I didn’t spend my teenage years in love stories or late-night texts. | by narratifa | Oct, 2025

How No Dating During Teenage Years Shaped My Perception and Helped Me Recognize Red Flags in Men

How No Dating During Teenage Years Shaped My Perception and Helped Me Recognize Red Flags in Men

I didn’t spend my teenage years in love stories or late-night texts. Not because I was better, or uninterested, but because I was busy learning about life in quieter ways through responsibilities, books, and long conversations with myself.

Back then, love felt like something far away, something meant for another version of me, one who had more time to feel without breaking. Maybe that’s also why I grew a quiet list of “icks.” I was raised by a mother who found peace in order to be a clean freak who could spot dust the way others spot danger. So I learned early that care is reflected in details:how someone treats their space, how they handle small messes, how they leave things when they think no one’s watching. That subtle sense of order turned into instinct, a quiet standard I carried long before I understood attraction.

During my early twenties, society didn’t really care that I wasn’t dating. Everyone was too busy figuring themselves out chasing dreams, earning degrees, or learning how to stand on their own two feet. But as I reached twenty-five, the narrative quietly shifted. Suddenly, people started to look at me differently as if my lack of a boyfriend was no longer “personal choice” but “something to be concerned about.” They began to say things like, “You’re at the perfect age to marry,”as if timing alone could summon love into existence.I smiled politely, but deep down, I knew I was walking a different path, one where I refused to treat love as a deadline.

The Unlikely Advisor

It’s funny despite never having a boyfriend in high school, people somehow came to me for relationship advice. They told me about their heartbreaks, their partners who changed overnight, their confusion between love and attachment. And every time, I only told them one thing “Communicate.”

Because love isn’t a guessing game. You can’t fix what you refuse to talk about, and silence, no matter how pretty, never saved a relationship. I didn’t have much romantic experience, but I understood that communication was the foundation most people forgot to build.

Learning Without The Wound

In my twenties, when I finally opened myself to the idea of love, I came equipped. Not perfectly but consciously. I could sense emotional manipulation the same way a trained musician hears a wrong note. I could tell when someone’s “care” was really surveillance, when compliments were bait, when “I just want to protect you” meant “I want to control you.” I’ve seen enough stories of friends’ heartbreaks, movies, and real-life dramas to recognize a pattern before it repeats. And maybe that’s what teenage solitude gave me a chance to build emotional intelligence before emotional attachment.

Meanwhile, I have a friend who’s still stuck on her middle-school ex. She’s twenty-two now, but the relationship ended back in ninth grade, second semester. She talks about him as if they broke up last week. Sometimes I wonder if loving too early leaves a scar that time doesn’t know how to erase.

The First Born Lens

As the eldest child, I was raised to hold myself together. Responsibility came before romance, and stability came before sparks. At times, that made me feel detached, like I was always the one who had to think, not feel. Over time, I developed my own quiet standards, a sense of care that shows in small things.

When I see a man carelessly tossing things around, leaving crumbs on the table, or dismissing small acts of respect, something inside me quietly folds back. It’s not about perfection, it’s about care. Because the way someone treats their space often mirrors how they’ll treat your peace.

But in hindsight, all of this, being the eldest, growing up around order and responsibility, carved clarity in me. It taught me to separate love from dependency, attention from sincerity, and presence from possession. I used to think I was late to everything, love, dating, affection. Turns out, I was right on time for understanding. I have a friend who’s the same. Some might call us “losers,” but where I come from, it’s really no big deal to not have a boyfriend. In fact, with so many cases of young pregnancies around, I think we’re just taking our time, and that’s okay.

The Silence That Observe

When you’re not directly involved, you see clearer. I watched my friends fall in love recklessly, lose themselves in validation, and mistake obsession for affection. Back then, I thought I was missing out. Now, I realize I was collecting data silently, patiently. That quiet teenage version of me learned to read subtle gestures how some men apologize without meaning it, how some words sound sweet but smell like control, how absence of empathy hides behind exaggerated charm. By not dating early, I learned the anatomy of a red flag without ever bleeding from one.

The Icks I Found in Men

There are patterns I can’t unsee anymore. Small details that tell bigger stories.

1. The smoker. I live in Indonesia, where only about five percent of men don’t smoke, and the rest are heavy smokers. When I say heavy, I mean more than one pack a day. And yes, that includes vaping. To me, vapes smell awful, like burnt candy and chicken poop combined. It’s not just about health; it’s about self-control and awareness of how your habits affect others.
2. Men who don’t know how to clean themselves. Hygiene is not optional. If I can see dirt under your nails or smell your laziness, that’s not manly, that’s just careless.
3. Men who don’t know where things belong. Losing everything, misplacing stuff, or relying on others to find it for you shows more than just disorganization it shows lack of respect for shared space.
4. Those who spit their saliva in public, anywhere, anytime. There’s something primitive about it that kills all traces of attraction.
5. Men who can’t cook and expect women to do it for them. Personally, I can cook, but I believe everyone should learn, even the simplest dish. Unless you’re a billionaire who eats out daily, cooking is a life skill, not a gender role.
6. Grown men who say, “You remind me of my mom,” or “I want someone like my mom.” Boy, if you want someone to take care of you like your mother, then marry your mom. I can nurture, but I won’t raise a man I’m supposed to love.
7. Cheaters. This one’s obvious. I don’t give second chances because cheaters rarely change, they just get better at hiding.
8. Gamblers. Wasting money on something that feeds on false hope is not risk-taking, it’s irresponsibility. Only lazy people believe luck will do the work discipline won’t.
9. Men in their twenties who are attracted to girls under nineteen. It’s not romantic, it’s exploitative. Emotional maturity should match, not prey on, innocence.
10. Men who think they are superior. Whether it’s about gender, money, or intelligence, superiority is the fastest way to reveal insecurity. Real strength doesn’t need to look down on others to stand tall.

There are more red flags if you pay close enough attention. But I think these ten are enough to show how awareness grows with experience, even if that experience isn’t romantic. At the end of the day, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with taking time before choosing someone. I’d rather be single for years than married to the wrong person for life. This is just my personal view, shaped by observation, not bitterness. Maybe love will find me someday, but when it does, I hope it recognizes that I’ve spent all these years learning how to see clearly.

With quiet clarity,

narratifa