Please stop reading this now if the thought of me ever having had sex in my life kinda makes you wanna throw up! This includes but is not limited to: my parents, my grandparents, anybody who is related to me by blood or marriage, anybody I have been in a client meeting with, my boyfriends and ex-boyfriends parents and anyone who knew any of my boyfriends as small children. I appreciate your clicks but I need you to think of me as pure and whole. Which I absolutely am. Okay, see you later!!!

Anyway.

This article is to show you that it is normal to go on lots and lots of boring, terrible, average, did-I-just-get-ghosted? dates. Like I may actually be forgetting some of the ones that I’ve gone on because I asked my best friend WHO REMEMBERS EVERYTHING AND HAS KNOWN ME SINCE PUBERTY to list the guys and she had listed some who I straight out DO NOT REMEMBER THE FACE OF EVEN A LITTLE. So. Like. Whatever. To each his own journey. I finally finally found someone who made it all worth it, and now he is my life partner, and it is extremely cool.

There was the guy in college that asked me out to a burger and malt shop on campus, and then um, we ended up getting it to go, which I paid for but details lol, and then we took it to watch him study in the library. I think I slept with him after that which pretty much lets you know where I was at mentally and spiritually circa 21 years of age.

There was a very beautiful man who asked me out after we had a good grind sesh at a German bar. I remember nothing about our date except his very large watch and that I carried our conversation so much I had to go take a ten-minute break in the bathroom and scroll on my phone while I didn’t care whatsoever whether he thought I was doing coke or taking a sh*t. We didn’t have a second date and I don’t think either of us ever texted the other again.

Then there was the guy I thought I fell in love with on a cold dark fall day on some slippery rocks by a large cold lake. I was dating a lovable jock-type when I met him and he gave me Paulo Coelho book and introduced me to Bon Iver. It was like a decade ago you guys give me a f*cking break.

One guy took me for burgers on the back of his moped and I didn’t think it was sexy at all; I was panicking that we were going to die the entire time. He was hot and funny and then he eventually told me he couldn’t get it up for sex because he missed his ex-girlfriend. Perfect! Cool. I at least had the dignity to go sleep on the couch and sneak out the back door to go home 2 hours later.

The only guy I ever asked out (you do not understand how intensely I fear rejection) showed up in dad jeans, dad shoes, and a muted lime green and baby blue plaid shirt untucked. The (coffee) date (my first and last) proceeded in a very interview-format fashion. I’m sure you can guess who asked all the questions and who gave the one-to-ten-word responses. I kept looking at the clock behind his head wondering how many minutes I had to suffer before I could leave without it being obvious how much I wanted to be LITERALLY anywhere else. I said I’d definitely go out with him again. I’ve never not texted somebody back harder. I am an asshole.

There was a first date that was at MY APARTMENT because APPARENTLY, I’m an idiot????????? Don’t do that! Like ever! You probably already know that and I’m just a DUR-DUR-DUR dumbass inviting a man I have only texted into my place of residence.

There was a first date in which we drank too much too late, and I left his apartment to make it to work by 8:00, discovered my car had been towed (at 6:45 in the morning) to which he replied via text, “Damn that sucks.”

There was a guy that thought “first date” meant “bring your friend!” and it was like, very clearly established that it was going to be a date being that we had never f*cking met and were scheduled for 7:00 at a restaurant but hey, whatever!

I dated a guy who, often when visiting my friends who lived upstairs from me in my apartment, would take his shirt off to pay the visit. I have no defense for this.

There are lots of first dates I don’t really remember. Mostly with the men I dated for awhile. Nothing against them there were just more memories with them that took their place. I do remember Erik and I’s first date because I now think love at first “hello” is kind of a thing. That and I um, went up to the wrong guy at the bar (my heart was beating out of my chest and also I suck balls at facial recognition) Oh don’t worry, I sat down and he was like “Are you looking for someone?” and I was like *smile leaves my face very quickly*. And he was very nice and whispered, “He didn’t see you and I think he’s right over there.” COOL COOL COOL COOL COOL. I love to enter dates dripping with confidence. I then proceeded to get pretty drunk, insist on packing a bag to sleepover at his house, and then slept with him on the first date and GUESS WHAT HE STILL ENDED UP BEING MY PERSON.

Because dating rules are bullshit! You can sleep with someone on the first date (if and only if you want to), you can fall in love with someone from the internet, you can ask him/her out first, you can split the first date bill, you don’t need to play “hard to get,” you can speak your feelings – you are not “crazy” for just stating basic human emotions you’re feeling?

Now please tell me about your terrible first dates because I’m winded.

Liz Welle is a professional feelings feeler but gets paid to do social and digital stuff for brands in Minneapolis while occasionally food styling on the side. She lives in Uptown with her boyfriend and their thirteen plants. She is doing her best.