Ice Queen, Explained.
For some reason, people don’t understand how or why I am not interested in “dating”. I’ve tried to explain this before, but nobody seems to listen to what I’m saying. I think they hear me, but I don’t think they are listening.
I have never been asked out on a date. Ever.
For whatever reason, I am not date-able.
As I’ve mentioned before, I am used to being treated like I don’t exist. That is to say, I recognize that males at large will and do treat me as a body to be used, not a person to be cared about. What passes for “dating” is really just meeting up to have sex. I don’t get asked on dates, but instead just get told they’ll have sex with me. It’s an automatic assumption from the male, “I’m talking to you, so you’re going to put out.”
There is no “me” in the conversation – nothing I say or think or want matters, it’s all about what the male wants. They don’t ask me if I am interested in them. They just say they want sex, and I’m supposed to be impressed or excited or something. I, as a person, am not actually a part of the situation. They point this out by specifying they’d never want to date me or have a relationship with me. They don’t want to be around me as a person, they just want a body to have sex with.
For whatever reason, I’m supposed to go along with this. People tell me I’m supposed to think this is acceptable. I do not think this is acceptable.
When I was young, I thought I just had to put up with it. I thought I had to accept advances from males, no matter what I felt about it. As a result, only one of the twelve males I’ve kissed, had intimacy with, or been raped by was actually attractive to me. That one male was not the same male I married. The one attractive male did treat me like a person. That was nice. We did go on one date, but I was the one who asked him out.
The “first date” with my ex-husband was really just us meeting up somewhere to hang out, because we’d been friends for a couple of years already. I call it a “first date” because he kissed me, so I guess that counts as a date, even though we weren’t actually on a date. He kissed me, so I was just went along with it because at least he was nice to me and at least I was comfortable around him as a person. He asked me to marry him the next time we met up. I said yes because I couldn’t believe someone could ever want to marry me. I realized that would probably be my only chance to have a happy relationship. I tried to make it work. I was married for a quarter of my life to a man whose touch I didn’t want. I tried for seven years to “get into it”, but I eventually realized I couldn’t pretend anymore. So, I stopped allowing it.
For the other ones, though, I just tried to pretend I wanted to be there so they’d enjoy it. Several of them were actually repulsive to me, but who cares? I’m not allowed to think they’re gross; I don’t get to choose. The ones who forced me had an even more pleasurable time because I struggled and objected. Who cares, as long as they got what they wanted? I didn’t matter; this was established on day one.
I have no interest in repeating that kind of encounter or relationship. I have no interest in staring at walls while waiting for someone else to achieve pleasure. I have no interest in feeling disgust for myself after someone has used my body. I have no interest in weeping after sex. I have no interest in being non-existent.
As such, I have not and will not spend any more of my life in those circumstances. That’s it. There’s nothing else to say about it.
Maybe someday, some guy will look at me and see a person worth caring about. Maybe some man will meet me and talk to me and ask me out on a date to get to know me better. I doubt it, though. I fully understand I will probably live the rest of my life dateless and celibate. That’s just the way it is.