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Our first date was for drinks on a Monday night after a workday I had spent trying not to throw up from anxiety.
It would be my first-ever date with a woman, made approximately 10 days after I came out to friends as “not straight, but I’ll get back to you on exactly how much” at the age of 28.
We went out again a few days after that, and the next day, and soon more days than not.
A few months into our relationship, Lydia suggested we look up our compatibility on a website that gives you a relationship prognosis based on you and your partner’s birthdays.“Sure! Unsurprisingly, I was let down by the results, which stated that while my girlfriend and I were romantically compatible and complementary in nearly every category, we weren’t especially well suited to marriage. She had learned a lesson, too; never again would she send me a link to a so-called fun love-forecasting quiz. At every stage of our relationship, Lydia and I have moved forward, and said yes, because we wanted to. Seeking College Students’ Stories As accounts of sexual misconduct continue to dominate the news, a debate has erupted over a particular kind of encounter, one that may not be viewed as sexual assault but which constitutes something murkier than a bad date.
Lydia and I met thanks to a quiz, the multiple-choice Ok Cupid personality assessment, which asks for your thoughts on matters like “Would a nuclear Holocaust be exciting?
” (that’s a “no” from me) and then matches you with those you’re least likely to hate.
Finally in the right dating pool, I used my old friend, the quiz, as a life vest. It was not my longest first date ever but by far my best.
When I saw someone I was drawn to, I did not study our compatibility, seeking out our mismatched traits. And when, after a back-and-forth, she asked me out, I said yes — not because I thought I should, or because doing so was the first step on the correct path forward. And when we said goodbye, tipsy and starving, both of us having been too nervous to acknowledge the human need for nourishment, I didn’t consult the internet about what the next move should be or who should make it. Six excruciating minutes later, she texted me back.
I moved to New York, where I dated one man for a few weeks before he dumped me, and then repeated that scenario with another man.
The older I got, the less confident I felt in how well I knew myself, and the more I looked outward for anything that might provide clues.