Estimated reading time: 16 minutes
Dear Dr. NerdLove:
Things with my (very new) boyfriend are objectively weird, and I’m not sure what to do or feel about it. We’re university students. I’m adult-diagnosed AuDHD, and I have my suspicions that he’s autistic as well, but he’s not diagnosed.
We just now made it official after three-ish months of dating. He’s very introverted, so we see each other once or twice a week, and the contact between dates is nearly nonexistent because he doesn’t really text or use social media. He’s quick to reply if I text him first, but he just doesn’t do much to keep the conversation going. It’s just not his style, I suppose.
Also, we’ve just barely even kissed, and that was pretty awkward. He’s never dated anyone before; I’ve dated a few people in the past, but all of them were the “pursuer”, so I didn’t have to be the one to make any of the scary steps. I’d mostly just freeze up and let it happen – no big trauma or anything, but that’s what I’m used to, and he’s not used to any of it. This is so dumb to ask at my big age, but here’s my big question #1: how do you initiate sexual things when you know you’re both completely terrified of them? How do you make it all “chill” and build flirty chemistry when you’re both scared of that sort of vulnerability and embarrassed/nervous of your lack of capabilities?
He’s *extremely* different from anyone I’ve ever dated before, so all of this took some getting used to. With previous boyfriends, my entire life shifted around them, often to the point of unhealthy codependence. They were my emotional crutch, my constant contact, and my every thought. We were together all the time, daily when possible. I would constantly fantasize about marriage and kids. I was glued to my phone hoping they’d text me every second. But (importantly), I think I was dating for validation and to “fill the boyfriend hole”, as you say, more than for the relationship itself. Ultimately, some subconscious guilt would eat away at me until I ended things because their feelings for me were actually much stronger than how I felt toward them.
This is completely different. I want to be clear that I really, really like him and I feel like we’re a great match. When we see each other, we often spend 6+ hours just sitting around and talking. All of the important things (politics, religion, life goals, mutual interests, etc.) are a match as well, and I find him quite attractive. So, while I don’t feel as strongly, insanely obsessive about the whole thing, I feel so much healthier and more stable in it. I feel like I should be bothered by the slow pace and lack of constant contact, but the truth is, I really value my independence and was completely happy being single. This feels like everything I liked about being single, but… with a boyfriend.
That said (big question #2), is there anything else (beyond #1) I should do to make this relationship more… relationship? I can’t help but feel like this situation is really strange, even though I don’t have a problem with it. We feel like good friends who have mutual crushes right now. How do I make steps to move firmly into the “girlfriend” title I already have?
What Is The Measure of A Mate?
I’m not sure you have a problem, WITMAM, not really. What I think you have a situation that you’re not used to and you don’t know how to react to it.
This is actually shockingly common, especially with people whose relationship histories have been fraught or who are used to relationships where they had to push and push and push in order to get needs met or even acknowledged. When you’re (the general “you”, not you specifically, WITMAM) used to having to continually perform in order to get a hint of attention or affection, a relationship where things are considerably healthier can feel uncomfortable, even scary. It goes against The Order Of Things, and you have all these trained responses that you’ve developed over the years that are suddenly… not necessary. But you’ve spent so long having to build them up that it feels like you’re supposed to be using them and not doing so just feels off somehow. So in a very real way (and please forgive an awkward metaphor) you find yourself feeling like an Australian Shepherd without a job to do.
In your case, you have been used to relationship that were more intense but you were also apparently less invested in. There was a lot of emotion and expectation, where you made them the focal point of your life and – in a real way – gave up a sense of identity and self. And yet, these were relationships that you were more ambivalent about than your behavior would suggest.
Now you have a relationship that takes less of your bandwidth and attention, but one that actually means more to you. It feels weird because it isn’t progressing the way that you’re used to and you’re having to be more proactive than you did previously. It’s less intense and less obsessive, but in ways that are ultimately more relaxed and cozy – in no small part because it feels more secure, I’m sure.
