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With Jude, I saw the red flags, and realized he wasn’t a person I wanted to move forward with.And even though I wasn’t the one to end things, that realization was golden to me.My “don’t-sleep-with-anyone-else-while-you’re-sleeping-with-me” rule is one of those boundaries, because I’ve learned I fall hard for men after we’ve been intimate, and I don’t like sharing.After Jude, I won’t have regular sleepovers with a dude until he’s earned my trust and the privilege of spending all that time in my space.In the past, I’d rush the boyfriend tag, because it made me feel like he wasn’t going to leave me — and, back then, I .
” I told him that I wasn’t one to rush into things (practice makes perfect, guys), but that I wanted to find someone to build a relationship with. But when you like someone, and your schedules align, and you’re in that beginning flush of a new relationship, and you’re stoked as fuck, then it’s easy to get carried away.
We meet, we have one date, we have another, and by date three, I’m on Airbnb researching cabins for weekend trips upstate and wondering whether or not he’s told his mother about me.
(He hasn’t.)This pace served me well with my three serious boyfriends: one of which was in high school, so it made sense; one who I was friends with for years, so we skipped over the “getting to know you” part; and one who was a lazy, cerebral ass hat who contributed the bare minimum to our relationship, so I made all the decisions.
I was itching to define the relationship, but he didn’t want to, and I wasn’t even sure if I actually wanted this guy to be my boyfriend, which was a weird situation to be in.
Looking back at my dating life through more mature eyes, I can see that my need to slap the label of BF across the forehead of any man I kinda-sorta liked stemmed from a raging case of insecurity.