First date. He comes to my apartment for a boxed wine party a deux, his enthusiasm for Franzia leading me to believe this is the exact person I should be dating. And he’s cute. He’s real cute. Over the course of the evening I find out that he’s smart. He’s a self-proclaimed “literature guy.” He’s funny. He reaches over and pushes aside the hair that’s fallen in my eyes while I’m laughing. I like him. And then he says, “There’s something I need to tell you…”
Ahh! Enter the inevitable dealbreaker. (My, don’t you look familiar!) When he then confesses that he “can’t have sex right now,” I breathe a huge (and embarrassingly audible) sigh of relief. I’m thinking, “No big deal! He’s just a hermaphrodite or something! I’ll learn to love it.” But when I ask why, I find out that no, it’s not something simple like a combo of boy and girl parts down there, it’s much more complicated than that. This guy can’t have sex because, well, he’s very religious.
Now don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against those with faith. Sometimes, I wish I had a little more of it myself. But right now, at this juncture in my life, religion isn’t something I can relate to, and because it was such a big part of this guy’s life, I had a strong feeling I wasn’t going to be able to relate to him.
But I’m weak, and looking at his big blue eyes, I heard myself say, “This isn’t a dealbreaker at all!” And then we made out, because apparently recognizing that God is coming between you and your date is a total turn-on.
But awhile later, when the wine-in-a-bag-in-a-box buzz really kicked in, I started to panic and ask A LOT of questions. I found out that if we continued to date, we’d run into some problems. Some examples being:
- He was hoping to one day open up a center of sorts. This was a center I’d likely picket.
- He was opposed to a pill I take regularly, and I ain’t about to pop pills in a dark alley somewhere.
- He didn’t think my best gay had the right to marry. Um, nobody tells my best friend he can’t do what he feels.
It became clear very quickly that there were real, weighty issues at hand, and he and I happened to disagree on every single one of them. In retrospect, I should have recognized the fact that this budding relationship could never go anywhere — hell, it couldn’t even go past third base — but instead, I found myself thinking that if I was as open-minded as I liked to believe, I should be accepting of this guy for who he is. So I continued to see him and, surprisingly, it was fun, albeit a little strange from time to time, but it was interesting. I was curious to see where this would go.
I wish my story ended there, a happy little tale with a “united across religious boundaries”-type message. But it doesn’t. Instead, a few weeks later, this God-loving guy preemptively dumped me, chalking it up to “having to be true to himself.” To make matters worse, he then started dating my best friend’s sister, whom he happened to meet at MY APARTMENT.
So, what’s the moral of this story? I think it goes back to recognizing when someone’s not a good fit for you. I’ll be honest, I didn’t sleep well when he stayed over at my place. Maybe that was due to the fact that I was sexually frustrated. Or maybe, maybe it was my instinct recognizing the huge red flags — hell, these weren’t flags these were FLARES being shot off into the night — signaling that something just wasn’t right. And by GOD, I’ll never overlook that feeling again.