The difference is that your previous relationships sound a lot more like limerence than love – a sort of obsessive crush that focuses on reciprocation and you feel physical symptoms of anxiety (racing heartbeat, butterflies in the stomach, and so on). These crushes tend to be focused more on receiving and are often directed inward, where your crush object’s mood and attention have a direct effect on you and your mood.
Your relationship with your current beau, on the other hand, is focused on your mutual connection and how you both feel when you’re together. It’s calmer. It’s comfortable. It’s stable. That can feel a little odd if you’re used to the constant excitement… and the way that stress can feel like excitement.
To be clear: these are good things. The stability and comfort are often because things are more certain and sure, instead of the uncertainty and constant dopamine peaks and valleys. It feels “off” because you’ve been associating relationships with intense focus and emotional roller coasters, not peace and contentment.
So, in regards to your second question: are you sure you need something to make it feel more “relationship-y”? Are you feeling a true lack, or is it just the difference that’s nagging at you? Perhaps part of the answer would be to decide that this is just what a relationship with this guy feels like – to embrace the difference as the uniqueness and special-ness, rather than to define it by how it’s unlike your past relationships.
Because if I’m being honest: “good friends with mutual crushes” is pretty damn nice.
One thing that I have found to be helpful in relationships is that it’s better to accept someone for who they are and meet them where they are, than to make them into something they aren’t. The same goes for relationships themselves. If you are happy with things, even if it feels differently from previous relationships, then saying “yup, this is how our relationship is” will solve a lot of that anxiety.
The same goes for adapting to your partner. He’s not a prolific texter and tends to not be as much for talking between dates. If this isn’t a problem for you, then just saying “yup, that’s $BOYFRIEND” makes it eaiser, and you can focus on maximizing the time you spend together instead. Or, if you’re hoping for more contact when you aren’t getting together in person, you might find that he does better with phone calls or video calls than texting.
But again: if it’s not actually something you’re missing or finding to be frustrating, then it’s not really a problem so much as just a difference, and that’s ok.
Now for the first question, let me ask you a question: why does it need to be chill? You both know you’re nervous. You both (presumably) want more, but you’re both scared by it. Trying to pretend that you’re not doesn’t serve a point. It certainly won’t give you experience that you don’t have. So why not just own it and just admit to being scared? There’s no shame in it, and speaking it out loud can be a massive relief for the both of you.
I think one of the worst ideas we have when it comes to relationships is that someone needs to be the “more experienced” partner, who can guide the other person into the Ways of Relationshipping. While that can be nice, there’s also nothing wrong with two people resolving to experiment and figure things out together, to see this as something you’re doing as a couple. You’re learning about yourselves and one another, exploring these strange new worlds and bold new experiences. You’re going on an adventure as partners, not as a Virgil to the other’s Dante.
So what I would suggest is that you say “fuck being chill” and embrace the fact that you’re nervous but that you want to do this anyway. Instead of trying to pretend like you’re cool and in control, say “hey, this is a little embarrassing for me to say but I want to do X, but I’m kind of nervous, what about you?” If your boyfriend is just as nervous and anxious as you are, the fact that you’re willing to say so out loud is almost certainly going to come as a relief. Knowing he’s not the only one feeling this, especially if he’s feeling the pressure of “I’m supposed to make a move, but…” is going to feel like taking off a heavy backpack at the end of a very long day.
By accepting and owning the nerves and the worry, you relieve yourselves of the need to pretend you’re not. You don’t have to devote mental energy and bandwidth to masking and instead you can have an open, honest and intimate conversation about what you want, what you need and why you’re afraid. In doing so, you are able to actually have a conversation about how you want to progress and how quickly. This isn’t a race, after all; you don’t need to get to a certain point in order to be “official” or to make your relationship more “real”. If you’re both a bundle of nerves and are worried about how little experience or capability you have, there’s nothing wrong with taking things at a more measured pace that is comfortable for the both of you. And because this is something you’re doing together, there’s far less embarrassment or shame to be had.
