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I’m 22 and the advent of tinder came just as I turned 18; I was legal and finally accepted into tinder. My high school dating portfolio consisted of boys I met at parties and school. The latter was a small number but I managed. Upon graduating I wanted to live like a big girl, scratch that a woman. I was working full time and attending community college, certainly the app in its hay day would have a wide selection for me to pick from. Turns out I was pretty early, so that whole “looking for people around you” happened more often than not. Of course, my location preferences were set to 7 miles and age ranges pretty restrictive, but hey I’ve learned. My first date in college actually resulted from a ” meet-cute “. The 3-hour evening astronomy class, how romantic huh? It kind of was, there were plenty of attractive men in this class and it just so happened one of them was wearing a purple shirt that day. Some commentary now extinct in my mind led to our exchanging a laugh in class. Then during our 10-minute break he was behind me and I turned around to call him Barney. We parted ways and met back in class where he asked if I would share my snack with him, how very first grade of him. Sharing was caring… at the end of class he made sure to walk out with me and asked me for my name. Trying to be coy I suggested he guess according to a holiday, he never guessed and I let him off the hook. Trying to express my interest I asked about the tattoo on his bicep, to which he responded by telling me I should roll up his sleeves to fully check it out and so I did. I could feel the tension building between us.
And then he asked me if I’d like to grab a bite that weekend, I giggled like a proper schoolgirl and gave him my number. I practically ran to my friends on the other side of campus to scream about the date I had just scored. That very weekend he texted me about hanging out, unfortunately I worked in retail and I had the closing shift, which meant I would be getting out at 10:30pm at the earliest. I knew this time was not appropriate to be conceding to a “first” date but he was so dreamy I couldn’t resist. I still haven’t learned my lesson of waiting, but can you blame a girl? He agreed to meet after work and to even pick me up since I didn’t drive! Upon stepping into his car, he prompted me to get a drink. “Shit” I thought. I never considered that there might be an age difference between us and that he might be 21. “I’m not 21, I’m actually 18… how old are YOU?” “I’m 27.” He calmly responded as I started to freak out a little inside. “I don’t mind though we can just go back to my place.” And with slight hesitation I once again conceded. All I could think during the ride was “wow I’m about to have drinks with a 27-year-old during my first semester of college at his place!” I didn’t know whether to be scared or excited so I was both.
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From our ride, I learned he was a former marine and now being done with his service was going to school, how admirable I thought, he certainly looked the part. A bottle of wine on his deck later and we were venturing into his parents’ living room. Oh yeah, he lived at home. I felt gross having come straight from working 8hours and not having had access to gum or breath mints, I liked to be at my best if I was going to kiss him. (I never quite believed in date number rules for what you could or couldn’t do). Nevertheless, a massage on his bare back accompanied by back and forth flirtation and we decided it was time to get me home. The following week or so were received with silence from the both of us. Until, right before our midterm I realized I’d left my study sheet at home, what a perfect excuse to ask him to save me. A quick exchange of texts and we were meeting up in his car to pick up the study sheet back at his house.
Now in his kitchen reviewing our notes in came a group of teenagers, not much younger than I. His younger sister and friends, they came and went. And when they went he meticulously calculated that we should go “upstairs”. This charming veteran was now seeming a little sketchy, but on I went. In his room now suddenly he was kissing me. His cold tongue tasted of protein shake and there was something sloppy about it. He was moving quickly and this wasn’t going to work out. “I’m not going to do anything, you know, that, right?” “Come on, really.” “Yea…” there was no hesitation in my voice, I had rejected boys my whole career, I knew what I was ready and willing to do. With that he decided we should get going back to school, no complaints from my part and off we were. Sure, the rest of the semester we never quite interacted much again, I guess his ego was hurt. It was the beginning of learning just how little age matters in the maturity of a man, and how dating really is a fast game. 4 years later and somehow, I’m still surprised when men fail to ask me on a date but rather ask to “hang out” and how quickly they are to make their move and even quicker in disappearing. If you’re really interested in my dating older men read here.
From our ride, I learned he was a former marine and now being done with his service was going to school, how admirable I thought, he certainly looked the part. A bottle of wine on his deck later and we were venturing into his parents’ living room. Oh yeah, he lived at home. I felt gross having come straight from working 8hours and not having had access to gum or breath mints, I liked to be at my best if I was going to kiss him. (I never quite believed in date number rules for what you could or couldn’t do). Nevertheless, a massage on his bare back accompanied by back and forth flirtation and we decided it was time to get me home. The following week or so were received with silence from the both of us. Until, right before our midterm I realized I’d left my study sheet at home, what a perfect excuse to ask him to save me. A quick exchange of texts and we were meeting up in his car to pick up the study sheet back at his house.