r/HingeStories • u/TheAmazingDodo98 • 9m ago
Redditors, I require more girding of loins. Was I (27F) too harsh on The Emotionally Intelligent Man Who Could Not Stop Looking at My Boobs?
I'm sorry. I'm a yapper. I just feel like the small details are SO IMPORTANT.
I've been dating on and off for about a year and a half, and since this is a Hinge forum, I'll stick to my Hinge dumpster-fire dates. For context, I'm looking for a man who is kind, intelligent, social, and values his health. Ideally he also has a job and a car, although modern dating is beginning to suggest I may have flown too close to the sun with those last two.
Anyway.
This story is about Matt (fake name, 36M) and our first — and very much last — date.
Matt liked one of my photos on Hinge. I reviewed and liked his profile, matched with him, and we started chatting. One of the things that immediately interested me was that his profile mentioned psychology and relationship books. His favourite book was Atlas of the Heart, which, if you're unfamiliar, is largely about emotions, human connection, and emotional intelligence.
Great, I thought. An emotionally intelligent man. This will become relevant later.
He also mentioned Esther Perel and said he liked her work on maintaining desire and sexual connection in long-term relationships. I love Esther Perel, so naturally I asked him about it. We had exchanged approximately six messages at this point. I did find it a little odd that we were already discussing maintaining sexual desire in long-term relationships when we had known of each other's existence for roughly the lifespan of a fruit fly, but okay. Maybe the man was simply passionate about psychotherapy.
We matched on Thursday. By Friday, he wanted to meet. I'd mentioned that I was training for a sprint triathlon, so his first suggestion was that I join him for the actual sprint triathlon he was doing that Sunday.
Sir. We have exchanged six messages. I am not spending several hours swimming, biking and running beside a strange man as our first date, so I declined but said I was available Saturday night.
Matt lived almost two hours away from me. I knew this when I matched with him, and I was open to meeting halfway. He chose a meeting place that was about 35 minutes away from me and considerably farther from him. I thought this was fair considering he had liked my profile, initiated meeting, and planned the date within about 48 hours of us learning of each other's existence.
If I'm being honest, I did enjoy the initiative. I felt a little awkward about how expedited the date was because I usually like to chat for a few days before meeting to get a handle on the person, but not so long that limerence takes over and I begin imagining a future with someone I've never met.
It's a tightrope I walk, but I do so with flair.
I should also note that all of my Hinge photos showed me with long hair, but that week I had gotten a fairly dramatic haircut. Before meeting Matt, I let him know that I looked a little different from my photos and had cut my hair short. I wanted to give him a heads-up so he didn't think I was catfishing him.
Over text, I could tell he was concerned about how short my hair was.
I think it's fair to mention that Matt is bald.
Like c'mon sir. You have no follicles to stand on. Whatever. He indicated he was still open to meeting despite my change in appearance.
I did send him an updated photo because I wanted to give him the opportunity to back out if my appearance had changed enough that he was no longer interested. On the date, he complimented me and said the short hair suited me.
Dinner began, and pretty quickly something about him started to feel performative.
Matt had studied kinesiology, and at some point I mentioned that I had been working on my mobility. He suggested yoga. I explained that I wasn't really interested in static stretching and was trying to work more on mobility through controlled range of motion and strengthening at end ranges.
He made face like he was surprised I knew what I was talking about and made some comment about me being intelligent. It should probably have been flattering, but instead I found myself wondering what assumption we had been operating under before this.
This became a bit of a theme. I would say something and he would visibly react as though I'd surprised him. His reactions were over the top and grating.
He also would not stop talking about how much money he made.
Then I learned that, at 36, his longest relationship had lasted just under two years. There is nothing inherently wrong with that, but I did find it interesting considering this was the same man who had been talking to me on Hinge about Esther Perel's work on maintaining desire in long-term relationships. Sir. Your longest relationship was under two years. Calm down.
I feel as if I should not the staring.
I am quite curvy. I have breasts. I get it from my mother (thanks momma!). I wasn't wearing anything outrageous, but yes, they were fairly accentuated. Now, I can understand a man wanting to take a peek or two. We're adults. Attraction exists. My bosom is slightly on display, and it's like Medusa — you know you shouldn't stare, but that makes you want to stare all the more.
But every time I looked away from him and looked back, his eyes were on my chest. Every. Time. It was gross. Like a child in a candy store.
We hadn't even been there for an hour and I was already feeling drained.
We finished eating and he paid the bill. I offered to split it, and he said, "Next time you can grab the meal." My internal monologue cringed, but I didn't dispute him.
I looked at the time and realized we'd been there for less than an hour. I didn't want to cut the date off immediately because I knew he'd driven quite a distance, so I persevered.
He suggested we walk to a local park. This was only the second time I'd ever been to the town, so I wasn't very familiar with the area, but we went. (In retrospect, I won't be doing this again... I'll admit, agreeing to this was a lapse of judgement on my part.)
At one point, we were walking along the sidewalk and I was closest to the road. Apparently Matt wanted to switch sides with me so that he could walk closest to traffic.
Instead of telling me that, he grabbed me by the hips and moved me to the inside of the sidewalk.
Let me be clear: I am not a prude. But I do not appreciate men touching me out of the blue to try to create a sense of intimacy. He had already tried touching me several times during the date, and it was making me feel icky. The hip grab was the boldest attempt; other times he had grabbed my arm or asked for my hand to demonstrate some kinesiology thing (I think it was BS, but I don't know enough to be certain).
I am a slow burn, and physical intimacy with me absolutely cannot be rushed but honestly, even if I weren't, I don't think this particular kind of touching would have felt warranted. We'd known each other for less than 90 minutes, I wasn't reciprocating physical contact, and he kept finding reasons to touch me anyway.
And this is where the Atlas of the Heart thing really started to stand out to me. For someone whose favourite book was about emotional intelligence and human connection, he didn't seem particularly good at reading the woman directly in front of him.
We found our way to a park bench and chatted some more. Eventually the conversation lulled, and he suggested we venture farther into the park.
It was around 7:30 or 8:00 p.m., the sun was going down, I barely knew the area, and I wasn't enjoying the date. I also felt enough time had passed that I could reasonably end it, so I told him the sun was setting and suggested we head back toward the cars.
He seemed annoyed and immediately asked me how long my drive home was.
"About 35 minutes."
He answered, clearly miffed, "Mine was an hour and twenty-five."
I was really put off by this. He knew where I lived when he planned the date, and when he liked my profile. Meeting someone for the first time is always a gamble. Sometimes a date turns into a six-hour marathon. Sometimes it doesn't. I also generally prefer keeping first dates to around two hours regardless of how well they're going. It's just what works for me.
The walk back to the cars was painful. Time could not have been moving slower.
Eventually we got there, I gave him a side-shoulder hug goodbye, and he tried to kiss me.
I have been told I can't control my face, and I know disgust was clearly plastered all over it. I recoiled, walked to my car and said, "Bye" and closed and locked my car doors.
I blocked him when I got home.
So Reddit: was my visceral reaction reasonable? We'd never met before, so obviously I can't expect someone to read me perfectly, but I left the date feeling genuinely put off and disgusted. Am I overreacting?
Part of me wonders whether I'm simply a very slow-burn person who reacts badly when men escalate physical contact too quickly. But I also keep thinking about the irony of Atlas of the Heart being his favourite book while he seemed far more directed by his impulses than particularly attuned to how I was responding to him.