasons I struggled when dating recently was because my heart wasn’t in it. This was in large part down to personal shit, which I addressed a little in this post – it’s not you, it’s me. So the following piece doesn’t tell the full story of why I struggled to connect with anyone, and you should weigh it accordingly. I almost didn’t publish it at all, but in the end I decided that it still covers some useful ground that addresses a complaint I’ve heard a fair bit from guys in the comment section, and my response might be useful to those of you who are asking in earnest. Equally (or perhaps more) importantly, I hope it will be reassuring to women who repeatedly come up against the same problems I do.
Note: not everyone gets a straight-up ‘rejection’
During my most recent bout of dating, I tried to be kinder to myself when it came to ending interactions. Although I felt pretty guilty about it, because I am nothing if not led by the comments on this blog and conversations I have with men on social media, I bit the bullet and allowed myself to simply unmatch when I wasn’t feeling something, rather than taking on the responsibility of letting a guy down explicitly.
Why? Firstly because dating men, as a woman, is inherently a giant pile of admin and I don’t have the time to send individual, personally-crafted rejection messages to men who haven’t bothered to write much more than ‘hey!’. Secondly and more importantly, I don’t believe I have the right to inflict negative feedback on someone unless they’ve asked for it. It’s mean.
If it came to an in-person date, I do think I owe guys a little more. So although I would prefer to yank my own teeth out than give someone straightforward (but critical-sounding) feedback, if a guy were to ask me directly ‘why aren’t you up for a second date?’ then I’d try to articulate the reason as best I could. This is a risky strategy, as many women will know. Once a man I dated but did not have sex with emailed to ask why I’d said ‘no’ to the shag at the last minute. To this day I kick myself for taking time to send a thoughtful, diplomatic but honest answer because he responded with very bad grace. I should have just told him ‘no is a complete sentence’ and had done with it. Lesson learned.
Boring preamble, sorry, but I do think it’s important to show you my credentials before I launch into this: I aim to approach dating in a very considered and hopefully kind way. You might disagree with the conclusions I come to about what I do and don’t owe to men, but you can’t accuse me of not thinking (or overthinking) about the way I behave. I genuinely care about treating people fairly and kindly on dating sites. I try not to be rude or disrespectful to the people I meet, because they’re taking courage in hand to put themselves out there and that deserves basic decency in return. Nor am I someone who enters into dating chat when I have no intention of meeting anybody in person. If I’m dating, I’m in it for the win: I want to meet someone good, in person, and ideally build a connection that leads to a shit-hot relationship.
In order to do this, I have to reject (and, yes, sometimes ‘ghost’) a lot of men. Here are the top three reasons why I do that:
1. You were rude/frightening.
It absolutely boils my piss that I have to write this, but I think it’s important. It had been a while since I used dating apps and although I expected a bunch of spam and a hell of a lot of suitors who didn’t ask questions, I was extremely shocked by how many men appear to have grown quite rude and/or frightening. Maybe dudes just give less of a fuck as they get older, but here are a few genuine interactions I had on The Apps during my last ‘adventure’ on them:
- A guy whose first message involved him rating me out of 10. He told me I was a ‘solid 9 on paper’ and that we should chat to see if I could maintain that score on a date. Call me old fashioned, but even if you’re sticking me in the top percentile I actually don’t want to be rated, ever!
- A guy to whom I sent a playful, flirty first message relating to something fun he had on his profile, who responded by telling me ‘you can do better than that’ (!!). When I ignored that message (because it’s rude) he sent a follow-up at 2 in the morning scolding me for ‘ghosting’ him because I hadn’t continued the conversation.
- A guy with whom I had what I thought was a lovely chat, where we swapped fun recommendations for bands and comedy, had some nice playful banter, and seemed to enjoy many things in common. I can’t stress enough how excited I was about this guy. We seemed to have a genuine connection and he was exactly My Kind Of Hot (beautifully tattooed and scruffy as all fuck). I had every intention of inviting him on a date the next time we spoke… until I woke up one morning to no fewer than SIXTEEN messages in my inbox, of an increasingly, aggressive sexual nature, almost certainly written while drunk or on drugs, over a period of THREE FULL HOURS in the middle of the night. My alarm bells rang so hard they fell off the walls, and once I’d unmatched him I avoided the site for a full week because opening it made me feel physically sick with fear.
2. You dropped the conversation
Me: That’s a cool festival pic – where was it taken? Do you do many festivals?
Him: Yeah that’s 2000 Trees, I love festivals. I do Glastonbury each year as well!
Me: Ah amazing, who’s the best act you’ve seen at one? I love Trees too – who’s on your ‘must see’ list this year?
Him: Really excited about [Band], and you should totally check out [other band] if you haven’t already.
If we’ve had a few back-and-forth messages during which I’ve asked you relevant things about stuff you put in your profile, and you have not asked me anything, then I’ll stop asking more and simply wait to see if you send me a question. If you don’t? Done. You dropped that, not me, and I don’t feel guilty about it.
3. A reason that is obvious to me but mysterious to you
This gets to the heart of what I want to write today, and I’m so sorry for bringing it screeching back to the number one problem I have when dating men, but it’s the number one problem for a reason: they do not ask me any questions.
I don’t mean ‘not asking questions’ is why any individual man got rejected (though it may well be), I mean that ‘not asking questions’ probably speaks directly to your confusion as to why you got rejected. If you’re upset that you keep getting rejected for seemingly no reason, ask yourself if it’s possible that the reason is screamingly obvious to your date, but not to you. The solution to this mystery might be there, just waiting for you to uncover, but if you haven’t asked your date anything about herself – her wants, her needs, her life, her past, her passions – it’s unsurprising that you can’t magically intuit the reason she’s decided you don’t match.
I ask a lot of questions on a first date, aiming to get a feel for what this person is like, what they want out of life, what brings them joy and how they might be when they’re in a relationship, and I hope it won’t surprise you to learn that the reasons I reject them usually spring from these enquiries. I already know what you look like, after all: I’ve seen your dating site pictures. I know we have some stuff in common: we’ve chatted interests before we meet in the pub. That meeting is there for me to apply a new layer of filtering: is this person self-aware? Are they kind? Do they reciprocate and match my energy when we’re chatting? Can they make me laugh? Do they have a compatible outlook when it comes to life, love, sex, etc? All that stuff. It’s through these questions that I work out whether you’re a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’.
But if those conversations are one-sided, then I am working with an extraordinary amount of information where you have practically nothing besides: ‘this woman makes me feel wanted and interesting.’
Of course you’re not going to reject me! I’ve basically been interviewing you, and who doesn’t love being asked insightful things about their life and opinions?! You have no idea which aspects of me might trigger you to say ‘no thanks’, because you have not been actively looking for them. The answer as to why you and I are incompatible is right there for the taking, you just need to pick it up: throw the questions back to me!
Incidentally, there’s a fantastic episode of The Dildorks podcast which tackles this ‘asking questions’ thing, and I found it very validating to hear that it isn’t just men in the UK who suck at asking them.
Informational imbalance
By the end of most of my dates, the information balance is extremely skewed. I know lots about you, and everything about me. You know everything about you but almost nothing about me. It’s understandable that you wouldn’t have some magical insight into our incompatibilities because you can’t read minds, and you haven’t asked for the information that you’d need to get to a useful answer.
This is best explained by example:
Me: So, talk me through your ideal Friday night. You’ve got money in your pocket, no work tomorrow, all the people you like are free to hang out if you want them to… what do you do?
Him: Oh! Well I’m actually big into movies and TV so honestly my ideal Friday night would be a Netflix-and-chill kind of deal… [this usually leads into him recommending me some films/TV box sets and telling me I absolutely must watch this one or that].
I’m trying so hard not to write that in a mean or sarcastic way, but allow me a sidebar eyeroll of frustration here please: I could live happily for the rest of my life if I never again had to sit through someone telling me I ‘must’ watch something. So many men have wasted time during dates boring on about how shocking it is that I’ve not seen Succession, or Always Sunny (that’s the one I get most often these days. It used to be Arrested Development, then Rick and Morty, then that cartoon about the man who is also a horse). It doesn’t matter that, early in the conversation, I tell them I don’t have a Disney+ subscription. Doesn’t matter that I tell them I prefer the occasional trash reality TV, Taskmaster, Lego Masters Australia, or silly Jason Statham movie. They continue to bore on at me anyway because this recommendation – THEIR recommendation – is surely the one that’s going to convert me into being a sofa-loving TV buff, where all the others have failed.*
ANYWAY. Ignoring my personal bugbear with TV recommendations, look at the conversation in italics above and ask yourself whether, when I reject this guy, he’ll instinctively realise it’s because our ideal Friday nights don’t match up. Would he know? Probably not. If he’d thrown the question back to me, he’d have learned that my ideal Friday starts in the pub with a group of friends, then moves on to a fun bouncy gig or perhaps a comedy night, ends with us having an afterparty at my flat (or somebody else’s), then ideally a bout of powerful, frantic sex when bedtime rolls round. Bosh.
