Millennial Agony Aunt: Week 17

Our Millennial Agony Aunt returns with three new quandaries.

van gogh woman walking her dog

Emily Watkins is a professional Millennial (read: precariously employed twenty-something). Each week, she answers three generation-specific queries from the depths of her on-brand existential crisis.

Please send any quandaries, issues, troubles or thoughts to aunt@whynow.co.uk for a good dose of aunt-ing.

I’ve been seeing this guy (kind of my first ‘grown up’ relationship ever) for a few months. We’ve known each other for a couple of years, and I really like him but worry it’s moving too fast. He’s invited me to stay with his family for a week over summer and I don’t know what to do! Is he asking too much or am I being cagey? Is this a red flag, or something normal that I just haven’t experienced yet?

It’s not polite to answer a question with a question, but: are you familiar with the expression context is everything? Because if so, and if you’ve ever wondered ‘what does that mean?’ – well, see above.

The answer to your quandary, which basically boils down to ‘which one of us is being weird?’, will depend on what’s led to this moment. If you’re radiating ‘go-slow’ detachment, for instance, then yeah – sounds like this guy is dreadful at reading the room, he’s misjudged his audience, [insert other euphemism for ‘he’s an insensitive navel gazer’ here]. Read: he’s the one who’s being weird, you’re off the hook, and that Impending Vulnerability Siren was just a false alarm. Phew!

 On a more serious note, and as someone who is paid to read the room – at least, to infer complex relationships from a pretty small amount of info – I’d say you were actually rather keen on this boy. Nervous, sure, but by no means disinterested. In fact, I think you love the idea of making things more official than they are: otherwise, why fear ruining things by rushing them?

If so, then readers won’t have any trouble occupying your head space; I certainly don’t. The dizzy, fizzy ultra-clarity of early romance is blissful, and that’s what makes it frightening. If you feel like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff, that’s because you kind of are – and stepping over the precipice, letting yourself fall, is frightening. Here we are on a cliff face, and you’re clinging to the guide rope. If I’m right, then you’re the intractable one! See? Context.

So. In resolving to stay where it’s safe forever, you’re right that you won’t get hurt – but that comes at a high price, i.e., you won’t feel anything else either. Back to our cliff edge metaphor, this guy is not only entreating you to leap but also promising to catch you when you do; I think that’s about as much insurance as any anti-heartbreak-policy could reasonably offer. 

Go on, jump. Go meet his parents, go stay for a week (NB, this would not be my advice if you hadn’t known each other for years – as it is, I think odds that he’s a serial killer are pretty slim). It could be dreadful, or it could be the start of something totally magic. Life is woven from both such genres of anecdote; the only way to find out which this is destined to be, is to… jump.

I’ve met a guy. In theory, he is perfect – right age, right location, he’s a doctor, funny and pleasant. We’ve been on a few dates and we get on really well except for one problem: I just don’t fancy him. And if I did, life would be so much easier! Am I stupid to hope that attraction will come with time, or should I fess up and throw in the towel now?

I’m torn here, in much the same directions as you seem to be. My first instinct, I’m afraid, is to shake my head dolefully; after all, it doesn’t sound like woodland animals have surrounded you to craft a wedding dress from their forest home, neither can I hear a choir of heavenly angels or even a gospel choir singing Isn’t she lovely? Sure he’s the right age, successful, good company – but you’re hardly describing a Disney meet-cute, are you? What are you, a real person rather than a cartoon character? 

While the honeymoon-head-over-heels phase fades in any romance – only to be replaced with something much more interesting and important, it must be stressed – it’s that initial electricity which lays the groundwork for a lasting partnership. Oh yeah, and that connection has to be instantaneous… right? Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!

What about the slow-burns? The romantic relationships that blossom from friendship (see this week’s first question, from someone who’s known their new squeeze for years)? How about the once-classmates and still-colleagues and those people who always walk their dogs the same route on a Wednesday and exchange friendly nods until one day they’re both sheltering from the same rain under the same tree, get chatting and…? 

None of these premises are even controversial – in fact, they could all be rom coms (story scouts, I’m open to offers if you’d like to start bidding on any of those premises) – and I see no reason that you couldn’t one day look into your doctor pal’s eyes and see, well, more than a pal. All that said, and whether we’re talking instantaneous or long-time-coming, part of how society understands romance does involve it arising organically rather than under duress.

So while you should stay in touch and see if Feelings with a capital F crop up, the one way to make sure you absolutely never fancy this man is to try to *make* yourself fancy him. If you’re already ‘dating’ (i.e., you’ve said that word out loud to each other) it’d be best to realign expectations and drop some tactful hints that you’re not thinking of him as a romantic prospect. ‘Dating’s hard, isn’t it!’; ‘my friend’s set me up with her brother next week’; ‘are you seeing anyone?’; that kind of thing. 

If he throws a tantrum at the idea that his efforts thus far – talking to you, being pleasant, treating you like a person – won’t be rewarded with sex, then you’re well shot of him and you can count your lucky stars. If he is as nice as he seems from your question, I’m predicting more of a ‘ah I see! Cool, thanks for clarifying, see you Friday for dinner’ response – at which point, you’re free to see where your unbiddable feelings take you. 

I’m meeting up with an old friend for the first time in years next week. We fell out of touch after school when we moved away for uni but now we’re both back in our hometown. We bumped into each other at a birthday thing for a mutual friend a month or so ago and agreed to go for a drink. In theory it should be fun to catch up but I’m feeling guilty because I kissed her boyfriend when we were in year 12!

It was nearly five years ago but even though she found out we never talked about it and so I never said sorry… should I bring it up? Do I need to apologise or should I let sleeping dogs lie? PS they’re still together.

Oh, it’s so tempting to leave those little dogs sleeping. Zzzz. Aren’t they precious? But yes, I’m afraid that sooner or later, you’ll have to wake them.

So – it was silly of you to kiss your friend’s boyfriend. On the other hand, you were a teenager, a state of being arguably more chaotic than toddler-dom. The fact you feel guilty, and that you’re writing to me at all, suggests you’re unlikely to make the same mistake again. At least, you see where you went wrong – and truly, there’s no (lasting) harm done, is there? High school indiscretion aside, you trotted off to uni while she-and-him trotted off into the sunset. They’re still together all these years later.

Of course, there’s no guarantee she’ll see it like that. I’d love to hear whether these drinks are an innocent catch-up or a veiled opportunity for her to air a long-nursed grievance (this column not only permits but feverishly encourages follow up emails). But whatever the case, you’ll have to talk about it sooner or later.

If you’re both back in the same town, you’ll likely bump into each other again – and look, you did wrong her (however minor the transgression); so, in the same way as the teenage thing to do was kiss people, consequences be damned, the grown up thing to do is to apologise for it. It’ll be up to her whether the conversation is totally horrid or an earnest-awkward ‘sorry’ from you followed by a lovely evening of catching up about much more important things. 

Worst case (bar a dramatic show down!) is you have to grit your teeth and take a bit of griping. On the other hand, she might not even remember – and if so, cheers to that!


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