Plus, by being vulnerable with one another and treating this as a collaboration, you both create a precedent of having these conversations and talking things through and resolving them together, rather than letting them fester. Trust me: it’s a hell of a lot better to deal with the momentary embarrassment of saying “hey, I would like to do X” than for both of you to be sitting on feelings and worry that could be easily resolved.
Which leads me to my last suggestion, and one I recommend to everyone on the autism spectrum: you’re not neurotypical, so don’t try to date like you are. When you’re trying to navigate a seeming minefield of unspoken desires, unwritten rules and implied meaning, you’re spending energy and adding to your emotional load that ultimately depletes you in other areas. By accepting your divergence and asking for what you need, you not only free up those resources, but you actually get the certainty and clarity you need. The value of that clarity and understanding vastly outweighs the supposed value of being able to pantomime neurotypicality, especially in a romantic relationship.
Yeah, it feels weird, especially since we as a culture tend to be uncomfortable with directly expressing ourselves and our needs. But it only feels weird because you’re unused to it; once you’ve gotten in the habit of asking for clarity or certainty, it becomes a hell of a lot easier. And hey, it creates a permission structure for others to express themselves openly, which makes it easier all around.
So at the end of the day, my advice for you is “fuck being chill, use your words.” If there’s a thing you want or feel is missing in your relationship, ask for it. If you’re uncertain about how someone’s feeling or what they mean, ask them. If you’re nervous, be nervous… but do it anyway.
Good luck.
Dear Dr NerdLove:
I’m currently crushing hard on a good friend of mine, and with that comes all the usual nerves and second-guessing you’d expect (I’m not sure if she likes me back, I’m nervous about ruining our friendship, we live an hour and a half from each other, so on and so forth).
The extra wrinkle in this situation is that she and another friend of mine had a breakup that, as far as I know, was not pretty. For one, that friend’s a pretty decent guy, but he had feelings for someone else and cut it off, after they had already broken up and then gotten back together earlier that year. From what I can tell, it hurt her pretty bad, to the point where I’m honestly unsure to ask as, well, how ready would she actually be to date another friend? They’d been dating since high school and had been good friends before as far as I can tell.
Anyway, I realized a few months after they broke up that I really liked her, and it’s been even longer since as every time I’ve gotten close or felt like now’s the time to ask, I’ve chickened out. Part of it is my own inexperience with relationships/sex (we’re all in our early 20s if this sounds like a young guy overthinking, because it is) and a sort of guilt for being romantically/sexually attracted to a friend of mine. I’ve tried to see if there’s any signs from her end, but at this point my main question would be how to reduce my anxiety about asking her and not come off so tense.
From, An Anxious Friend
My guy, I am going to say this as gently as I can: there comes a point where you need to either shit or get off the can. You’re complicating things because you’re worried about rejection and Making Things Awkward and all you’re doing is making things worse for yourself.
This is what we in the dating advice biz call “analysis paralysis”, where you’re trying to get this perfect outcome while also avoiding any and all potential pitfalls, so that you have zero risk at either end. But the truth of the matter is that there is no perfect scenario, no critical path that you can follow that will eliminate any and all chances that either you’ll get rejected or that you won’t somehow offend or trip over your dick. By trying to find the right or “perfect” way, analyzing all possible signals, trying to figure out the right timing… all of these are just delaying tactics. They’re how you give yourself permission to not do the thing without admitting that you’re just scared of what will happen if you say no. Even when you own that fear, the analysis paralysis keeps you from actually reckoning with it and understanding that the only way forward is through it.
Here’s the thing about fear: it amplifies, it exaggerates and it overstates. You’re imagining all these scenarios where you make a seemingly minor mistake that wrecks everything and the subsequent explosion that cracks the world in half. That’s not really in the cards, despite how it all feels. We may all grown up on the high drama of relationship chess in romcoms, teen dramas unscripted shows like Vanderpump Rules or what-have-you, but the reality of what is likely to happen is far more mundane, even boring. The most likely outcome if she were to reject you is… you get rejected, things are a little tense for a bit, then everyone gets over it and moves on.