Quite a different tone to his ideal Friday, and reason enough for him to reject me, never mind vice versa. If you want a partner to get stuck into box sets with, I am absolutely Not The One. I wouldn’t reject someone purely for this, of course, but I would use it as a basis to ask further questions – exploring whether he also enjoys gigs and parties or whether he’s naturally quite a homebody. No shade to homebodies, by the way: you do you. Just don’t expect me to do it with you all the time, because I’m me.
“Would you like to know mine?”
The interaction that really hammered this home to me was ironically one with a genuinely lovely guy who did ask me a lot of questions. We had a fantastic first date during which we talked a lot and laughed a lot and I got my hopes up that this connection might continue. So we planned a second date, and I turned up eager to get stuck in to the topics we’d not yet got round to discussing. Most notably: relationship history and attitudes towards sex.
I don’t put a tonne of sex stuff on my dating profiles, to be honest. I hint at kink but I keep it vague and mild, and I don’t tell people I am GOTN (obviously). I actually hate this, and I would love to be far more up front, but the problem is if you go too up front you just attract a bunch of men who want to choke you and spit in your mouth without caring that you have a personality. I mention my love of sex, because I need to meet someone who’s down with that, but it’s not the headline. So with this guy, I needed to find out where he was at sex-and-relationship wise.
I asked a couple of questions to open up a discussion about this: so, tell me what you’re looking for from dating. What’s your story so far? Can you give me a potted history of your relationships? His answer was vague and awkward, which is fine: discussing these topics isn’t easy for all of us, and I appreciate that I am quite direct. But coupled with my directness is a genuine need to be with someone who’s willing to talk fucking. To identify their relationship needs and share them with emotional honesty. I can help someone through this, if they aren’t used to doing it, but I am too old now to submit to giving guys the 101 basics of relationship comms. That’s partly why I ask the question. It turned out this guy had very little experience of relationships (which is, again, fine, and actually if I’m honest quite exciting to me) but something gave me pause. It wasn’t that he couldn’t answer my questions, it’s that the act of asking caused him to shut down. Where before he’d been curious about every aspect of my life, in this huge, significant-to-me area it was almost like he didn’t want to know. He didn’t ask me anything about my past in return, and when I prompted him (“Would you like to hear my potted history?”) he told me I didn’t need to disclose that if I didn’t want to. Which is true and fair but… I wanted to! He didn’t want to hear it though, so fair enough. I didn’t push.
That’s why he was a ‘no’ though. Because our relationship history was so wildly different, and rather than exploring this as an interesting point of difference and seeing if we could connect by sharing alternate perspectives, instead he wanted to shut the conversation down. Fair play, no shade to him. There are other people who’ll approach sex and relationships in similar ways, and I hope he finds one he likes – he really is a very lovely dude. He’s just not for me.
How to avoid rejection limbo
In conclusion, if you’re wondering why you get rejected during so many dating interactions, you might want to consider that even though it may be mysterious to you, the answer is obvious to your date/match. I am aware that we don’t all have the same conversational style, and that ‘asking questions/showing curiosity/examining the way the person sitting opposite you thinks and feels’ does not come naturally to everyone. Often when I write posts like this, I get criticism along the lines of ‘but I am neurodivergent in X, Y, Z way, and that means it is impossible for me to have conversations like this!’. Fair play. I think this is a skill that people learn, rather than one we’re innately born with, but I’m not going to argue the point because I don’t know enough about your individual challenges and perspective. If that’s you, that’s you, and I’m not going to deny your lived experience of what you find difficult when dating. But I’m trying to very honestly respond to a concern that a fair few guys have thrown at me in comments here or on social media, and I’d be doing you a disservice if I posted bullshit rather than my earnest opinion.
Most of the times I’ve rejected (or ghosted, or unmatched, or just stopped messaging) men, I personally think the reason is extremely obvious. They:
- were rude or threatening
- dropped the conversation or
- were incompatible with me in a way that became apparent when I started asking questions.
Options 1 and 2 you can solve pretty easily: show your last messages to a friend and ask if they think you might have fallen into either of those categories. Assess the conversation and see if you think both you and your match were showing equal interest in each other. Examine your language and tone and consider whether – even if your intentions were lighthearted – you could have come across to a complete stranger as rude or threatening.
For option three? I am so sorry my loves, truly I am, but we’re going to have to return, once more, to the topic that will literally never go away until all men in London start approaching dates with curiosity…
ASK QUESTIONS!
I’ve had this post in draft for a while but not really worked out how to finish it off until yesterday, when I read this frankly terrifying story in Cosmo by Vera Papisova, about dating right-wing men to see if she could better understand them. She sat down with some appalling individuals and asked for their perspectives on dating, relationships and life in general. The piece ends on this beautifully-made point:
On our last date, we were walking through a park when I told him we couldn’t keep seeing each other, that I disagreed with most of his beliefs and didn’t align with the future he wanted. Confused, he replied that from his point of view, we actually agreed on most things.
No, I said, we didn’t, which he would know if he’d asked me any questions about myself. He still leaned in and tried to kiss me. We never saw each other again.
So there you have it. Ask questions! Be curious about the other person! Not because they might be a journalist secretly gathering material for a Cosmo story (though that’d be fun, I’d love to date a secret journalist), but because it’s more than possible the answer to ‘why aren’t we compatible’ is flashing bright neon signs that you just aren’t actually looking at. This particular dude went on at least two dates with a left-leaning journalist then spent so much time monologuing about his own right-wing opinions he was completely blindsided when she revealed that hers were different. It’s an extreme example, but it neatly illustrates a problem that I suspect is quite common, one you might want to think about if you repeatedly find yourself baffled as to why your matches aren’t working out.
Perhaps framing the boring advice to ‘ask questions’ in this way might help where my other attempts to hammer the message home have failed. Asking questions doesn’t just allow you to find out more about your date, it may also save you heartache and confusion down the line. Somewhere buried in your date’s responses there is probably a plausible answer to the question ‘why aren’t we compatible?’.
If you can’t bring yourself to ask questions out of curiosity, ask so you have a better understanding of why your date might say ‘no’ to seeing you again.
Postscript: TV show recommendations
*More on the ‘recommending me TV shows’ thing. Having pondered this a little, I actually think my issue with guys who do this comes down – again – to a lack of questions/curiosity. Too often these recommendations are framed in such a way that implies this guy knows me, even though he has not asked about my likes or listened to what I’ve said. If someone listened carefully when I talked about the sorts of things I enjoy (‘Oh, you like Taskmaster? Have you seen [other similar show where comedians Do A Thing]?’ I’d be very receptive. I have recently been reading a bunch of awesome books off the back of some gushing enthusiasm from a guy I’m banging. And they’re great, I love them. I love them because he hasn’t just recommended every single thing he loves, he has carefully selected recommendations based on things I’ve said I enjoy. Unfortunately, what tends to happen more often is that a guy raves about his favourite TV show then tells me ‘you HAVE to watch it, I think you’d LOVE it!’.
Well… why do you think that? What is it about what I have told you that makes this recommendation specific to my tastes? Usually the answer is ‘nothing’ – he doesn’t know anything about my tastes because he hasn’t asked or listened, he’s just telling me about something he loves and assuming I’ll feel the same way. And ‘projecting your opinions onto me, like I’m a blank slate on which you’re writing’ is not the same as connecting with the person I actually am.
It’s OK for you to love something that I don’t – in fact, it’s very common! And it can be fun to swap stories about the things we love, so each of us can bask in the joy the other person feels about Their Thing (as long as you give equal time to MY things too, of course). But when you assume I’ll love stuff just because you do, you’re telling me something significant about how you view me (and maybe women in general): that I am not an independent person with my own thoughts and opinions, I am valuable if and only if I am the same as you, or am willing to become so. Miss me with that.
32 Comments
Been a while since I’ve been on a first date but I’ve definitely done the “you should check this out, you’ll LOVE it” thing, on slim-to-no evidence, in the past.
Also a little bit of the converse, where I’m reasonably sure it’s not somebody’s thing, so I just go quiet about it rather than share my joy. Possibly more relevant to established relationships, or at least nth dates, rather than initial chats/first dates, but if you keep not sharing joys and passions you can really cut yourself off from somebody.
The not-asking-questions is the absolute bane of my dating experience too. (middle aged, straight, American woman here.)
But I’m starting to think it goes farther than just conversational skills.
If you’re curious about something/someone, you try to find out more about it/them, right? These men who don’t ask questions, who drop the conversation like a rock, they aren’t curious about us. They aren’t asking because they have no real desire to know more. If they did, they would.
