Things I Learned from My Exes, Part V:
I Don't Have to Be Here
by the Dating Diva
March 24, 2001

The relationship may have been a disaster, but the life lessons will stick with you forever. We learn something important from every ex.

I was lying on the beach. Midnight or possibly later. I was there, gloriously, with one of my biggest crushes of all time. Never mind that we were both a little tipsy, that this interlude was more groping less his declaring his undying love for me . . . I, high school junior, was rolling around on the beach with Jonathan, the guy I'd craved all year.

(This had, in fact, been the specific line he'd used to get me to the beach. Though I'd initially demurred from leaving the confines of the party: "Come on -- you've liked me all year." It was true. And so I went.)

So I ended up on the beach, fairly thrilled, despite the small voice which knew I'd more than likely regret this in the morning when he and I would surely go back to being as awkward as we always seemed to be around each other. But in the meantime, I was playing happy-go-lucky girl -- the girl who would at least get a night of affection and attention from Jonathan if I couldn't get the whole package.

We went through a fairly familiar 16-year old courtship ritual. I bravely tried to keep my clothes on -- moving that hand safely back to my neck, surreptitiously rebuttoning my blouse -- while he tried to cajole me into giving him a little more access.

(Thank goodness no one ever teaches teenage boys that the surest way to make a woman relax is to lay off and let her set the pace. It's their very pushiness that gives girls something to resist. And that is what this story is about. Lord knows, if he'd just been sweet and slow he would have reeled me in hook, line and sinker. . . )

The groping culminated with a full-fledged wrestling match. We were laughing a little -- it wasn't as if I ever felt threatened or unsafe -- but he laid down an ultimatum. Grabbing my wrists he said I had to stay there until I . . . actually I can't remember what I was supposed to do, what base I was to round, only that it was something I was unprepared to do.

We started negotiating. He was firm on what I was to do before we'd leave the beach, I tried bargaining. Again, this wasn't done meanly, he wasn't threatening, or overbearing. . . But when you're 16 and female, it's alarmingly easy to get talked into things. You really believe all that stuff: "I chose to come out here with him, I should play along." Or "Hey he's paying attention to me -- the joy of that is worth the price." Or even the insidious: "If I refuse, he's going to be angry."

So we negotiated. And he started to wear me down.

Until, suddenly, I wasn't interested anymore. Out of the blue, something in my brain snapped. I was bored by this and I realized there was nothing keeping me there but myself. There was no way those hands on my wrists were enough to keep me where I didn't want to be. And with that, I twisted up, told him I was leaving, and walked off the beach.

It was a simple moment. But the power it gave was incredible. It is too easy to preach, to tell someone not to stay where they don't want to be, to tell a young woman to just say no, to never go further than feels comfortable. But the reality is that when you're in the heat of the moment there are other forces at work. You think you're being overly-dramatic ("Hey, he was just trying to do what boys DO.") Or you're afraid of insulting him, or seeming prudish, or inexperienced.

Telling someone no, and walking away that first time -- it takes nothing short of a revelation. A revelation that you owe nobody anything, even the guy you like so much you'd do almost anything in the world to make him like you back. In a weird way, I've always been grateful to Jonathan for that moment -- for holding me down in the sand and pushing me too far. I know too many women who had to learn that lesson in much more dire situations.

Having stood up and walked away once, I've been able to do it when necessary ever since. If they're not willing to go at my pace, they're not worth wasting my time on.