Modern Dating 2025 Part 2: Death of the Chill Girl
- Amanda Rakel
- Jul 4
- 6 min read
After a string of disappointing dates earlier this year (see Part 1), I made myself a promise: no more losing confidence over failed dates. And with Prachi’s challenge to use dating as practice for authenticity and voicing my needs, I headed back into the dating pool. Splish, splash.
I’d say I always present my genuine self—what you see is what you get. But I abandon myself on dates when it comes to stating my intentions, setting boundaries, asking for clarity, or calling out mixed signals (creating the perfect storm for my nervous system and emotionally taxing rumination)—all because I fear being seen as “difficult” or “demanding.”
This time, I was determined to nip things in the bud and grant myself peace.
This meant going against everything I knew. Most of us have grown up in a dating culture that rewards the “chill” girl, and if there is one thing I am not, it is chill. I am flexible, warm, accommodating, and patient, but I am intentional. It was time to honour the non-chill girl.
The Courage to Ask For Clarity
So, what did this look like?
If I wanted to see someone again, I said so rather than waiting for him to get back to me. If I liked a guy but he was breadcrumbing me, I called it out or called it off.
There’s a saying: If they like you, you’ll know. If they don’t, you’ll be confused.
In all the instances I asked for clarity, I already had my answer. But I wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt (however silly that may have been), because I preferred a clear no to sitting and distracting myself with Schitt’s Creek, all while hoping every WhatsApp ping was from them... only for it to be the family group chat (no offense).
A couple of guys cancelled on the day of our date. That’s a huge no-go for me. This season, I cancelled one date—because my dog was so ill we thought it was time to say goodbye. Otherwise, the last time I cancelled was back in November 2023 when I had Covid.
Like most people, I am not a fan of first dates. But I always show up—getting cold feet is not a good enough excuse, nor is ditching plans because you feel something more entertaining came up.
Unless there is an emergency, or the person has done something to make you feel unsafe, there is no excuse to cancel. They made time for you, and you need to honour that. It’s called integrity—something many in this world seem to grapple with (romantic or not).
When these men cancelled, old me would have wished them well (because it’s always illness… at one point, it seems we had a male headache epidemic in Zurich) and told them to just let me know when they were feeling better. I’d then spend days anticipating hearing from them.
This time, if there was chemistry, I still wished them well—but gently added that if the connection wasn’t there, I’d rather just know.
My body would always go numb sending those messages, bracing for rejection, but you have to get comfortable with it. And honestly? I always felt a sense of relief after sending it. Either they’d clarify and I’d feel better, or they wouldn’t and I’d have my answer.
Nonetheless, I left the door WIDE open for them to walk out of. I wrote calm messages, void of any bitterness, making it easy to walk away from.
So it was disappointing when they didn’t take the out—only for me to realise I was a placeholder or a plaything, and they just didn’t have the courage to say so.
Other times, if they cancelled and I felt I’d been making all the effort, I simply didn’t respond—I felt I’d already given enough energy… not every conversation deserves closure.
Honouring My Communication Style
One of the first red flags for my nervous system is frugal communication.
Yes, we all live in busy times, but we’re also all mostly around our phones—so if you want to write to someone, you make the effort. I know this from myself. If a man is texting me and I’m not prioritising a reply, I know I’m not interested—here I communicate my disinterest clearly… but gently.
I don’t expect constant messaging—I rarely have something interesting to say every hour—but I appreciate a check-in. Long silences usually mean disinterest, in my experience.
I had a few great conversations about communication styles. I respect when someone says they’re bad at texting—as long as it’s not due to lack of interest, I’m fine. But there has to be follow-through elsewhere—and there wasn’t.
If someone texts me to make plans and the conversation is moving quickly, I’m confused when I’m left on read after I confirm I’m free—especially if you only confirm hours later.
It makes me feel like a placeholder—and that my time doesn’t matter.
That might not sound so bad—but imagine this: someone who says they’re bad at texting reaches out to ask about your plans. You’ve shown grace, not expecting frequent messages, so you’re glad to hear from them. You reply that you’re free—and then… silence. Hours later, they finally confirm plans for the next day. It’s an awful feeling. I would never ask someone what their plans are for the following day, then not respond—I’m mindful that people have a life to live, and waiting on me to confirm plans after I initiated them isn’t cool.
In these cases, my gut screams, “something is off”—and there always is.
In another case, someone suggested meeting over the weekend, but my gut snagged. I didn’t feel confident asking about plans—which told me I didn’t trust his interest. When I finally asked if he was serious about seeing me again, he wasn’t. Once again, “I’m bad at texting” was code for “I’m not interested.”
I don’t always probe. Silence still seems to be the go-to way of expressing disinterest.
Ghosting is alive and well—I had my fair taste of this too.
The Last 30%
Embracing emotional courage over feeding into someone’s games, and calling out low-effort behaviour without drama has been refreshing.
While I’m proud of myself for voicing my needs gracefully (mostly) and asking for clarity early on, one thing is wildly clear: I need to trust my gut much sooner—and quite possibly not give an option to walk out a door. I just need to close it.
I excitedly told Prachi about how I’d gotten better at voicing my concerns and calling out shitty dating behaviour early on instead of being the “nice” girl who doesn’t rock the boat. She was proud of me, and it’s a step in the right direction—but I’m still too nice.
I was gutted I’d reacted like a hothead to a man who, despite knowing I wasn’t looking for casual, was only in it for intimacy. He was not the first one in this series of dates, and my cup did runneth over with patience and grace (he would also be the last date), so I sent some rather sharp words.
Those who have seen the texts say I was within reason, and there was no need to write a graceful apology after. Prachi encouraged me to be a little more cutthroat. My mum told me the hotheaded Amanda suited me.
Prachi has seen me through one hell of a transformation, and as she put it, “this is the last 30%.”
Most of my life, I’ve been bad at standing up for myself, and I tend to excuse too much bad behaviour.
Maybe that’s the next part of the dating chapter: walk away sooner, less grace, more pizzazz.
But, after 24 dates, my nervous system needs a reset, so it’ll be a while before I put myself out there again.
In Part 3, I’ll talk about the emotional toll dates take on you and what I’ve done (or rather, didn’t really do) to protect my peace.
Dear reader, you can now also find me on Substack —the aim is to slowly move content over there, so I'd love it if you would subscribe! 🩷
Comments