a bad date and a bad cry (tw)

and my reminder that healing is not a linear journey

TRIGGER WARNING: in this piece, I talk about suicidal ideation, hospitalization, and suicide itself. If you need to step away and skip this one, please do. Some of my other essays are silly, lighthearted, and fun! However, I felt the call to write this today. And maybe it will find the right people who also need a reminder that healing is not a linear journey.

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I am 27-years-old and went on my first bad date last night. Woah, Alexis, BAD opener. We’re not trying to alienate our audience, here. In my defense, I’ve had plenty of terrible experiences dating. I guess I’ve just been lucky (or too picky) with the people I’ve chosen to meet in person from dating apps. There were definitely people that I knew right away weren’t MY person, but in most cases, I was still attracted to them or had a good time at least.

The date that I went on last night was with a guy named Doug. I met Doug on Hinge. I know people love Hinge but I continue to have terrible luck with this app. And we could talk forever about dating apps in general but that’s an entirely different discussion. Just know I hate Hinge.

We matched a few days ago and had some lovely conversations. We have a lot of the same interests and he seemed interested in me as a person and giving me support right at the jump, which not a lot of people do. I thought he was very sweet.

His photos were fine. Like, he wasn’t my usual type. More of a “man” than I’m used to. But honestly, attractiveness for me comes more from someone’s personality, their voice, and their mannerisms than what they look like. I am also historically too nice and will give people chances even when I’m not totally sure, because you never know! People can surprise you.

When we started talking, Doug was on a trip to Vancouver. He got back the day prior to us hanging out and he was exhausted, so we considered waiting until the weekend, but we really wanted to meet each other. So we agreed to meet at a dive bar that I had never been to before (my worst fear) last night for drinks. I put on makeup for the first time in a couple weeks and I was very brave. I hate meeting people in person.

When I walked in and saw him, I knew I wasn’t attracted to him. At all. I even thought maybe the guy glancing at me awkwardly WASN’T him. He wasn’t looking at me confidently enough for me to be sure. So I went to the bar and got a drink.

When I handed my card to the lady she said, “oh we don’t do card, but there’s an ATM over there.” Ugh. This is why I hate going new places when I’m already anxious, I never know what to expect. I didn’t have cash. And I wasn’t about to pay the ATM fee. So I walked up to the guy that I thought might be Doug and said, “are you the person I’m meeting?”

“Maybe. I’m Doug.”

Maybe? What do you mean maybe? Did my beauty in person stun you so bad you were thinking, ‘there’s no way that’s the person I’m on a date with, she’s too beautiful’?

And so I was like, “Alexis, hi. Do you happen to have cash? Can I Venmo you?” and he was hesitant but he got his wallet out. I thought this was odd… I thought this is what people did now. He handed me exactly six dollars. No tip. I felt so bad. I thought about going up to the ATM just to get out twenty and give it to the bartender because I felt so awkward. But I was now locked into this hour-and-a-half date with a guy that I had no interest in.

He asked me what I was drinking and I said, “pineapple cider, what about you?” and he said, “they had a special for a shot and a beer.” This didn’t initially bother me. That’s two drinks, I had one. This was fine.

The first ten minutes were like pulling teeth. I know I’m a great conversationalist, but at some point, if you aren’t asking me questions about me, and you’re just TALKING… I’m not going to put the effort in to engage. He was clearly nervous, which I wasn’t expecting. The nervousness wasn’t consistent with the person I thought I was meeting. But that’s fine, people get nervous. So when he said, “I feel like I’m talking a lot,” I threw him a bone.

“Well then, what do you want to know about me?”

“Hm. I don’t know. A lot, probably. Nothing specifically right now.”

*forehead smack* Bro, be so for real right now. I gave you the opportunity to engage with me and you fumbled the bag.

I asked him, “do you have any good stories? What’s the story you have that you tell at parties?”

He responded, “I don’t have one. I like to just go with the flow.”

Up until then, I was telling myself to keep and open mind and be normal and maybe I’d have fun. I should give him a chance. But that was the moment that my mind was made up. I scrambled for a reason to leave…

And this is why I didn’t. I’m a screenwriter. I’m a storyteller. I love talking to people because sometimes it gives me ideas for stories or characters. So I reminded myself of this. Deep breath. It’s going to be okay. If you’re sure you don’t like him, then get as much content from this situation as you possibly can.

(side note: this is how comedy screenwriting school ruined my brain *awkward smile and thumbs up*)

I wouldn’t say I threw the date away. I asked engaging questions. But he would take a question and just follow it down a path that I couldn’t control.

So in effort to take back the reigns of the conversation, I asked my favorite first date question: “what are your opinions about gun control?”

This is a question I like to ask, because it’s the fastest way I’ve found to understand how compatible my values are with another person’s. By his answer, I knew we had similar values. So that was positive. But then when I was talking about how we need to ban handguns because of suicide rates in the US, he said, “I guess, but there’s always other ways.”