And then I saw a facebook reel recently that probably connects. It was a guy opining that these men don’t really like women. They like the idea of women. They like what women can do for them. They like having a woman around. But do they LIKE her, like they like a friend? Like they like one of those TV shows? Do they enjoy her for real, connect with her, and want to know more and make sure she stays in their life? Meh, no, not really.
It’s not that they hate women. They just don’t really care one way or another. It’s cultural, it’s social, it’s historical. Some of it is personal.
So if they don’t like women, then they aren’t curious about any one particular woman, then they aren’t going to ask questions or make an effort to get to know us, because it’s literally not a concern for them.
There’s something there. I wish there weren’t.
I wish you weren’t right but the longer I live the harder this rings true. There are so many men who want a woman. A woman like X Y Z who does A B C… but they have no interest in understanding or connecting with individual women as people in ourselves. Like friends. It’s so depressing. Thank you for joining in. It is less bleak knowing I’m not the only one feeling this.
Flex
You could share your passion collaboratively though, even on an early date.
“My absolute fave desert island box set would be Brooklyn 99, just love the growing romance between Jake and Amy. What would you take to a desert island, would it be comedy or more of a drama?”
Or whatever.
Agree! Flex, it’s definitely not about not being able to share your passions – it’s GREAT when people share their passions, I love it. But when it’s a firehose of someone else’s passion without any reciprocal interest, I feel like they’d have as much fun talking to a pot plant as to me. Share your joys! Enjoy it. Then understand the other person would enjoy doing it too, and ask them =)
“Options 1 and 2 you can solve pretty easily: show your last messages to a friend” – there is, unfortunately, a practical problem with this suggestion. I believe that with most of the dating apps when you unmatch somebody the conversation history disappears. This is unfortunate.
I remember one woman I was chatting with last year who told me that (due to abusive behaviour from others) she was going to delete her Tinder account later that day. I heeded that warning and grabbed a copy of our chat history and I am grateful that she gave me that chance to save our first discussions. We’re still friends today.
You don’t owe some dude that you haven’t even met with that much of a favour – I’m not saying that. I’m just saying it is a shame that the “show your last messages” technique often doesn’t quite work. Not that most of these guys would ever consider doing it anyway
You are still single and 40+. A fine one to talk.
It’s so interesting that you see ‘being single’ as a failure state here. I definitely want to be in a relationship with someone who is kind, caring, funny, compassionate, and my equal in other respects but… seeing as he’s not shown up yet, I’m significantly happier being single than throwing my lot in with an arsehole just so I can slap the label ‘Mrs’ on my societally-approved misery.
@Purple Rain you’re not wrong, it can be done.
I was trying to express a hole I’ve fallen into in the past. I knew a couple of ways round it before I first fell into it, but consistent execution is often harder!
We’ve got a real keeper here!
This is great advice, but it does kinda make me want to give up on dating entirely. I want so desperately to connect with people, find out what makes them tick, understand their needs and desires, discover how we might fit together. I’m endlessly curious but I struggle to sustain conversations. I feel so overwhelmed that I forget any questions to ask, or possibly even what a question is. I think (or hope) I’m ok on the not being rude or scary part, but I’m painfully anxious and awkward.
You’re absolutely right it’s such a fundamental, basic requirement for getting to know someone. And it’s something I can’t do no matter how hard I try. I think I’d better make peace with life on my own.
Hey Barry, I’m sorry this makes you feel like you want to give up. I have a question because I’m super curious and would love to know a bit more if you’re up for expanding. You say “I’m endlessly curious” but also that “I feel so overwhelmed that I forget any questions to ask” – can you give me an example of how this works? Because I feel like just following the paths your curiosity opens up would be the obvious answer here – it’s not about remembering a set list of questions that you ask everyone, it’s just about listening to what people say and then asking about the parts that you’re curious about. I am not sure I understand how that curiosity can exist but the questions aren’t there – what are you curious about with this particular person? There’s a question there, right? Even just “wow that’s really cool/interesting – could you tell me a bit more?”. Is that not how it works? If not pls could you explain – what does your curiosity look like if not this?
Hey yes I would really like to expand on this because you’re right, in theory the obvious answer is to just follow my curiosity, listen to people, and ask what I’m curious about. And I spent years hating myself for not being able to do something so obvious and simple. For a long time I thought it must mean I’m not really interested in others as actual people, only for selfish reasons, but as I’ve grown older it’s become clear that’s not true. I do value people for themselves, and I really truly want to understand and connect. So I will try to explain how curiosity works (or doesn’t) for me.
(this turned out a lot longer than I’d planned, and a bit “poor me” but hey, you asked)
For a bunch of different reasons it takes me a very very long time to feel comfortable and safe around somebody I don’t know. It doesn’t matter how kind or friendly they are or how much I like them. So talking to someone new, I’m focussed on i) listening to them; ii) holding back the overwhelming instinct to “protect” myself and shut the conversation down; iii) trying to stay calm and not unravel/dissociate completely.
It takes every bit of mental energy just to do that, and it’s exhausting. Often I can’t keep it up and the conversation just dies, but even if I’m successful, there’s no room left at all for my own thoughts, feelings, views, wants, etc. At that moment, those things don’t really exist for me. Anything that sparked my curiosity from e.g. messaging, or a previous date evaporates and I guess that’s what I mean by forgetting questions – I don’t sit and memorise lists of generic things to ask everybody (because that would be insane).
So it’s usually not until hours or even days after speaking to someone, after I’ve been able to process and reflect, that I really know what I think, and that’s when the curiosity comes (and it comes hard), but often it’s too late by then. Try messaging somebody a couple days after a first date with a load of enthusiastic questions when it’s already very clear there’s not going to be a second – it doesn’t go over well. This is also why just saying “hey that’s interesting tell me more” doesn’t work (believe me I’ve tried it) because in the moment, really I’m saying it blindly – either at random or just to everything – and it gets old quickly and doesn’t feel sincere, to me or the other person.
Now of course sometimes I’m having a particularly good day or maybe I’m starting to feel a bit more comfortable with someone, and hey I do actually get that spark of interest and curiosity there and then. And then I run into the other problem. Because of some bad things in my distant past we don’t need to get into, my default instinct is that me asking anybody anything, ever, is unforgivably rude and intrusive and selfish and will (deservedly) be met with hostility.
And logically, intellectually, I know that’s not true – of course it’s not true, but my body and my brain still behave like it is true and it takes a huge amount of effort to override that. And yeah, working through that in front of someone isn’t great for showing you’re genuinely interested in them as a person. If I manage to get anything out at all it’s either mangled or sounds insincere as shit because I’ve second-guessed it so much.
The thing is, I’m *so* different with people I know well and feel comfortable with. But I get that it’s an awful lot to ask someone to keep investing time and energy on the promise it might get better, at some point. I don’t hold it against anyone for deciding we’re not compatible because it’s too much hard work to date me. Accurate tbh, and I’m looking for a partner and an equal, not a primary caregiver. And I know it might not be impossible but I am so very tired and at some point I just need to stop.
Heading off some obvious questions:
Yes I’ve tried longer periods of messaging or texting before meeting. No it doesn’t help, meeting in person hits the reset button. It almost makes it worse because there’s such a difference between the me they’ve gotten to know online and the me standing in front of them.
Yes I’ve tried being up front about my difficulties and some people have been really great but they’ve also tended to assume it can’t be as bad as I say it is (it really is as bad as I say it is).
Yes I’ve been to therapy for this. A lot. So. Much. Therapy. This is me after professional help.
Hi Barry, sorry it’s taken a while to reply but thank you for expanding. That does sound incredibly difficult and I’m sorry that you experience those challenges. I don’t think it means you need to give up on dating forever though – you seem like you’re very aware of the challenge and taking all the right steps to fix it (being up front, being self-aware, going to therapy to try and tackle it). And the fact that you have formed close connections with people outside of the dating space speaks to you having abilities that you can use to meet people – just maybe not in a traditional dating sense where things are incredibly overwhelming for you. You’re right that it’s a lot to ask of a stranger that they invest a huge amount of time in building a longer term connection, but there are myriad ways those connections can be built which don’t start on a dating site. I think that traditional ‘swipe/message/meet’ dating is wrong for a lot of people, and if it’s wrong for you then that’s a good thing to recognise and understand and the fact that you’ve pinpointed this is a credit to you. There are many people who go out and date without a single clue who they are or what they want, what they find difficult and what they are capable of, and I think having this self-awareness and understanding is a very positive thing, even if the awareness leads you to conclude that this style is simply impossible for you to get on with.
