Dating teengaer and adults

Slowly, but surely you are possessed. You smile only in the way that besotted people can. When you see him, you fervently tuck in your hair behind your ears. He gets to know. He adds you on Facebook. Till, one day you ping and he replies and you talk and talk and talk. You share a Beatles song and he replies with one from the Kinks.

You are in college after all. You hang out at places perfect for broke college kids. One day you talk from sunset to sunrise, and decide that this is meant to be. No one proposes because no one is brave enough to. And then this morphs into a relationship-that-has-no-name. You go to a shady dive for beer with your friends who are also dating but unlike you, mostly fighting and then in the moment, he kisses you.

And you are kissing him. The spell of the Dating era is broken. He finds ways to touch you that you never thought possible. You slink away from your friends more and more. You want to be alone. Every meeting is a notch on your body and his bedpost. You are being consumed. You see sides of him you never thought possible. You knew what period cycles were like, now you know what an Ovulation cycle is. Change like the crisper wind of November blows in. Your discussions on music disappear.

He laughs at your poetry on a good day. On the bad days, he laughs at you. He tries too hard to be boisterous with the other guys when you go to watch him play, till he asks you to stop coming. He is irritated all the time except for when when you are under him. You are irritated when you are.

Until one day, when everything you know and love of him is gone. Your parents change your school. All you do is occasionally look him up on Facebook, till you no longer do. You are busy with the meaningless, universal activity of seeing your phone and not seeing it while the goddamn file you want downloads. You open an app, mistakenly swipe right. Conversation is good, solid, conventional.

It follows predictable patterns. The past is left buried, not to be roused again. You move to WhatsApp. A week later, you are on a date. You slather red lipstick where there was nude skin. You watch a belly protruding under a business suit from writing Legal Drafts instead of kicking a ball. You crib about the weather, the boss, the broker, the maid. You cut through your entree as you notice the exhaustion around his eyes, his human fallibility - every word is dissected.

Value and worth is gauged, potential financial security is expected and mental comparisons with ex - boyfriends have to be voluntarily thrashed. He looks at you the way a man looks at a woman. But you are older now, you are not affected. He is no longer the star you revolve around. You talk of what you do, your friends, and everything else. You insist, he takes it away. You feel that familiar twinge of rage, of a world demeaning you because of your sex.

You smile - Oh! He drops you to your cab. You half-hug and awkward kiss on the cheek. He calls again, persistently. You go out again. You now have the perspective of time. You can compare, see, distill.

Nostalgia is the friend of the adult dating scene. You meet for one last time on the same beach you went out to, 10 years earlier. When you were young - you were wild, full of hope, passion anger and simmering with expectations. You cried when he forgot your birthday. You gave him 16 gifts for his 16th.

When you were young - you blushed for a week when your Professor caught you kissing in an empty corridor; now you keep you legs crossed as if sex is a currency and the love that arousal dispels a veritable commodity. You were in love and dating was a part of it.

You went to love and then to drink. He was in lust and dating was a part of it. Now, you drink and then love. No love, no lust, just a habit born out of repeating the cycle of attraction and rejection. Now, there is the sanctity of the date as much as the dating. You go to experience the movie and the play, not just feel his fingers digging circles into your flesh. Dignity is the objective, not happiness. The dignity of not being left alone, the dignity of being socially roped into a manipulative, ancient rite.

The dignity of not disappointing your parents one more time. You are now conscious of boundaries and conventions. He opens the door, pulls the chair. Then, saying a temporary bye hurt like having your heart cleaved out of your chest.

Now, saying a permanent bye feels like a business - like negotiation. That is the difference between teenage dating and loving while adulting.


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Total 2 comments.
#1 05.11.2018 в 17:49 Gemanda:
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#2 12.11.2018 в 21:02 Mmorpgfocus:
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