October 20th 2024.
The concept of romantic relationships has always been elusive to me. I remember vividly the first time I shared this sentiment with a guy named Steve on a dating app. His response? "Virgin." It stung, to say the least. Steve proceeded to question the validity of my claim, even going as far as asking for proof through text messages discussing intimate details. His doubt and dismissive words made me cry, not because it made me sad, but because it made me weary. Why does society have such a problem with people who have limited dating experience?
For me, this struggle with relationships stems from a traumatic experience at the age of 16. After the incident, the thought of being with someone else terrified me. I had no desire to find a partner. However, that didn't stop me from having a crush on someone. His name was Sam, and I first saw him at my workplace when I was 16. Despite the trauma I had recently been through, I was immediately drawn to him. Maybe it was his charming tone or the way he made me smile, but whenever I saw him, my stomach would flip. I never told him how I felt, though.
The start of our courtship was difficult. As I entered young adulthood, I realized that my avoidance of relationships wasn't normal. I created profiles on dating apps, hoping to move on with my life. But I never seemed to get anywhere. I believe it was because a stranger online could potentially be just like the man who ruined my life. But when I saw Sam on Tinder in September 2022, I knew I had to swipe right.
From the beginning, I was honest with Sam about my past and my lack of relationship experience. He had no problem with either, but I was still struggling with PTSD. We started off just texting, but I couldn't eat or sleep properly. My therapist explained that it was my body's way of dealing with the repressed trauma. I felt numb and exhausted, as if all my positive emotions had been switched off. So, Sam and I decided to take things slow. I wanted to wait until I felt something towards him before exploring intimacy, which meant we didn't even kiss for weeks. Thankfully, Sam was understanding and willing to wait.
By the time he officially asked me out in October, I was ready to say yes. I felt confident that I could navigate my internal struggles because I knew I wanted to be with him. Sam became my first ever boyfriend, and it was both anxiety-inducing and exciting to finally reach a point of complete happiness and contentment. It was unknown territory for me, but I knew I would be okay because Sam was there.
However, after four months of dating, Sam sat me down in February of last year and said we should split up. I was shocked. I thought we were in a good place, but he explained that he couldn't see us in a long-term relationship. My whole world fell apart at that moment. It was my first-ever breakup, and it was hell. People around me tried to help by saying things like, "it'll get easier!" or "the first breakup is always the worst!" But at the time, it didn't help. Eventually, as they predicted, it did get easier with time. Sam and I still message each other every day, and we now refer to each other as best friends. I can't explain why it works; it just does. I have learned so much from our relationship, and I truly believe that it helped heal me.
The thought of meeting a stranger and starting a new relationship was overwhelming, and the PTSD from my sexual assault came flooding back. But in June, I decided to give dating apps another try. That's when I matched with Steve. Initially, our conversations were good, and he even seemed supportive when I opened up about my past and my limited sexual experience. But as soon as the topic of meeting in person came up, Steve's messages changed. He became fixated on the sexual attraction he felt towards me and started pressuring me to share intimate details and even suggested doing things in his car on our first walk together. I politely declined, but he didn't take no for an answer. Eventually, he resorted to calling me a virgin and questioning my credibility. It was as if all the progress and growth I had gone through didn't matter to him.
Unfortunately, Steve is not the only person I've encountered who has made my lack of relationship experience an issue. I've had other men express concerns that I would constantly compare our relationship to the one I had with Sam or that sexual intimacy would be challenging because of my past. It's frustrating to think that if I had more relationship experience, these issues wouldn't even come up. The double standard is mind-boggling.
Steve's words and actions weighed heavily on me, but I try to remind myself that I'm lucky it happened before I developed strong feelings for him. But it still hurts. I'm 26, and it often feels like I'm a step behind everyone else when it comes to dating and relationships. But navigating the dating world after only being in one relationship is hard enough; we shouldn't be judged for being inexperienced on top of everything else. I don't need someone to make assumptions about me based on my past. I need someone who will listen, communicate, and be kind. And most importantly, I need to remember that not all men will take issue with my limited relationship experience.
In the end, it's important to remember that everyone's journey is different. We shouldn't judge or make assumptions about someone based on their relationship history. We should be understanding and supportive, especially when it comes to sensitive topics like sexual assault. I've learned to be patient with myself and trust that the right person will come along who will accept me for who I am, past and all.
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