It can feel daunting to go on a date. Whether you’re autistic or not, it often requires extreme gumption to go out there and be vulnerable with another human being. Just getting to the point of even just being on a date with somebody can be a Herculean struggle. Given hurdles like figuring out how to ask someone out, whether they’re interested in you in that fashion, deciding on a good place to go one might imagine that actually going through with the date in question would be a breeze. Once you’ve trained for the season, isn’t getting time on the field a much smoother ride?
Unfortunately, things can and sometimes do go badly on dates. Let’s look at just some of the various ways a date can go wrong mentally or physically and some ways to potentially confront these problems. Just because it’s inevitable certain dates will go wrong doesn’t mean there aren’t ways you can take care of yourself when it happens.
Experiencing deep unpleasantness during a date is something that I, unfortunately, personally experienced in the early weeks of 2024.
It was a cool February night and I was going on a third date with a woman who — so far — had made my heart sing. Things were going dandy! Our second date was classically lesbian : we hung out for nearly seven hours. Going into this third date, a dinner rendezvous at Denny's, I was excited to see what our third interaction would hold. Like our previous two dates, we began chatting about weighty issues. We covered everything from mental health problems to disdainful Texas government policies to corporations and everything in between.
The latter topic inspired me to mention my gripes with Netflix executives. As a trans person, I hated how they kept hiring Ricky Gervais and Dave Chappelle to make stand-up specials. Giving those folks money made Netflix's attempts to seem "progressive" for trans folks ring hollow. You can’t say, “Happy Pride Month” and then hand large sacks of money off to folks spouting transphobic rhetoric. For me, it seemed like just another example of how little corporations actually care about marginalized folks. Unbeknownst to me, I had opened up a sore spot in my date. Suddenly, she looked at me quizzically. She opened her mouth. Then, she said just a handful of words that changed everything: “I don’t think Dave Chappelle is transphobic.”
This thought was just the tip of the iceberg. She unfurled a long tangent after that about why she felt Chappelle was in the right for his comments. This included her — a cisgender woman talking to me, a trans woman — saying something like, “Women’s spaces are being invaded by people who used to be men." Hearing those words made me want to slink away like Homer Simpson vanishing into that hedge. All my anxiety-ridden worries about always being seen as “a fraud” in women-dominated confines spewed out of the lips of this person sitting inches away from me. Our time spent cuddling in the booth of a Mexican food eatery just five days earlier now seemed like it was from another life. Who was this person? How could they be so unfeeling?
In the heat of the moment, that complex web of thoughts about the past and present eluded my lips. Instead, I merely rambled out “Well, I personally find Chappelle’s words dehumanizing.” Then I quickly switched the subject. I didn’t think of leaving then and there. I stuck around for the whole date even as an awkward cloud hovered every word we exchanged afterward.
By the time I got home from this date, she had texted me that she just wanted to be friends. Initially, I responded to this with intense sobbing, believing I’d blown my only chance on earth for a romantic connection. This was it. I was sure I would surely never find another person willing to hold my hand or be cozy with me in public. After a few minutes, the calmer side of my brain prevailed. A new perception of this outcome began to blossom, albeit slowly and in a fragmented manner.
I realized I was grateful for this text. I was thinking about continuing to see this woman out of fear that I couldn’t find somebody else. My perception of my self-worth kept me confined to that booth. It also left me initially distraught over losing someone even though she had made so clear she would have been awful for me. I truly didn’t think there was another option for me in the wake of experiencing a toxic date (though certainly not the most toxic date ever conducted in a Denny's).
That’s what this piece is meant to provide. Here, for you, dear autistic readers, is a wake-up call and reminder. You have more options for dealing with toxic events that can transpire during dates than just enduring things.
Among those options is a deeply simple one: you can just leave this date.
Is it rude to abruptly ditch someone? Normally, yes. But if they’re creating an awkward, uncomfortable, unsafe, unhealthy or otherwise toxic environment, you don’t have to stand for that. Traditional ideas about manners can get shelved in this situation. Just say you have to use the bathroom. Take a phone call. Any activity that allows you to easily leave your date. Once you’re out of their line of sight, make a bolt for the exit and never look back.
It might seem shocking or devastating to do at the moment. As autistic folks, we’re often conditioned to minimize our most neurodivergent traits to make ourselves more palatable to neurotypical folks. This condition makes the idea of disturbing another person sound preposterously impossible.
Trust me on this: the world will keep on spinning even if you ditch someone during a date. Your whole life doesn’t have to orient around making other people comfortable. Do not suffocate your own instincts of what makes you comfortable in the interest of not being a burden.
However, as someone lacking personal transportation, I’m keenly aware That it can seem daunting to leave a date midway through. This is why it’s good to prepare beforehand for options regarding potential escape routes. Pick a place for your date, for instance, that’s right near public transportation. That way you have an easy out if a date goes haywire even if you don’t own a car. You might be trapped for a minute, which necessitates other actions. In those cases, try to shift the conversation to new territory. You can even explicitly express that that you’re uncomfortable with your date’s rhetoric
You also don’t have to handle this situation alone, though securing help with your date can be a tricky scenario. Let’s be frank, not every place you go to for a date is going to be full of people willing to help out in a socially awkward or even toxic situation. This, much like the technique involving public transit, requires a little pre-planning. Make sure you’re going to a place populated by waitstaff or other employees that you know or suspect can be helpful in times of distress. You don’t have to know every server or customer service associate personally. But, for instance, a queer , trans or women-owned establishment or just a more queer-friendly environment is likely to have more helpful employees to help in this way than, say, the Denny’s I was in.
Near me in Dallas is a lovely sandwich shop called The Grilled Cheese Co. Inside the women’s restroom is a very helpful sign offering assistance to women in bad social situations at the establishment. The sign reads something to the effect of “Need help getting out of a bad meal encounter? We can help.” This is followed by statements that a server can give to your companion to explain your absence. Not every potential date spot will have such explicit indicators that employees can help you.
However, The Grilled Cheese Co. at Mockingbird station does reflect that some places are just objectively better for dates. They’re cozy and inviting environments if a date goes well. If something goes wrong, though, you know you have resources and people at your disposal to help. Planning ahead of time and doing research on the specifics of your dating spot (even beyond its proximity to public transit) can help so much in the long run.
In any of these situations, a creeping thought may fester. It's a tiny thought, but one that can become inescapable enough to transform into a self-advocacy stumbling block. It's a thought consisting of just five words: “I’m not worthy of that.” That was a thought that dominated my mind during my repellant romantic rendezvous months ago. I perceived myself as being impossible to love. Why shouldn't I should just settle for somebody at least willing to be seen in public with me? It’s so hard to escape the confinement of that mental headspace. Heck, I truly don’t know if I would’ve ever stood up for myself if that woman hadn’t immediately said afterward she wanted to be friends. Maybe I just would’ve put my head down. I would've ignored the advice I've written today in favor of being grateful for the connection, however crummy for me. Surely just blocking my ears whenever she began breaking down the quote-unquote nuances of transphobes couldn't be too strenuous.
But that’s not how it should be. Speaking from my own experience of not standing up for myself, you don’t have to deal with that. You do not have to accept behavior that makes you uncomfortable. You are worthy of being respected, seen and listened to. You are worthy of care and consideration. The world will not collapse if you confront or outright escape a bad date. After all, dates are supposed to be fun! Save your energy and time for the best versions of romantic or sexual outings! They do exist and you’re more than worthy of experiencing them.
