Slow the Fuck Down!!

I think everyone is put off by people we perceive as 'moving too fast' in relationships--people who get too attached too quickly, people who say 'I love you!' before you're comfortable with that level of emotional investment, people who talk marriage and children after the second date. It depends on what you, personally, think is an acceptable rate of progression, naturally; but when someone surpasses it, regardless of your criteria, most of us are immediately put off and want to run in fear. It's one of those universally agreed-upon deal-breakers you see across the board in advice on the subject of dating--everything, from 'GQ' to 'Cosmo', whether the target audience is men or women, young or old, agrees that when someone is moving along too fast for you, it's time to break it off.

For me especially, this is a big deal. I have a much more intense negative reaction to this, in no small part because I myself take a very long time to establish those kinds of close emotional bonds with people. 'I love you' is something it takes a while for me to work up to, and while I have no trouble not being the first person to say it, when someone says it too early for my liking my immediate instinctive response is to flee. I very nearly did this with Max; he told me he loved me nearly a year before I went out with him, which frankly scared the shit out of me. But by then (lucky for him--and, it turns out, for me as well) I was attached to him as a friend so I told him that it was inappropriate and made me uncomfortable and he apologized and didn't bring the subject up again until I said it was okay.

Mostly I just think I come pre-wired not to want people who get that attached so quickly. I have never been and especially cuddly person, and, thanks to my upbringing and everything it's done to turn me into a complete emotional clusterfuck, I do not bond with people easily on any level. Establishing a friendship is hard enough for me. Establishing a romantic relationship is extremely difficult and frustrating for everybody involved because it's hard to make progress and regression is much too easy and much to excessive. Fortunately, Boything is as patient as they come. Yay.

But anyway. This is a story about the first time someone creeped me the fuck out by moving way too fast. It's a true story, and to be honest it probably has a bit to do with the fact that I am as wary of fast-movers as I am. The situation made me unbelievably uncomfortable. While I wouldn't like it any more today than I did then, neither would I freak out like I did from this. It put me off of dating, and guys in general, for a few years--mostly because I was young, inexperienced, and neurotic. The memory still makes me cringe.

The summer I was fifteen, I went with my mom and a friend of hers to a public pool in the friend's area. It was too crowded to do any actual swimming unless you wanted to bump into an awful lot of people. There were kids my age hanging out in groups, but nobody I knew and being shy I've never felt comfortable walking up to strangers and saying hello. Especially not strangers in packs. So boredom set in. A guy about a year or two older than me was paddling around and encountering the same no-room-to-swim problem. He was splashing about kind of awkwardly, like he was trying to show off but had nothing to actually show. And he was talking to himself, loudly, in what I assumed was an attempt to invite someone to answer him. It was a bit odd behaviour but didn't stand out. Eventually he stopped trying to swim around and came and sat up on the edge of the pool near me and we started a conversation.

'Tom' introduced himself to me, and straight away did something weird: he took my offered handshake hand and kissed the back of it like we were a Jane Austen adaptation. I pulled my hand away but didn't say anything; I don't even recall THINKING anything except that it was really, really strange. I was probably too shocked to think anything else because how do you anticipate that? We talked about movies and books and video games, and he seemed more than slightly awkward. His tone and manner of speaking, his body language, the way he was trying to maintain eye contact with me but only succeeded in leering, and the fact that he kept scooting much too close to me for comfort all seemed odd but didn't stand out as immediately problematic. After a little while the crowd thinned somewhat and Tom suggested we try swimming again.

I hoped being in the water would keep Tom from getting so close, but he was right back on me. He tried putting his hands on my shoulders and my back and I shook him off. Not knowing how to tell him I was uncomfortable, I asked him what he thought he was doing in hopes that he'd get the hint.

"I want to teach you to swim," Tom said. "So we can swim together."

"But I already know how to swim," I pointed out.

"Oh," he said sadly. "I just really need to hold you. Can I hold your hand so we can swim together?"

Even though I didn't want to, I said yes. (Why, Young!Me? WHY??) He put one arm around my shoulder and held me way, way too close and held my hand in his free one. This lasted all of about twenty seconds before I shook him off, pretending to see something on the bottom of the pool while trying to come up with an excuse to leave. All of this was starting to feel very weird and REALLY uncomfortable for me. I had no reason or obligation to stay or put up with it, and should have left, but I didn't know what to do. I blame being fifteen.

"You know, can I tell you something?" Tom asked.

"What?"

"I think I love you."

Finally my primitive little proto-human teenage brain snapped to attention and I immediately climbed out of the pool with the excuse that I had to go check in with my mom. I had every intention of hiding behind her until we could go home.


Somehow, Tom actually found where we were sitting (it was a really big pool complex so he must have been really searching) and tried to get my attention, walking way close and waving awkwardly right in front of my face. I ignored him, pretending to be engrossed in my book and with a convenient set of headphones. (They weren't plugged in, but he didn't know that. I find earbuds or headphones make a good prop to make people think you don't notice them, assuming you're listening to music and can't hear and are distracted.)


I'm almost completely sure that there was something wrong with Tom. A few years after this, my mom got a job working with kids who have mild to moderate autism; I used to go in every now and then to help out and those kids displayed mannerisms very, very similar to Tom's quirks. It would certainly explain why he acted the way he did and why he was so awkward and inappropriate. It doesn't make the situation any less creepy, however. You'd think his parents and teachers or guardians or someone would try and teach him that he can't say stuff like that to people he's only just met--when you have a kid with special needs, you really do have to accommodate those needs as best as you can. Part of that is learning to live with the various quirks and issues. Part of it also involves teaching them that certain behaviours, however innocent they might think the behaviours to be, are not acceptable. The guy was probably sixteen or seventeen (I didn't find out)--someone should have taught him better.


Oh well. It creeped me out then and is still weird to remember, but I'm not emotionally traumatized from it.


As a postscript: a few more years later, when I was still in my manga phase, I was browsing the shelves at a bookstore. I'm used to occasionally seeing the most radiantly socially inept guys hanging out in the manga/anime/graphic-novel section of bookstores. They don't often know how to strike up conversations so occasionally they will talk to themselves in hopes of enticing me (or another girl in the vicinity) into saying hello first. Sound familiar? So seeing a guy walking the aisles wondering aloud where the series he wanted was... that wasn't unusual. Except it struck a cord in my memory, particularly as I remembered Tom's particular way of doing this. (It involved being very dramatic and saying stuff like, "I'm never swimming underwater again!" and, "There's what I was looking for!!") As well as the sound of his voice.

Despite the fact that, yes, the situation was a very uncomfortable memory for me, I didn't (and still don't) remember exactly what he looked like. He was semi-dark-complected with dark hair and eyes but that's hardly a descriptive memory.

Even so, I was pretty damn sure that this was Tom and my 'flight' response kicked in right then and there.

I didn't buy any books that day.