I Want a Boyfriend. I Just Refuse to Go on First Dates.

Eda Dolunay
1 day ago
6 min read

The first date was never the problem. The performance was. How many times can one woman answer, “So… tell me about yourself?” Before she loses her mind?

First dates have always been one of those things that stress me out the most in the world. As much as I love to flirt, meet new people, chat, and hear different opinions, I’ve always hated first dates. At what point did a first date become a networking event with sexual tension? Normally, meeting someone is easy; maybe liking them is, too. But when it comes to a first date, it all becomes incredibly stressful and cringe-worthy. One of the things I see most on social media is, “I want to date my husband, but to find my husband, I have to date.” In my case, it’s: I need to go on a first date. Especially if you haven't chatted enough with the person you're meeting, a first date is like getting a wax. You know it’s going to hurt a little; you just hope it was worth it. A first date is basically a bikini wax for your nervous system. Painful, awkward, and somehow, you paid for the experience. The faster it’s over, the better.

Whoever invented first dates clearly had the same business model as whoever invented waxing: convince people that suffering is just part of becoming lovable.

And the funniest part is this: even if you really like the guy, it’s still very hard to like the first date itself. Because nobody likes getting waxed. People don’t like the wax; they like the feeling afterwards. Maybe first dates are like that, too. What we like isn't the date itself; it’s the story that can develop from it.

Perhaps there is a little discomfort in the first layer of every relationship. That “best version” layer you wear while trying to get to know each other… over time, peels off, and all that’s left is who you really are. But modern dating culture expects two people who don’t know each other at all to feel some “chemistry” in the first 90 minutes. Yet, chemistry isn't always there on the first date, but it may be over the third coffee, in the texts sent on an ordinary Tuesday, or in the moments when you can sit in silence. Or when you are at your most vulnerable.

Personally, I don’t like going on a date with someone I haven’t spoken to for seven business days. Because you don’t get to know a person through their answer to “So… tell me about yourself?”, you get to know them through the text they send on a Tuesday when they’re bored, the things they find funny, or the stories they tell out of the blue. On a first date, people aren’t presenting each other; they’re presenting the most marketable version of themselves. We don't show up to get to know each other; we show up to be chosen. And somewhere between trying to seem interesting, funny, mysterious, and emotionally available, we forget the whole point was to figure out whether we actually like each other.

Which brings me to my completely unscientific theory.

A first date that ends without a kiss usually falls into one of two categories: it either wasn't good enough, or it went on far too long.

Now, before you cancel me, I'm not saying every successful first date has to end with a kiss. I'm saying that if two people have spent hours together, genuinely enjoyed each other's company, and neither of them even wants to kiss the other by the end of the night... chances are they weren't feeling the romance. They were feeling compatibility. And those are not always the same thing. Because attraction rarely leaves the room quietly.

You don't usually spend the subway ride home thinking, "Hmm... let me open Excel and evaluate the chemistry we may or may not have had." You either spend the ride replaying the moment they touched your hand, or you spend it wondering why you agreed to split a tiramisu with a stranger.

If, after three hours, you're still standing on the sidewalk exchanging a polite, "So... this was fun," you probably haven't been on a date. You've just survived a very pleasant business meeting.

At that point, it's no longer romance. It's two candidates who both made it to the final interview, thanked each other for their time, promised to "stay in touch," and are now waiting for someone to send the rejection email first.

A first date that ends without a spark is like getting a painful bikini wax only to realize you still have to go home and shave.

All that anticipation.

All that discomfort.

All that emotional preparation.

And somehow... you're still back where you started.

Congratulations. You're emotionally exhausted, poorer, and still single.

Then there's the other side of it. The entire environment is a performance. Every choice suddenly feels like a personality test disguised as logistics. “Will you come by, or should I pick you up?” “Should we have coffee?” “Should we get dinner?”, “Should we order a cocktail?” Every decision feels like a personality analysis. If you choose coffee, are you too serious? If you choose a cocktail, do you look too flirtatious? Is dinner too ambitious?

A first date is essentially an off-the-record HR interview. The only difference is that this time, both parties are incredibly confused. No one is really thinking, “Do I want to get to know this person?” Everyone is silently chasing the same question: “Did they like me?”

But lately, I’ve noticed something.

The easiest way to drop this performance, and to make the person across from you drop it, too, is to have spontaneous dates.

In my life, I’ve only had one first date where I thought, “I’m so glad I went.” After talking for seven business days, instead of planning a two-hour dinner to get to know each other, we said, “Let’s spend the whole day together.” Exactly 24 hours, because the guy across from me felt the same way about first dates as I did. And neither of us wanted to leave each other without playing all our cards, or rather, without seeing the hand we were left with after playing them.

We started with breakfast. Then coffee. Then lunch. Then a cocktail bar. A Halloween party. And we ended the night eating street food. In short, on one date, I woke up with the guy, had breakfast, saw him get angry when he was hungry, and saw all his habits when drinking alcohol or eating; plus, I knew how he was when partying.

For the first time, I went home with the feeling, “I truly know this person.” Because no one can give a marketing presentation for twenty-four hours.

No one can remain their funniest, smartest, coolest, most mysterious version for a whole day. At some point, the mask slips. You get tired. You get bored. You get hungry. You get quiet. And that is the exact moment you start to see who they really are.

Later, I had a panic attack on a first date with someone I really liked. That day, I realized: it wasn’t the person in front of me that was stressing me out. It was the hours of performance pressure I had put on myself to get ready.

Since that day, I have a small rule. "Are you free in half an hour?" might be the most attractive text message in modern dating. Because in half an hour, no one can reinvent themselves. No one can iron out their personality. No one can spend hours in front of the mirror rehearsing, “What would I look like if I said this?” Everyone is too busy trying to make it on time that they forget to put on their mask. And perhaps that is exactly where real attraction begins.

Maybe I don’t hate first dates. Maybe what I hate is the way two strangers try to impress each other instead of getting to know each other. Because the best relationships don't start between people who give the best presentation; they start between people who you can trip over your words with, who you can change your mind in front of while ordering, who you can sit in silence with, and still feel comfortable. Maybe that’s why I love spontaneous meetings. Because when you don’t have time to get ready, all that’s left is you. And the person across from you, too. No one can play a character for twenty-four hours.

No one can maintain their funniest, most attractive, most mysterious persona forever.

Eventually, they become human. Maybe real intimacy starts at exactly that moment. So, I still hate first dates. I probably always will.

But if one day you text me, “Are you free in half an hour?”, you might just change my mind.

Because I think love reveals itself not in perfectly planned evenings, but in the moments we didn't have time to prepare for. Maybe that's why I've stopped believing in "Tell me about yourself."

If you really want to know someone, ask them if they're free in half an hour. The answer won't tell you much. But the version of them that shows up probably will.