My partner and I had an excellent first date. Perfect, in fact – so perfect that I almost declined a second one.
I’d been down that road before. First dates are my jam. My friends sometimes joke about the “Noah Effect,” wherein people whom I’ve barely met become deeply, passionately convinced that I am their perfect lover. Despite (or perhaps because of) my extreme awkwardness and propensity for over-sharing, people keep deciding that they really, really like me after one or two conversations.
“Boo hoo, you’re likable. How is that a problem?”
Being likable is not a problem. Everyone is likable; some of us just make better first impressions. What I’ve realized, however, is that I am compulsively likable. I care deeply about how people – especially romantic prospects – view me, and when I first meet people I cannot stop myself from turning into Fantasy Noah: the version of me that has all of the good stuff and none of the bad. I want so badly to make a good impression that I forget to make a real one.