First Date Too Late

A few years ago, I made my regular trek to a national coffee chain to enjoy a tall specialty drink and work on my writing. When I entered those doors, I had no idea that my life was about to change forever. On that day, I would become a woman. Sort of.

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I was minding my own business, settling into the worn leather armchair. With cords and papers flying, my usually chaotic state was abruptly interrupted by a guy telling me I had great style. I was a tad dressed up, but still confused about why this rather average looking, average attired dude was commenting on my style. I was still trying to balance my laptop and my caffeine fix when he asked me to take a look at a shoe website on his phone. As I looked over his shoulder it hit me – this man is hitting on me!

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Oh my gosh! It was happening! Just like in my dreams! A mystery man is approaching me in my coffee shop. He’s asking for my number! A couple days later he called, we chatted and he asked me out for an evening of dinner and dancing. Nothing too unusual, right?

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Wrong. You see, at 32 years of age, this was going to be my very first date. Ever. That’s right: In about 15 years of romantic eligibility, I’d never gone on one single date. Not even the ones that are so bad you wish they’d never happened. Nothing.

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Don’t get me wrong. I’ve had crushes over the years, but until then, I guess no one had really seen me as a viable option. Until about a year ago, I was 70 pounds heavier. I was bullied relentlessly in grade school. College was better socially, but still romantically stagnant. The most significant factor is that, beginning at the age of 29, I became a full-time caregiver for my mother when she was diagnosed with frontotemporal degeneration, the most common form of dementia for people under the age of 60. My role as my mother’s caregiver left very little time for socialization, much less cultivating romantic relationships.

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With all of the anxieties of a 13-year-old, I frantically texted my friends, asking them questions about how all of this is supposed to work. I wondered what I should wear, if I should let him kiss me. Initially, I was fearful that I would be viewed as immature for my age, suffering from millennial arrested development.

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Then, about two days before our date, it clicked.

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It is not my job to impress this man.

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Mind blown, right? Every fairytale and every rom-com suggests that women need to impress men with a lethal combination of good looks and infinite knowledge of sports. We are told we need to be damsels in distress who also have it all together. We’re convinced to hide our flaws until we’ve captured the heart of the dim-witted and unsuspecting male. But where in the real world does putting up this fake front actually work?

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So I decided to go into the date with the following principles:

• No, I am not going to wear a dress, just because it’s viewed as more feminine. It’s 30 degrees outside.
• No, I am not going to tell him that it is my first date. What’s the difference?
• Yes, I will use the experiences of my friends and family as cautionary tales.
• Yes, I will demand respect. 

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For the record, the date went okay. Sparks didn’t fly, and quite frankly, I was over it within the first five minutes. But I didn’t let on. I continued to smile and engage, making the most out of a Saturday night. He had a couple of beers, I had ginger ale (which I had the waiter exchange when I left it unattended during a bathroom break). He tried to kiss me, I dodged it, telling him I don’t kiss on first dates. My Lyft arrived, I thanked him for a lovely evening, and headed home.

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I never heard back from him, but I’m okay with that. Not everyone is made for everybody. I may not be his cup of tea and he certainly was not mine. We have different goals and aspirations, and the attraction was one-way.

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Some people may have seen this date as an epic fail, but I didn’t. In fact, I was brimming with pride when I got home because I realized just how strong I am. In the same scenario just a few years ago, I would have tried so hard to be the girl of his dreams that I could have ended up sacrificing some of my dignity. I would not have been my authentic self. But that night, I was able to stick to my convictions without allowing the pressure to seem “super casual and chill” cloud my better judgement. I was able to do me, and make my intentions clear without being mean or rude. I kept myself safe and learned more about my romantic likes and dislikes. I grew as a person.

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Anytime you have an opportunity to grow as a person, I would call that a major success. I am now forty and I’ve had two handfuls of dates since my first. I still have hope I’ll find my person someday if I stick to my principles and prioritize my own wants and needs.

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Aisha Adkins, MPA, CNP is an Atlanta-based family caregiver, founder, writer, thought leader, speaker, and organizer who is passionate about building an equitable, inclusive, and comprehensive public health and care infrastructure using media, storytelling, and culture and policy change. Her versatility has enabled her to publish works both in academic journals and popular publications. She is committed to making an impact across the country for unpaid caregivers of color through her new venture, Caregivers of Color Collective. Learn more at aishaadkins.com.