I’m not going to give you advice because you haven’t asked for it, but what I would say is that it is very apparent to me from the framing of your comment that you’re seeing all these things as a failure in yourself rather than, perhaps, a mismatch in terms of your needs and the abilities/willingness of the person you’re dating to meet those needs. “I don’t hold it against anyone for deciding we’re not compatible because it’s too much hard work to date me.” I hear this, and I think you’re right that it’s a completely legit reason for someone to say ‘we aren’t compatible’, but also… incompatibility isn’t a failing of yours, it’s just how these things are. And perhaps with time, practice, a change in perspective etc, these things might become more possible in the future. I don’t think it’s a matter of having to find someone now who is willing to go on a lot of very awkward dates until you get into your comfort zone, maybe it’s a case of practicing so that the stress of dating doesn’t lead to this kind of freezing-in-the-moment. Maybe it’s a case of putting dating priorities aside for now and focusing on other things that make you feel good about yourself and help build your confidence. Maybe it is just a case of putting yourself in situations where you meet people but without a ‘dating’ framework that is going to freak you out. There are lots of options, but as I say I’m not going to try and give you advice on it because you didn’t ask and you also seem like you know yourself pretty well and have done a lot of the work on this already.
Given that though, I do want to ask: seeing as you have identified this problem really well already, and been working on it for a long time, what was it about my post in particular that made you want to give up on dating entirely? Why was that the straw that broke the camel’s back here? I ask because I get comments along these lines quite a bit – when I offer advice that I think (and I think you think too?) is pretty straightforward and obvious (ask questions), often men will comment to say ‘This is too hard I give up!’. Personally I think it’s important, even if it *is* hard for some individuals, and I also think that my job involves stating these things because they matter and are clearly (in my experience) issues that a lot of men run into when they’re dating. So… what was it about me giving this advice that made you want to stop altogether? How can I state my needs when it comes to dating without attracting this kind of feedback?
There was a time where I was also seriously struggling with anxiety and awkwardness in my dating life, including an unbroken string of rejection that lasted two full years. I often had the thought you mentioned of “I’m just too neurodivergent for this, why do I even try?” However, with a great deal of effort and a lot of painful trial and error, I did learn how to significantly improve my communication skills, ask more thoughtful questions, and generally get better at showing interest and holding up my end of the conversation. While I am very proud of this accomplishment for its own sake, my general satisfaction with dating is still underwhelming to say the least. I’ve gone from getting rejected 100% of the time to getting rejected more like 95% of the time, and that seems to be about as good as it gets. Now, I know that the reasons for this have to do with mismatches in chemistry / compatibility / availability which everyone inevitably struggles with, but it still never stops being frustrating. Even after making improvements in all the personal factors you have control over, it turns out that most of the biggest factors affecting potential new connections are fundamentally out of your control. Unfortunately, no matter how many good questions you ask, you’re not going to be able to create chemistry with someone if it’s just not there. Meeting someone that you can actually connect with really is just dumb luck for the most part. This can be a difficult lesson to accept. But the thing is, a 5% success rate is still infinitely better than a 0% success rate. It’s still worthwhile to put in that effort and be the best person you can be, even if it still feels like you’re failing most of the time. It never stops being a struggle, and there is never any guarantee that things will work out for the best, but as long as you don’t give up, there’s at least a chance that you’ll find what you’re looking for.
“most of the biggest factors affecting potential new connections are fundamentally out of your control.” I think this is such a good point and it’s not one that’s made often enough. Connecting with someone is a really personal thing, and often you can do everything ‘right’ and still not get that spark.
And yeah that 100%/95% success thing is important too. I think when we go out into the world with an active desire to date, one of the most important things is to become comfortable with ‘failure’ (however one wants to define that – I think we all have different definitions). I personally fail at dating a lot, because I either meet men who are a bit crap or men who seem amazing then turn out down the line to be appalling for me. But hey, we plough on. One day success might happen, and in the meantime we can just do our best to embark on the journey with kindness, openness, honesty and aim to have a good time along the way.
I think your last line really nails it, thank you.
“It’s still worthwhile to put in that effort and be the best person you can be, even if it still feels like you’re failing most of the time. It never stops being a struggle, and there is never any guarantee that things will work out for the best, but as long as you don’t give up, there’s at least a chance that you’ll find what you’re looking for.”
Hi GotN, I really appreciate you taking the time to read and respond. Sorry for not replying sooner but I’ve needed a while to really think about your question. I can’t speak for anybody else, but for me I think your post mostly just crystalised some things that have been on my mind for a while now. I want to be clear, I thought it was a good post, insightful and very well articulated, and I agree these things matter.
But that’s also the first problem – it was a reminder that some of the things I find nearly impossible are fundamental and obvious and should be straightforward. I guess there’s a hopelessness in the gap between knowing and doing, if that makes sense? You made some very sensible observations/suggestions (not advice) in your reply – not viewing it as a personal failing, practicing, taking the pressure off, putting dating priorities aside, doing things that make me feel good about myself, building confidence, meeting people in other situations – and they’re all things I’m aware of and have done as much as I’m able. I’m firmly middle-aged now, and I’ve been working on this for a long time without any real progress.
I think the other big thing was the point about knowing enough about someone to tell if they’re what you’re looking for, beyond “they make me feel wanted and interesting” (again, a really great point, well made), and feeling like I’m hopelessly far away from that. It’s funny you say I’m self aware as I feel like I have no idea who I am or what I want. Having wants and needs, and these being important, is a very difficult concept for me (and one I’ve again been working on for a long long time). It’s like, even if I did crack the communication side, that’s still only half the puzzle.
Can I ask, what is it about getting “I give up” replies that bothers you? Maybe I’m wrong but I get the impression it’s more than just fatigue at seeing the same thing over and over? I think probably in retrospect it was unfair of me to say “this post makes me want to give up on dating entirely” – more like “this post helped me reflect on some things that have been troubling me, and tbh the conclusions I came to weren’t great, but that’s not the fault of the post”
Thanks for replying! I’ll start with an answer to your question: why does it bother me when I get replies from men saying ‘I give up’? There are a few reasons.
1. I care a lot about what I do – in dating and in writing. And I do my best to give what I think is useful advice, with honesty about my own experience and desires. It’s depressing to hear from men (who, annoyingly, I care a LOT about pleasing) that accurately reporting my lived experience is a reason to give up on women entirely. It’s not necessarily upsetting to think that someone is giving up – people should do what’s right for them – but the causal connection men make between ‘reading my work’ and ‘saying they want to give up on dating’ implies that *I personally* have done something to break their spirit. And… why is that? What is it about my writing that broke someone’s spirit where life experience did not? It feels, honestly, like I’m being given the blame for something that cannot possibly be my fault.
2. It dismisses something that is deeply and powerfully important to me, and appears to frame it as an unreasonable request. I don’t think it’s unreasonable of me to want a partner who is genuinely interested in who I am and what I’ve got to say. When I assert that, and have men reply with ‘I give up!’ it makes me feel like these men believe ‘interest in me as a human being’ is a wildly disproportionate standard for me to hold when I’m dating. And that’s actually quite a rude and hurtful thing to say to someone directly. Can you imagine how it would feel if you were dating a woman, and you said to her ‘I’d really love for you to be interested in the things I talk about’ and she went ‘ugh this is IMPOSSIBLE I give up’? That’s how I feel here.
3. Makes me feel like what men want is for me to shut up and never talk about the things that affect me. You’re always welcome to feel however you want to feel about what I write, but when you comment you’re taking action, and therefore changing the world. The implication of men saying ‘I give up!’ is that they want *me* to do something about their despair. Well… what? What should I do? Should I drop this (in my opinion) pretty basic need, and just accept that I’m never going to date a man who actually cares about me? Should I maintain that need but never speak about it, in case I upset guys who feel they can’t do what I’m asking?
Honestly, this is going to sound a bit blunt and I apologise – I am very tired. You’ve been respectful in your comments, but yeah you’re right that there’s a level of fatigue at getting these ‘I give up’ comments over and over, especially when they don’t often acknowledge that I’m trying to genuinely help. And although I am very sorry that this help isn’t useful for you in particular, I think for the vast vast majority of men I come across when dating, this help would elevate them to a point where they were significantly better than all the rest. Literally a man could write ‘how about you?’ on his palm in biro before a date as a reminder to throw it into the conversation once or twice, and he would be doing better than 80% of the men I have been on dates with throughout my life. As long as he is not an outright sexual predator or wildly incompatible with me for other reasons, ANY man who asks me ANY good questions on a first date is GUARANTEED to get a second.Even if that question is just ‘how about you?’ to throw back one of mine. I think if this is too challenging for anyone, then the problem is much more deep-rooted than can be solved by just reading the ramblings of a girl on the internet, so when people leave these comments I just want to reply with ‘OK… what do you want from me though?’. I can’t personally solve everyone’s individual dating problems, I can only speak honestly to the things that matter to me. And ‘not asking questions’ is one of the (if not THE) most common complaint I hear from other women who date men.
