I agreed to a horror movie with a man I really like. This would have been a promising development if horror movies didn't give me nightmares. He asked which ones I liked, and I had to admit I generally don't watch them. It was a surprisingly quick way to run out of things to say about a movie I had just volunteered to see.
I'm 29, he's 31, and we'd been on four dates in three weeks. He's funny, thoughtful, and interested enough to ask proper questions. When he says he'll make plans, he actually makes them. I was enjoying getting to know him. Apparently, I had made it considerably harder for him to do the same.
When he asked why I'd agreed to the movie, I laughed and explained that I was open to trying something new. Which was true, as far as it went. But he had noticed a pattern, and unfortunately he had examples.
On our first date, I'd said any restaurant was fine. On the second, I'd agreed to bowling. Only later did I mention that I hadn't bowled since middle school and didn't particularly enjoy it. The previous weekend we'd gone to pub trivia, despite loud, crowded places not usually being my thing. By the time we reached horror movies, my enthusiasm was starting to require footnotes.
He wasn't angry. He seemed confused. He was trying to learn what I liked, he explained, but felt I kept offering the answers I thought he wanted. That hurt more than a complaint about bowling would have. I couldn't dismiss it as him being unfair. He had been asking about me; I had been making sure my answers caused him as little inconvenience as possible.
I hadn't disliked every date. I genuinely enjoyed trivia, and I do want to try things I wouldn't choose myself. But I wasn't taking turns choosing. I never suggested anything. I'd agree before I had even checked whether I wanted to go, as though having a preference might create an administrative problem.
The ridiculous part is that my friends do not know me as a woman without opinions. I can spend twenty minutes debating which bakery makes the best cinnamon rolls. I have favorite movies, odd hobbies, restaurants I love, and places I would happily never visit again. None of this information seemed to be reaching the man I was dating. He had met the version of me who was available for anything, including a film that would keep her awake afterward.
I think I was so worried about seeming difficult or demanding that I'd been concentrating on being easy to date. Meanwhile, he was left trying to find out whether we actually enjoyed the same things. My effort to make everything pleasant had given him very little to work with.
He suggested I plan our next date entirely myself. I thought that was sweet. He wanted me to choose something. There was nothing in what he said to suggest my choice had to be perfect.
And yet I was already anxious about picking something he wouldn't enjoy. The next date was mine to plan, and I was still wondering what he wanted to do.
