First Date

We didn't like each other

When I was quarantining in Kona waiting to see Amit, he texted me, “It’s raining where I am. I wish we were snuggling under a blanket.” I was walking next to a lush golf course lined with palm trees, stepping from shade to shade so I didn’t get sun damage. 

I texted, “whoa.” I felt fear. We barely knew each other. How presumptuous was he to say he wanted to snuggle when this was going to be our first date? 

Amit called me. “What’s going on?”

“I’m scared that you think that because I’m flying all this way from SF to Hawaii to see you, that you’re expecting us to have sex. I’m scared that you’re going to make me do stuff that I don’t want to do.” 

“What? Why is there already drama when we haven’t met?” We had actually met briefly years ago at a sci-fi writing workshop, but we were into other people then.

“I guess I have baggage from previous relationships. I’ve traveled to see guys I was dating and they hurt me. And I thought I had to suffer through it because it wasn’t that bad compared to how some women get abused and have broken bones. I always told myself it wasn’t that bad. I thought that if I was their only source of sex, then I had to do what they wanted. I’m good at disassociating and convincing myself everything is fine. I don’t want to do that again.” 

“You’re worried about nothing. I don’t expect anything.”

“You don’t have to understand. My ask is to not touch me. I’ll let you know if I want to touch. But let me initiate.”

“Fine.” 

He seemed annoyed that I didn’t trust him. But why should I trust him? He’s lucky to live in a world where he doesn’t need to be aware of what some women have dealt with. Should I still go to Kauai? I didn’t know. “I used to be proud of how good I was at sex. I thought being good at sex was part of my value as a girlfriend, that I had to please them or they’d be right to leave me. It’s part of why I let them do things I didn’t want, things that hurt me, gave me UTI’s, big black bruises. I didn’t think about what I wanted. I was proud that every guy I had sex with said I was the best sex they’d ever had.” I tried to lighten the mood. “I don’t want to be like that anymore. If we have sex, I promise you that it’ll be really bad!” 

Amit laughed. “That sounds great.”

Amit had been texting and calling me a lot before this conversation, but after this, we didn’t talk much. I’d ruined the exciting, pre-first-date mood with my fear. We weren’t supposed to get into that stuff until later on. And it probably surprised Amit that I was easily triggered because I seem so strong and cavalier. Well, I have many contrasting personas, some of which are brutal and ruthless and never get hurt, and others which are weepy and needy and scared. I’d never consciously played the scared persona before because I always judged her as weak and useless, but I wanted to let her out now instead of letting her run me unconsciously. I am tough and it is true that I can handle anything and am always fine, and I’m also easily hurt and a scaredy cat, everything together.

A few days later, I met Amit for our first date in Kauai. I put on a baggy sweatshirt. I knew I would still look good, but at least he wouldn’t see my boobs and think I wanted anything to happen. 

When I first saw him, I felt awkward. He hadn’t come to get me from the airport and it had been this ordeal to get to the car I was renting. Why was I putting in so much effort? I should’ve made him come see me in SF instead of coming all this way. I could’ve asked him to pick me up from the airport but I didn’t want to seem like I needed him. I wanted to pretend as much as possible that I was just happening to take this trip to Kauai of my own accord and incidentally going to meet him. I didn’t want either of us to feel obligated to hang out with each other.

I was staying in an airbnb on the beach. It was night. The moon was huge and beautiful. A warm wind swept through the trees. The regular crash of the waves joined the rustling of the huge, dry palms. I sat on the other side of the couch with my legs crossed. I had one of my best friends in SF ready to check on me remotely in case anything happened.

Afterward a stilted conversation, I texted my childhood friend, “Amit’s not the one. But we can be friends, if we want to be.” My founder friend had offered to set me up with this billionaire founder who’d just IPO-ed. A 24 year old at the gym had just asked for my instagram (is that how they did it these days?). Shouldn’t I be dating some super genius professional athlete or something? What was I doing here? I was pathetic coming all this way, desperate for love. Wasn’t I supposed to be happy alone? I saw that I was doing my judging thing, judging and comparing so I don’t have to feel my fears. I decided to try to tone down that persona, the one in me who’s always right and doesn’t trust others, and try to show my nice side. After all, I was stuck in Hawaii for a week and had effectively paid $3K for our first date, so I should make the best of it. If we had been in SF, we never would’ve met again. But because I had trapped myself on an island with him, we were going to see each other again the next day.

The next day, Amit took us for a hike and dinner. I acted normal and did not think about how I’d rather be at home in SF with my cat. After the hike, he put out his hand for a high 5 and I met his hand, even though I was thinking, “I told him not to initiate touch! But I guess I’m choosing to meet him halfway…”

We were waiting for our takeout bibimbap and Amit saw a kombucha shop across the street. We went over and I immediately got burning man vibes. There were dirty, dark, velvety cloths covering the walls, brown jars of warm kombucha everywhere, and old Indian food in platters. This fat, smiley, sweaty man in suspenders came over and said in a cheery British accent, “Want some samples?”

After we tried some watery kombucha, Amit bought some. I could tell he bought it just to be nice. I felt happy in the presence of the crazy, jolly Burning man guy. I felt safe, and something shifted in me. I realized that Amit wasn’t going to hurt me. He wasn’t like the other guys. It would never occur to him to do something I didn’t want. There was no way he’d understand how scared I felt because that world was totally foreign to him. I didn’t need to be scared. I realized I trusted him. Not just logically, but in my body.

When we met up the next day, we sat on Amit’s bed. Amit said, “I want to kiss you.” 

I giggled nervously. “No!”

“How about through this sheet?” Amit flung the sheet over his head and tried to kiss me.

I squirmed away, laughing. “I feel like a ghost is trying to kiss me!”