I think it’s a credit to you that you recognise you can’t do this and want to step back until you work out how to make it possible. It’s something that not many men who leave these comments would actually say, and acknowledging it gives you a head start on dudes who haven’t done any introspection about their own wants/needs and what wants/needs in other people they’ll be able to fulfil. But yeah. Hearing this comment a lot is quite tiring. I think it circles a problem that comes up often, which is that men often do not see women as people with our own frustrations and problems and unrequited lusts, but as gatekeepers to the fulfillment of whatever *they* are looking for. My dating posts are framed as useful if and only if they can help men hit the goal of finding a date, their value as a tool for me to express my frustration or discuss my experience or help others feel a little less alone is not seen/acknowledged. The issue becomes centred around individual men’s ability or inability to ask questions, with solutions for that flagged as the number one top priority, rather than focusing on ‘how might my lack of curiosity make women feel?’. I don’t want men to ask me questions so that they can prove themselves, or as a test of their suitability, like passing an exam in order to shag me. I want them to ask me questions because when they don’t I feel miserable and worthless – like I am not interesting or important to anyone, even those who want to fuck me.
That all sounds irreparably negative so let me end on something a little more positive (I hope). In your comment you mention: “I guess there’s a hopelessness in the gap between knowing and doing, if that makes sense?” So it feels hopeless to know that you should ask questions, but be unable to actually do it. I totally get this! But I want to reframe it if I can. Firstly, I think the gap between knowing and doing is like 90% of all problems humans face on a daily basis. I know that my life would be better if I quit drinking so much and went to the gym more – DOING is where I fall down, but at least I know what will help! Likewise dating – there are men walking obliviously about this world with absolutely no idea why their skeezy attitude isn’t getting them laid… they’re way further behind in their journey than anyone who already understands that you have to be respectful if you want a relationship. Etc etc. There are almost infinite examples. You *know* what would help you to make more of an impact on dates, so the challenge just becomes working out *how* to do it in a way that’s comfortable for you. I think that’s actually a pretty positive thing.
Conversely, there is absolutely nothing I can do to affect the way men behave on dates. I can change my own behaviour/approach/appearance as much as I like, but I can’t make men do these things that you say are very basic. You seem depressed about the fact that you can’t do them but you haven’t noticed (? maybe?) that even as you’re berating yourself for not being *able* to do them, a significant number of men are clearly both unable and unwilling to do them. You say these things are ‘fundamental and obvious and straightforward’ and I agree. YET! Most men do not do them at all, which is why I am so grimly bitter about dating. It seems strange to me that your comment is so filled with despair that you can’t do this thing even as I’m telling you with clarity and experience that the vast majority of other men don’t do it either. Maybe you can take some comfort from that? It’s depressing for me though. I’ve been writing this particular piece of advice for years and years and years, and still coming up against this exact same problem – even with men I’ve dated who read my blog! I cannot make them be curious about me. I can’t change their behaviour. My task is just to keep showing up over and over, taking the weight of sadness home with me when it turns out he doesn’t care, or can’t express any care for my thoughts/feelings, and then continuing to do that over and over until I find one who does, or die. Sorry, not that positive in the end. But hopefully more positive for you! As for me, maybe it’s time *I* gave up instead.
Hi GotN,
I’ve been enjoying your writing (and that of your contributors) for a couple of years now – thankyou! – and this post was, as always, a delight to read.
There was one point which particularly resonated with me and, whilst I don’t know if my reading of it has any widespread validity, I thought it pertinent enough to bring it up:
“It turned out this guy had very little experience of relationships (which is, again, fine, and actually if I’m honest quite exciting to me) but something gave me pause. It wasn’t that he couldn’t answer my questions, it’s that the act of asking caused him to shut down. Where before he’d been curious about every aspect of my life, in this huge, significant-to-me area it was almost like he didn’t want to know. He didn’t ask me anything about my past in return, and when I prompted him (“Would you like to hear my potted history?”) he told me I didn’t need to disclose that if I didn’t want to. Which is true and fair but… I wanted to! He didn’t want to hear it though, so fair enough. I didn’t push.”
Speaking as a early-50s male who’s had a very unfulfilling sex life for the vast majority of that time, but for whom sex is an extremely important thing: when I talk with anyone – especially anyone I might have an attraction to – about their past relationships (especially any sexual aspects of such), I get very upset and physically nauseous.
It’s not that I’m a prude, or that I’m being judgemental, or that I’m disgusted by what they tell me – but rather that the contrast between their seemingly active and varied sex life and my own leaves me feeling very cheated. As though there’s a limited amount of sex available in the world, and someone’s stolen my share of it.
Of course, I know this makes no sense – but it’s a deep-rooted emotional response for me, seemingly triggered by real-world experiences only. Whilst I can watch porn as happily as the next person (and probably do so more than the next person…), a couple audibly having sex in the next hotel room will having me sobbing into my pillow.
My reticence to hear someone’s stories about past exploits does not, however, dampen any keenness I might have for the person I’m talking with – just that I don’t want to have a light shone into the gaping hole where my past exploits should have been.
Obviously, this may have nothing to do with the situation you found yourself in with this person – but I thought you should be aware that such responses might have a valid underpinning (IMHO), and it may not be reason in itself to dismiss the relationship.
Keep up the good work!
Oh wow this is such an interesting comment. Thank you so much for joining in, Moisie, I have a lot of thoughts. And those thoughts are going to involve unpacking your comment a bit so I want to say up front that a) I’m v grateful to you for leaving it because it gives me an opportunity to write about something in depth that I have wanted to write about for a while (and which might be addressed in an upcoming post that I have in draft too) and b) your approach and attitude here is quite a common one, so I think it’s important to talk about it.
Firstly, I understand your frustration if you’re a very sexual person but haven’t yet had enough opportunity to explore that. Recognising that is a very good thing, and acknowledging where this issue might get in the way of you making new connections is also broadly positive. However – and this is a really really massive ‘however’ – while your feelings on hearing other people talk about their sex lives are valid, and completely understandable, I absolutely disagree that this ‘may not be a reason in itself to dismiss the relationship.’
In your comment you say that your “reticence to hear someone’s stories about past exploits does not, however, dampen any keenness I might have for the person I’m talking with”. That is not the issue I had with this guy, and it is not what lies at the heart of this particular rejection. I did not say ‘no’ to another date because I thought he wasn’t keen – I said ‘no’ to another date because, despite his keenness, this inability (or lack of desire) to talk about past relationships/sex/experience etc is a dealbreaking issue for me. I am very proud of who I am, what I do, and the life I have led. I like to talk about sex, desire, love, and a core part of this involves sharing past experiences (or, if someone has far fewer experiences, talking about their fantasies and wants and drives etc). When I ask men this question, I am asking it at least in part because I need to find a partner who does *not* feel the way you feel – nauseous, envious, bitter, angry that I have lived the life I have lived.
You say that it ‘may not be a reason to dismiss the relationship’ but it absolutely is – I have decided that this is something that’s important to me, and it doesn’t matter how keen somebody is – if they can’t engage with me on a fun/playful level about sexual desire (which, yes, includes sharing stories about things we’ve done or wanted to do in the past) then they are definitely not right for me. Someone who is ambivalent about it or just unable to talk about this stuff is probably not going to interest me for very long, unless I could persuade them to become more open – and I’m leery of taking on a relationship with any ideas in my head that I could persuade/tempt/change someone in order to better fit them into what I want. More importantly, though, someone who feels *very strongly* that they don’t like my past experience or don’t want to hear about it is potentially dangerous to me. That envy/bitterness/nausea seeps out, and/or can be released in shocking outbursts which leave me feeling shamed for who I am or what I have done. It is extremely bad for my self esteem and mental health to date a man who might feel this way about something so central to who I am. This resentment (because it is resentment, I think, even if you don’t intend it to be) is not something I want any partner to feel towards me. It’s hurtful and damaging. What’s more, getting with someone who doesn’t want me to acknowledge or ever talk about my past sex life (I literally am a sex blogger – this is my job!) means getting with someone who needs me to suppress a very core part of myself in order to ensure their comfort. To make myself smaller. I have spent a lot of time in life trying to make myself smaller for men, and it has not been healthy for me.
Now. I get that you probably don’t intend for these things to be the case, and it’s possible that you could get into a relationship with someone who has a past and – with very careful and gentle work on their part and very determined hard work on yours – become comfortable having conversations that touched on things which currently make you feel ‘nauseous’. But why would – why *should* – someone have to carry that baggage on your behalf? It sounds like it’s very distressing baggage for *you* to carry yourself, you mention weeping when you hear people having sex and feeling ‘very cheated. As though there’s a limited amount of sex available in the world, and someone’s stolen my share of it.’ These are intensely powerful negative emotions, and from reading your comment I get the impression that you know they are quite unusual. They may be *understandable*, but that doesn’t mean that they should just sit there as this big hot rock of resentment in any potential relationship you have, because these intense feelings can and will affect the relationship you have. It is not fair to subject somebody else to these emotions when they haven’t done anything wrong – on the contrary, they’ve lived a life that you would have lived yourself had you had the opportunity.