My knee-jerk reaction was, “what?” And he proceeded to tell me about his uncle that hanged himself.

I am a generally open person and so honestly, this didn’t bother me. In fact, if he was willing to tell me, I was willing to listen.

But later in the night, I guess he felt comfortable enough to share with me that he had been twice hospitalized for suicidal ideation himself. This is when my internal dialogue switched to: run, run, run, run, run, run, get out of here NOW.

There’s a reason this was triggering for me. Maybe I’ll tell the story sometime but not today. But, there’s a good reason that I can’t date anyone with that severe of mental health problems anymore.

I wanted to get out but he had just ordered another drink and a shot. This was less fine. I had one drink the whole night. I was driving home so I wasn’t going to have anything other than one can of cider. So not only was I uncomfortable at the conversation topics, there was also an unmatched level of drunkenness, which is never good. If I have one drink, you have two, max. Solidarity, dude.

I waited until I could force myself to physically yawn and used that as my out. I was really tired. And that wasn’t a lie. He said there was no use for him to stay by himself so we left together, which is not really what I wanted.

He walked me to my car and I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t get to my car fast enough. He said, “I’d love to hang out again sometime,” and I responded, “this was fun.” Oof. It felt horrible coming out of my mouth. He told me to text him when I got home, which was kind. I got in my car and I locked the doors. He waved at me awkwardly through my window and I waved back.

I drove home, really upset. More upset than I think I should’ve been. There was something about the whole situation that made me feel icky. And I couldn’t tell what. I did my silly Alexis thing where I blamed it on not being attracted to bald men or the fact that he smelled like CarMex (both of which were true), but it was more than that.

He texted me that he got home safe so I let him know I did too. Then I thought it was only kind enough for me to tell him that I wasn’t interested as quickly as possible. So I sent this text… and this is how he responded:

Any normal person would’ve (and should’ve) immediately ghosted at that point and stopped responding. But who am I if not normal?

I don’t know why I always try to make almost complete strangers feel better. Maybe I feel like I’m good at relating to others? Or maybe I feel better when I can make other people feel better. You know there are no selfless good deeds.

I responded, trying to be kind, but also call him out for not being kind to himself. And listen, I’m no stranger to being mean to myself. But I’m sure as hell not going to burden someone I just met with all of the worst thoughts about myself. The more I tried to help, though, the more he seemed to spiral. I don’t think I helped at all. I tried to relate, I tried to comfort, I tried tough love… nothing worked.

So I started opting for the “it’s not you, it’s me” approach. This wasn’t totally dishonest. I told him that I see myself with someone who is queer, and how I still have complicated emotions about the ending of my last relationship.

And then he sent me the following:

Now, I have a lot of thoughts about this. But the first thing I did upon reading this was start sobbing.

I called my friend and he rightfully talked me through how manipulative this is and told me to block him immediately, which I did. I don’t remember the last time I had to block someone’s number... I honestly don’t know if I ever have.

It took my calming down to understand what was really happening to me. How did this almost-stranger have such control over my emotions? It wasn’t that.

I don’t want to claim to have PTSD, but we all have things that trigger us. Because of my past - and not-so distant past, either - the mere suggestion of someone that I went on a date with threatening to kill themself triggered me.

I still can’t write about it. I can talk about it. But writing something traumatic that happened is completely different. Hopefully someday soon I can write about it. Maybe that’s my next step to healing.

Everything in me instinctually wanted to help. That’s who I am. But realistically, there’s nothing I could’ve said beyond that point. Doug was already in a hole and I couldn’t be the person to pull him out. It killed me to leave it like that but I couldn’t engage anymore for my own mental health.

Whatever happened to him that night is out of my control. All I can do is hope that he realizes that he has to work on himself before trying to involve anyone else. I hope he goes to therapy. Everyone should go to therapy.

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Healing isn’t a linear process. However much I thought I was healed from whatever happened in the past, the feelings came back up when I didn’t expect. And I know that’s okay. But it’s hard not to feel down on myself for feeling like the past is controlling me. I feel stupid that I let Doug, this mere stranger, set me off like that.

I know, I know, “Alexis, you can’t control your feelings!” I wish I could.

So what is there to take away from this? For the Dougs of the world (but a good reminder to all of us), I’d say: think before you speak about potentially triggering topics. You could cause some unnecessary emotional harm to someone else. You don’t know their past. Just a reminder to think before you speak.

Also, don’t burden strangers with the worst thoughts about yourself. I honestly left the date thinking, good guy, not for me. But after that text exchange, I’m left with a worse taste in my mouth.

But for me, this serves as a reminder that it’s okay to not be fully healed. And maybe I never will be completely. But I’m better than I was eleven months ago or six months ago or even three months ago. I just need to keep moving forward and give it time.

That’s such a dumb cliché to end on. Whatever.