The reality of “ruining the friendship” is that it’s hard to ruin friendships. Friendships aren’t made of spun glass, where the slightest touch is likely to shatter it; they tend to be robust and resilient. While every friendship is different, it takes sustained and repeated problems to truly ruin one. If saying “hey, I like being your friend, but I’m attracted to you too and I wonder if you like me that way too” is all it takes to ruin things, then it was already on the verge of falling apart. The way that interest in another person “ruins” a friendship is if that’s all your “friendship” was about in the first place or if you make their lack of reciprocation a problem.
Just as importantly, while it’s understandable that you’re worried about the fact that your friend used to date her, the fact of the matter is that while you may be young, you’re still grown-ass adults. You should know by now that you don’t get to call “dibs” on someone, and the fact that a person had a relationship with them doesn’t grant ownership or controlling interest. While nobody reasonable is going to suggest that there’s NO chance that someone might feel hurt by seeing their ex dating someone they know, that’s ultimately something they have to resolve for themselves. It’s not your responsibility to manage their feelings for them, and they don’t get to use their potential hurt fee-fees to say “you’re not allowed to do this”.
Another thing to realize is that you’re trying to read tea leaves and get answers to questions… but you’re never going to get them the way that you’re going about it. The person who has the answers to all your questions is… your friend. The one you’re reading the tea leaves about. The best way to get those questions answered is to stop guessing and prognosticating and instead just go to the source, which is her.
Which leads me to the last thing to understand: asking someone out is just not that big of a deal. You’re making it into a much bigger issue in your head, which is part of what’s intimidating you. But more than that, by avoiding it or putting it off, you only make it larger, that much more significant and that much more intimidating. You may not realize it, but the more you think about it, the more you plan it and the more you try to critical path it, the more you invest in the outcome, to the point that it becomes this unwieldy thing of dire and terrible significance.
SO the best thing you can do is just cowboy up and ask. As I’ve said before: be nervous but do it anyway.
Now, a thing that can make it easier for both you and your friend is to ask her on a specific date, not a generalized “hey, I like you, do you like me?” It’s easier to say “yes” to an activity at a specific time and on a specific day than to some nebulous concept or vague notion. A date, especially a first date is understood to be a vetting, to see if you both are interested in there being a second date… or more. By asking her on a specific date, you’re saying “would you like to try something and see how we feel”, rather than “lets decide how we feel about each other right now GO.”
It’s also easier to say no to and – importantly – to hear a “no” to. Saying “no” to a date may be also saying “no” to a relationship… but ultimately, it’s easier to take it without making it a referendum on your worth as a person.
So, stop trying to do auguries, swallow your nerves, take a deep breath and say “hey, $FRIEND_NAME, I know we’ve been friends for a while and I really value that, but lately I’ve been feeling something more and I’d like to take you out on a date. Would you be interested in doing $COOL_THING on $DAY_AND_TIME? It’s absolutely fine if you’re not.” Then, step back and let her decide. She may have an immediate answer for you. She may need a bit to think about it. Give her the space to reply and then, whatever reply she gives… take it with grace.
Because here’s the thing about making it awkward: it’s only as awkward as you let it be. The thing people worry about most when a friend asks them out is “what will this mean for our friendship?” By demonstrating that it doesn’t change anything, you help relieve that worry.
So, if she says “no, thank you”, then the best thing you can do is continue as you did before. Don’t pretend like you never asked her out, but rather just take it in stride and continue to be her friend as though nothing has changed. Because nothing has; the status quo is the same as it was before. The only difference is that you got your answer. Now you’re free to stop worrying about this possibility and instead, move forward to meet someone who is interested in a relationship with you.
And if she says yes… well, then you’ll realize you never had anything to be afraid of in the first place.
Good luck.