I’m not saying ‘don’t date or pursue sex’, but I absolutely am going to suggest that dating *while you feel this way* might be causing harm – to yourself, as it triggers so much upset, and to others, as they don’t deserve to be on the receiving end of these strong feelings that they themselves did nothing to cause. Probably annoying of me to suggest this, but have you considered working with a therapist to address some of these feelings? You seem to be living with a disproportionate amount of distress, and a good therapist may be able to help you work through that – not just identifying why it is there, it sounds like you have a handle on that, but helping you to work through to a place of acceptance so that when you meet people in future their past doesn’t instantly trigger this jealousy, but can instead be viewed as an exciting facet of this person which you might get to benefit from if you end up getting naked together. The alternative, I think, is to actively seek out people who also haven’t had much sexual experience, because if I’m being really honest I think it is unfair to subject anyone you might date to these feelings – even if you think you aren’t showing them outright, I would be horrified to find out that someone I was dating felt this way about my sexual experience, especially if they’d hidden that for a significant period of time.
Sorry, long comment. I honestly do think you could benefit from speaking to a professional about this, and I hope that doesn’t come across like I’m being dismissive. Your comment, as I say, speaks to something I have in draft at the moment that I really want to talk about: the idea of ‘settling’ in a relationship or ‘compromising’ on something fundamental, even if that something makes you sad. One of the things I find deeply frustrating about the men I have met in my life so far is that so many of them say they want me, they’re really keen for me, they’re super excited to get a ticket to the GOTN show… but then there are some fairly fundamental things about me that they apparently dislike or don’t get on with or cannot handle on a day-to-day basis. I wish more of the men I dated could be genuinely introspective and emotionally honest about what they want, and rather than saying ‘I don’t like hearing her stories, but I’m really keen to fuck her, so I’ll just pretend I like them until one day I tell her to stop!’ would instead say ‘this girl likes telling stories, and I don’t wanna hear them, so even though I’d like to fuck her it’s probably better if I bow out and let her find someone who can be the listening ear she wants!’. See what I mean? As I said at the start, your approach is quite common in men – they seem to want me regardless of whether I’m right for them/they’re right for me, and their judgment about whether we should have another date comes down to this. They too might dismiss a dislike for my past, or an active disgust about some other aspect of me, because I’m a woman and I’m there and I’ll ‘do’. But that is not what I want, it will never be what I want, and although I realise most of them are doing it because they want to progress – to sex, to a relationship, whatever – I think that this attitude actually *prevents* more sex/relationships than it sparks, because it gets in the way of me finding true connection with someone who is right for me. Not someone who is just tolerating me in the face of negative feelings, but actively enthusiastic about the parts of me that form the foundation of who I am.
Thank you again for commenting. I hope lots of people read your comment, and this reply, because this is really important to me and I would love more people to understand it.
(Sorry – looks like the paragraph breaks didn’t come though – re-posting it again!)
Hi GOTN – gosh, I wasn’t expecting to receive an entire post in response! I know that probably sounds snarky, but I can’t think how else to phrase it – I’m genuinely grateful for you to take the time to respond so thoroughly.
First off: I hear you completely! I didn’t want to make any presumptions about your interaction with this guy, and what is or isn’t a deal-breaker for you. You see that his unwillingness to give you an opportunity to talk about your past – as you so powerfully put it – makes you smaller, and I wouldn’t wish that on *anyone* entering into any relationship which has a chance of being healthy. If I were in his position, I would not have wished that on you, unintentional as it would have been.
Secondly, and whilst trying desperately hard not to mansplain to you on your own blog: speaking for myself, I definitely do not feel ‘nauseous, envious, bitter, angry that I have lived the life I have lived’ towards you. Well probably envious, yes – I’ll concede that – but the other emotions are quite definitely not directed towards *you* (or any other conversational partner here). Of course, I realise that may not be the case for everyone with such feelings.
I do not consider that it’s *you* who has stolen my share of the finite realm of sex, and I don’t harbour resentment to *any* individual about that. Rather, I blame the universe as a whole – as unhealthy and nebulous as that might seem. Likewise I have no resentment to the couple having sex in the hotel room next door – but I’m upset as to why the universe deemed that they should enjoy such pleasures whilst denying me that opportunity.
Of course I know I should try to accept that I must have some agency in this situation myself – though I still find that very hard to swallow. I also know that, being of the demographic I am, I’ve been dealt a jolly reasonable hand of cards in the first place, and that plenty of others have a much tougher time of it than me. For me to complain about it feels so churlish.
But still it stings…
It’s also very easy for to me to be seen to tap out these words and thoughts in a measured context about how I don’t hold these feelings against any individual… but I couldn’t blame an individual for being wary about a future context in which I might be tempted to wield those feelings against them. It definitely wouldn’t be me wielding them – but I can’t blame someone for seeing it as a Big Red Flag in someone they don’t know and trust.
If you don’t mind me asking: have you had balanced conversations with potential partners with limited experience, where they haven’t – for the want of a better word – been intimidated by your past? You said that this guy’s limited experience was quite exciting for you – which suggests it’s something of a rarity; is that fair to say?
And how could I be annoyed that you suggest working with a therapist on this? Some rando posts a comment to your blog, and you respond with genuine care and concern – that’s quite the opposite of annoying.
I have had therapy a couple of times in the last few years and – to be honest, it didn’t really do anything for me. There seemed to be an approach of ‘Oh well, never mind. Perhaps you can do something to take your mind off it… Have considered bird-watching?’ – and this really didn’t help at all. However I do already know that I’m probably due to give therapy another go – fingers crossed for a more powerful outcome this time.
And don’t worry – I’m not dating at the moment anyway, so no concern about any harm caused there. For me, this specific issue is part of a bigger set of feelings and situations – and I know that puts me in a position where I’m not good for anyone else at present. Plus hah! The very thought of me *dating*! Barry’s comments earlier about crippling social anxiety were very apt… for me, ‘dating’ involves a 1-2 year process of getting to know someone sufficiently well for me to be able to speak with them on a personal level, such as a ‘normal’ human might. I’m a perfectly pleasant and amenable person with them until I reach this breakthrough – but I have neither the charisma, the confidence, the good looks, nor the skill to inspire someone to approach *me* for something more personal. A traditional dating scenario is definitely not where I’d shine…
Thanks GOTN – this exchange has given me much food for thought, and I’m glad to have had the chance to do so with you. Sorry for the long reply again – and I’m happy to reply to any other points which might interest you – but I don’t want to hijack this post into a personal therapy session (and I’m probably already too late for that…). In the meantime, I look forward to your finalised posting about ‘settling’, whenever it’s ready for the world!
OK so there are a couple of questions you asked/things you said that I think I should respond to directly, just gonna quickly type those out:
“Secondly, and whilst trying desperately hard not to mansplain to you on your own blog: speaking for myself, I definitely do not feel ‘nauseous, envious, bitter, angry that I have lived the life I have lived’ towards you. ”
Ah yeah I get you – I’m not implying you feel that way *towards me* but you definitely seem to feel that way towards partners who have more sexual experience – that’s essentially what I’m speaking to here. I’m not saying you feel that way about me, I’m saying that if someone was standing in front of me as a potential partner, and *they* felt the way you describe about me, I would run a mile.
“I do not consider that it’s *you* who has stolen my share of the finite realm of sex”
Yep, I get this! Also, I’m annoyed with myself that I didn’t say this beforehand but… sex is not a finite resource, and actually it’s one of those things where the more of us do it, the more people get to do it! I have not just *had* more than an average amount of sex, I have also gifted more than the average amount of sex to the world, and to the partners who got to have it with me. One of the reasons I think that some kind of sexual therapy might be helpful to you is that it could help you to relate better to people who have had a lot of sex, understand where they’re coming from and the ways in which this can be a proper joy that you could revel in rather than resent. For example, one of my ex partners ended up having sex with more people *while he and I were together* than he had before we met. Because he and I were very sexual together, I could show him fun things like threesomes and group sex, and I had the experience to be able to help him navigate that stuff which he would probably not have been able to do without me. I enjoy doing this. Which brings me on to your question:
“If you don’t mind me asking: have you had balanced conversations with potential partners with limited experience, where they haven’t – for the want of a better word – been intimidated by your past? You said that this guy’s limited experience was quite exciting for you – which suggests it’s something of a rarity; is that fair to say?”
Sooooo. Hmm. I don’t think it’s a rarity for me to find someone who is less sexually experienced than I am – I’m a professional sex blogger and I’ve been lucky enough to get to do a lot of the things I want to, and I’m almost relentlessly sexually curious so I’m definitely above average in terms of what I have done. When I say it’s quite exciting for me what I mean is that I really love being able to introduce people to things that they might previously have thought they weren’t ‘allowed’ (for want of a better word) to enjoy. Telling men that not only do I not give a fuck if they watch porn, I’d actually really love it if they could describe the last porn scene they enjoyed while I touch them and think about it. Or telling a guy who’s always wanted to do anal that we can totally try it if he’s up for it, and would *he* like to wear a butt plug, or put it in me? Etc. Sex is my hobby and my joy, so introducing people to parts of it that I think they might love is a pleasure.
You know that scene in Aladdin where he takes Jasmine on the carpet ride and sings ‘I can show you the world…’? That’s how I feel when I meet someone who is sexual but hasn’t had the opportunity to explore yet – I am excited that I get to be the person who takes them by the hand and shows them stuff. helps them to feel more comfortable and confident in their sexual side, and open up about their desires. It’s gorgeous. That’s what I mean by that.
AND SO. When you ask if men are ‘intimidated’ by my sexual experience, I want to sigh a weary sigh. Why is it intimidating? What are they frightened of? Do they want a woman who is going to be instinctively and innately sexual without ever having practiced? I don’t get it. Quite a few men in the past have described me as ‘intimidating’ when I’m actually a relentless people-pleaser: I think sometimes men are scared of women who know themselves and understand what they want. And to be honest in this situation I’m going to say that’s their problem, and something they need to work on. If a man I met today was obviously intimidated by me, I would – again – run a mile. I can’t stress enough just how common it is for men to get with women but want us to be smaller or less. And I do think that in the context we’re discussing – sexual experience – a man who is intimidated by me (as opposed to excited to get a chance to explore sex with someone who’s a fucking GREAT and enthusiastic guide), should bow out and go find someone else. His insecurity is not baggage that I should be responsible for carrying.
Final point, sorry this is getting long again, but if you’ve been to therapy and the therapist has literally said something like ‘Oh well, never mind. Perhaps you can do something to take your mind off it… Have considered bird-watching?’ then i can tell you that is a shit and terrible therapist. A good therapist won’t tell you what to do, and in fact will probably refuse to be drawn under any circumstances on giving you specific advice. And they certainly shouldn’t recommend things to ‘take your mind off it’ because it’s their job to help you explore these feelings and what they mean for you. I’d recommend having a look for psychosexual therapists in your area, find someone with good reviews and/or accreditation with professional bodies. I’m not sure where you’re based but in the UK the UKCP database is a good place to start: https://www.psychotherapy.org.uk/
Anyway. Yes. Best of luck with whatever you decide!
I think you might want to consider how your response reads to someone who has very low self-esteem around their lack of sexual experience. Suggesting that their intense feelings of shame and deprivation about lack of sex makes them ineligible to engage in sexual relationships until they somehow fix this profound pain themselves would seem to just reinforce their despair about being somehow broken and inhuman.
Your attitude towards less experienced partners seems great! But flatly disqualifying this guy from sexual partners with more experience than himself — virtually everyone in his cohort it sounds like — seems like putting him in an even worse bind.
Maybe I’m missing something.
Yes, you are missing something I’m afraid! The thing you are missing is ‘the concept of women as people.’ Allow me to explain.
Firstly, I am not ‘disqualifying’ anyone from sexual partners – I am not the Sexual Welfare Office and sex is not doled out like that. It’s not something that everyone is entitled to, and women are not designated dispensers of it – obliged to ensure that everybody gets their fair share. Sex is something that you do *with* somebody else – it is a shared act, two-way! Cooperative and mutual and consensual. Like friendship. Just as you cannot demand that someone be your friend, so you also cannot demand that somebody fuck you.
What Moisie said is that he literally feels physically sick when talking to people who have more sexual experience than him. They disgust him on some level, and trigger intense feelings of jealousy. I have told him – not unreasonably – not to have sex with people who cause him to feel such extreme things at the moment, but to instead examine and unpack those feelings before inflicting them on an unsuspecting stranger.
It is right and proper to not have sex with people who make you feel irrationally jealous, bitter and angry. On the other side, it is more than reasonable to want the person you’re about to perform really intimate, connected acts with, to not be harbouring feelings of intense disgust.
In order to take issue with what I am saying, you need to believe that it is more important for Moisie to have sex than it is for his partners to be shown the basic respect of not being fucked by someone who finds them disgusting. Is that what you believe? Do you believe that his desire for sex matters more than the basic humanity of the people he wants to do it with?
On top of this pretty grotesque thing, you *also* need to believe that ‘doing a bit of emotional work’ is an entirely unreasonable thing to expect that anyone will do, even when they have identified a serious emotional problem that is getting in the way of them achieving their goal. You need to believe that ‘this man achieving his goal’ matters so much that it erases the need for him to consider the feelings/wants/needs of a sexual partner… yet at the same time, paradoxically, it doesn’t matter enough that he should bother putting in a tiny little bit of work to tackle these feelings. You say ‘fix this profound pain themselves’ but that’s wrong, and a bizarre twist of what I said – I’m not saying ‘fix this yourself’ I’m saying ‘help is available!’.
Him having to put a bit of effort in is (for you, apparently), an unconscionable thing for me to suggest, tantamount to me saying he can never have sex at all. You believe that he should get sex without any work whatsoever, even while feeling visceral and intense disgust towards the people he is trying to have sex with.
Let’s be clear here: women. The women he’s trying to have sex with. Women. I cannot imagine, in a thousand years, that you would have this same response if he was trying to fuck men. I can’t believe you’d have so little empathy for the partners he’s choking down disgust in order to bang if one of those partners was YOU.
And so finally, we get to the question of tone. You have very patronisingly told me that I ‘might want to consider’ how my response reads to someone who has low self-esteem but I have read back my reply and holy shit. I am being infinitely more gentle here than I could (and perhaps should) have been. Because ultimately Moisie is telling me:
Can you imagine how it felt to me to read that comment? Can you imagine how queasy I felt at the idea that perhaps men in my past had felt this about me but pretended they didn’t and then… been inside my body?? I’m sure you can’t, because there’s no evidence in your comment that you can empathise towards women, but I hope others reading it will recognise how profoundly twisted it is that you can empathise with Moisie here but at no point extend the same to me.
My reply warrants more care and compassion? I don’t see how much more I could give, short of giving him my blessing to go fuck women who make him want to puke. Apart from anything else – boring point, but it’s gotta be made – what I said is not only pretty polite, it’s also useful. The pathetic irony of your comment is that the advice I have given Moisie is – more than anything else I can think of – the thing most likely to get him laid. Women he’s trying to fuck will (as potentially evidenced by the literal blog post which sparked this off!) sense that there is something off in his feelings towards them around sex, and they may well probe around this subject – if they find any hint as to his real feelings they will likely run a mile. These feelings are EXACTLY the thing many of us are trying to sniff out so we can reject someone before they have the chance to spill all this unresolved anger and bitterness in our direction! The fact that he has ignored my genuinely useful advice in favour of lying and pretending he’s had therapy (not a single qualified therapist on the planet would respond to his problem the way he claims they have responded to him) is on him, and he doesn’t deserve to be coddled further and told he should continue to pursue sex anyway.
Sex with, let’s not forget, actual human people with their own needs and desires. People who are not responsible for carrying his baggage, ‘fixing’ him, dispensing some owed amount of sexual gratification, or anything else. Women do not owe sex to men who despise us! No matter how much they want it!
I have been incredibly gentle in my chat with Moisie. And more than tolerant, especially given that his reply to me essentially asked: “don’t you think the people you date are on some level disgusted just like I am by the women I meet?” What a hurtful thing to say! That you have chosen to critique my comments but said absolutely nothing about his response to me just hammers home the point that women are not people to you. We do not have our own feelings, which can be hurt. Our own needs, which deserve to be taken into consideration. We are interesting and useful only insofar as we might provide sex, even to men who openly despise us.
I was gentle with Moisie, but I’m not being gentle with you because clearly my gentleness before left room for you to believe that if only you could get me to extend a little *more* compassion and *more* understanding and *more* kindness then I would agree with you. Meanwhile you have shown not a single scrap of understanding or compassion to the women he might want to fuck, or to me. So yeah, as I say, you’re missing the concept that we are people too.
The way so many men do this makes me want to tear off all my skin. I do my best to empathise, and see things from perspectives that aren’t my own, but then comments like this come up and I want to drink acid to burn out any shreds of compassion I might extend in future. Jesus Christ. Give you an inch and you’ll take our fucking humanity.
Some blogs on this site take on a life of their own. This is one of them. Unusually for me – I love the sound of my own voice – I haven’t waded in yet. Also, unusually for me, since I’ve now gone over the top, and am charging into no-mans-land, I’ll keep it brief.
This really picks up on what GOTN has just said about women being human beings.
There is a wide gamut of attitudes which might be described as ‘toxic masculinity’. It goes from the mildly self-pitying entitlement to full-on incel. It largely boils down to the same thing: Treating women not as people but as sex vending machines, as if you tip up with your entry token – a penis and a god-given entitlement to stick it into a woman – then it’s clearly someone else’s (the woman’s) fault if they don’t let you do that.
You are not entitled to have sex with any specific human being any more than you’re entitled to punch someone in the face just because they support Man U. That proposition may seem unfair, on both counts, but it’s true.
Yeah I am with you that I think these attitudes sit on a scale. I have spoken to men (men I have loved and cared for deeply) in the past about the ways in which they conceive of women, and often some of the attitudes there are rooted in similar kinds of misogyny which – if unchecked – goes to similar places as Dan’s, above. I don’t think that all men feel this way, at least I have to approach the world hoping that they don’t, but I do think that more men believe this than would want to admit it. If you see what I mean. There are certain topics on which even men who believe themselves to be good feminists will instinctively take the side of a guy and start to make excuses for him, or extend empathy to come up with explanations why he might be that way, before they will just acknowledge that the way he’s treating women is not actually great.
For example, men who’ll go ‘oh well he’s lonely’ if I tell them about this comment thread. I mean yeah, we can take that as read. But… your instinct there was to empathise with *him*, so I wanna ask why you did that first rather than reaching for empathy for the women he is potentially harming?
This comment is a bit muddled, but I recently heard the phrase ‘gender solidarity’ and it struck me pretty hard. The solidarity that men will extend to other men – even men they do not know and have never met – over the lived experience and opinions and judgment of women – often women they actually know… it’s wild.
A mornings comment long read….
It’s a piece of beauty to have those two commentators side by side. Of that line.
That line that defines where women become vessels for men’s needs. Term vessel chosen consciously because reading those my flex is “go get a fleshlight and leave us alone.
That line where on the other side someone might be frustrated and lonely and respectful of others. Or not.
And to have these comments dissected by gotn. Your analytical depth AND rage is a pleasure to read
You’re right Fajolan. There’s a world of difference between being frustrated + lonely but respectful enough to recognise that it isn’t anyone else’s responsibility to solve that for you, and just expecting women to be the vessels for that loneliness and frustration.
I do have a lot of sympathy for people who long for sex and connection but cannot find it. But seeking sex and connection is something that should only be done when you actually have respect for the people you’re seeking it from. As you say – if you’re just seeing someone else as a vessel for your needs rather than a human with needs and desires of their own… just get a Fleshlight.
Thank you for joining in, I appreciate your kind words always <3
Replying never works for me but completely agree with this from you, GOTN
For example, men who’ll go ‘oh well he’s lonely’ if I tell them about this comment thread. I mean yeah, we can take that as read. But… your instinct there was to empathise with *him*, so I wanna ask why you did that first rather than reaching for empathy for the women he is potentially harming?
This comment is a bit muddled, but I recently heard the phrase ‘gender solidarity’ and it struck me pretty hard. The solidarity that men will extend to other men – even men they do not know and have never met – over the lived experience and opinions and judgment of women – often women they actually know… it’s wild.
Ah yeah sorry about the replies thing – I have no idea why threading doesn’t work in comments here with anyone’s comments other than mine. It’s an annoying tech problem that I’ve not been able to solve =( But thank you PR! I appreciate that!
Hello GOTN
Since your last reply to me (24 November), I hadn’t checked in on this post – but this evening I’ve just been reading through my Mastodon feed (yeah – I’m running a few weeks behind…), and I saw our exchange referenced – which led me back to reading the newer posts on here.
I’ll be honest: I feel really hurt by some of what you’ve written about me here.
I was going to let some of the points you made in your last reply to me pass, despite my disagreement with them – but your subsequent comments really suggest you’re really not familiar with my perspective, and that you’re putting me into a pigeon-hole that isn’t a good fit. I’m writing this reply because I can’t possibly think I’m unique in my position, and I’d like you to be aware that this position exists in the world.
I’m guessing I didn’t effectively communicate what was going on for me in my previous comments – but some of the behaviours you’re ascribing to me couldn’t be further from the truth, and you seem to think I’m saying things which were definitely not what I intended to say.
If I *had* said the things that you say, then I wholeheartedly agree with your position in these recent comments: absolutely I am not owed sex by women – I completely agree with this, and I absolutely do not push myself onto anyone. Unfortunately I’m sure there are men who do have the viewpoint you describe – and what you’ve written speaks to them – but I’m saddened that you mistook me for one of those men from what I have written.
Here are the points where I feel my message has got lost:
> “Ah yeah I get you – I’m not implying you feel that way *towards me* but you definitely seem to feel that way towards partners who have more sexual experience…”
No no no – I do not feel nausea, bitterness, anger, etc towards *any* person in the context we’re talking about. These feelings are all directed at the universe as an abstract whole, at myself, at my past, and at my projected future. They’re a reflection of my *own* experiences (or lack thereof), and they do not stand in judgement of *anyone* else.
> “When you ask if men are ‘intimidated’ by my sexual experience, I want to sigh a weary sigh. Why is it intimidating? What are they frightened of? Do they want a woman who is going to be instinctively and innately sexual without ever having practiced? I don’t get it. Quite a few men in the past have described me as ‘intimidating’ when I’m actually a relentless people-pleaser…”
I appreciate you don’t outright say that I suggested *you* were intimidating. From your writing it definitely sounds like you’re entirely the opposite!
What I was referring to was – I guess – projected insecurity about how a person of limited sexual experience could possibly hope to live up to the presumably mind-blowing highs that you’ve experienced with previous partners; whilst your knowledge and experience would undoubtedly ensure that I had a good time, how could I ensure that I was giving you an equally good time – something which would be soooo important to me?
Yes – of course, I know it’s down to so much more than history and experience – it’s about personal connection, it’s about the moment, it’s about x, y and z. But ‘from the outside looking in’, the sheer statistics aren’t in my favour – and that’s how I wondered if partners were intimidated by your past.
Obviously your point about not being responsible for carrying the baggage of someone else’s insecurity is entirely valid – but it may not be the insecurity that you think it is, and that *may* change how you feel about it.
> “What Moisie said is that he literally feels physically sick when talking to people who have more sexual experience than him. They disgust him on some level…”
(and a number of other lines that follow on from this – but all based on the same premise: that I am ‘choking down disgust in order to bang’, or wanting ‘to go fuck women who make [me] want to puke’)
No. No no no no no.
Sorry – but No.
I’ve touched on this already – but I absolutely do not feel disgusted by people with more sexual experience than me. The nausea I described is entirely separate from *other people*, and is triggered by my own feelings of emptiness inside; of feeling like I have a big hole in my soul which should have been filled with affection and closeness and intimacy and trust.
Do you know the kind of nausea you might feel when you’ve been ill and haven’t eaten for a couple of days, so you feel hungry and hollow inside – but at the same time unable to really face eating anything? That’s the kind of feeling I’m talking about – it’s very different from disgust.
And just like that, my feelings are completely different from being disgusted by someone’s sexual history.
Completely different.
I *absolutely* did not intend to say that I have *any* feelings of disgust.
> “The fact that he has ignored my genuinely useful advice in favour of lying and pretending he’s had therapy (not a single qualified therapist on the planet would respond to his problem the way he claims they have responded to him) is on him…”
I’m sorry?!
Would it help if I gave you the names of the two UKCP-accredited therapists I’ve worked with in the last 5-ish years? Or the details of the three branches of Relate (the last of which I was utterly appalled and let down by the counsellor’s approach) I’ve been to over the past 30+ years, to try and resolve problems in my past relationships?
(I’m not going to give these details, for the record…)
I was paraphrasing about the advice to go bird-watching – but the principle of what was suggested to me was exactly that: rather than focussing on resolving this problem, I should concentrate my life on other pursuits.
So please excuse me if I’m not jumping for joy at the prospect of finding another therapist right now – but I am quite definitely not lying or pretending.
> “I have been incredibly gentle in my chat with Moisie. And more than tolerant, especially given that his reply to me essentially asked: “don’t you think the people you date are on some level disgusted just like I am by the women I meet?” What a hurtful thing to say! ”
I was genuinely grateful for your replies to my posts – I hope that comes across in what I wrote – but this is really not what I intended to say. I’m truly sorry that it was hurtful to you.
I really hope this does not muddy the waters of this exchange any further – though I am *really* worried that my explanations are still not going to land correctly, and I just don’t know what I can do to try and explain anything better. My comments are intended with complete respect to you – but the further and further I read down the replies in this post, the more and more I despaired at how misinterpreted I felt my position was.
Additionally: there’s obviously been anger at the reply from Dan here – but I wonder if his words read differently once you see that I am *not* out in the world, harming women. I do my best to do the opposite of that! Obviously I can’t speak for him – but I don’t see that he was suggesting that I should be misleading potential sexual partners into a harmful situation for them.
Thanks for listening.