Dating at Uni: How I Set Boundaries Without Making It Awkward

Okay, so I recently spent approximately twenty minutes deciding whether texting “I’d rather take things slow” sounded too serious.

Twenty. Minutes.

I changed the wording. Deleted it. Rewrote it. Put my phone face down like that would solve anything. Picked it back up thirty seconds later.

Meanwhile, Flat Chat was going off because everyone was trying to decide where we were meeting, and Maya was standing in my doorway watching me have what can only be described as a full emotional crisis over one completely normal sentence.

“What are you actually trying to say?” she asked.

“I just don’t want things to move too fast.”

“So say that.”

Reader, revolutionary.

Because somewhere along the way, I’d convinced myself that dating at uni meant being chill.

Chill about plans. Chill about situationships. Chill about mixed signals. Chill about what I wanted. Chill when I absolutely was not chill.

And I’m starting to realise that half my dating anxiety wasn’t actually about dating.

It was about trying so hard not to make anything awkward that I wasn’t saying what I actually wanted.

I thought boundaries meant rejecting someone:

My sex ed was basically biology plus a vague warning that Everything Has Consequences.

Useful.

What nobody really explained was how to say:

“I’m not ready for that.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I do like you, but I want to slow down.”

“Actually, I’ve changed my mind.”

That stuff somehow felt way more intimidating than memorising diagrams for an exam.

I think I had this idea that setting a boundary meant sitting someone down for a horribly serious conversation.

It doesn’t.

I’d already started learning that with privacy. When I wrote about living with flatmates, thin walls and basically zero privacy, one thing properly clicked for me: wanting privacy doesn’t mean I’m ashamed.

My room. My space. My body. My pace.

Dating boundaries are basically an extension of that.

I was trying way too hard to be the “chill girl”

Let’s be so for real.

There is a particular kind of uni dating situation where nobody quite knows what they’re calling it.

You’re seeing each other.

Sort of.

There have been messages.

There have been plans.

There has possibly been a four hour gap between replies that you absolutely did not notice because you are very relaxed and definitely weren’t checking WhatsApp.

Obviously.

And I realised I was putting more energy into seeming easy-going than asking myself whether I was actually comfortable.

That was the problem.

Not him. Not dating. Not some dramatic disaster.

Me trying to pre-approve everything so nobody could possibly think I was difficult.

I don’t do that anymore.

Or, more accurately, I’m trying not to.

What I actually say now:

The biggest thing that helped me was realising I don’t need perfect boundary language.

I just need words.

When I want to slow things down

I’ve used:

“I like you, I just want to take things a bit slower.”

Or:

“I’m not ready for that yet.”

When I don’t want something

This was harder because my automatic response was:

“Sorry, I just, um, I don’t know, sorry…”

Why am I apologising twice?

Now I try:

• “No, I’m not up for that.”
• “I’d rather not.”
• “Not tonight.”

Still polite. Still me.

Just without turning my answer into a negotiation with myself.

When I change my mind

This one matters.

Sometimes I think something sounds fine and then, when the moment actually arrives, I don’t want it anymore.

My old brain: But you already said yes and now it’ll be awkward.

My newer, slightly wiser brain: Okay? Change your mind.

5 things that made boundaries less awkward for me:

1. I started saying the little things earlier
2. I stopped presenting evidence to the court
3. I practised saying things out loud
4. I pay attention to the reaction
5. I remind myself that awkward isn’t the same as wrong

Weirdly, buying things on a budget helped me:

When I did my broke-but-curious under-£30 experiment, I kept thinking I needed to make the perfect choice.

Then I realised simple was better while I was still figuring out what I actually liked.

Dating feels weirdly similar.

I don’t need to be the most experienced person in the room.

I don’t need to perform confidence.

I don’t need to agree to something just because I think everyone else at uni is already doing it.

Starting where I’m comfortable is enough.

My extremely unglamorous uni dating safety rules:

This isn’t me pretending to be an expert. These are just the things that make me feel safer and more relaxed.

Flat Chat knows roughly where I am.

My phone has enough battery to get home.

I keep money aside for transport rather than assuming someone else is my route home.

And if either of us is too drunk to make clear choices, that is a stop sign for me. Alcohol can affect someone’s capacity to consent; someone who lacks the freedom or capacity to choose cannot legally consent.

Most importantly: if something doesn’t feel right, I don’t push myself through it just because I’m worried about disappointing someone.

I can stop.

I can go home.

I can change my mind.

Nobody gets bonus access to me because they bought drinks, paid for an Uber or have been seeing me for three weeks.

The bit I wish someone had told first-year me:

I used to think boundaries were something confident people magically knew how to do.

Now I think confidence sometimes comes after you say the thing.

You say, “I want to slow down.”

Nothing terrible happens.

Then you realise you can say it again.

You say no without apologising eleven times.

You survive that too.

You change your mind.

You go home.

You wake up the next day to:

Flat Chat

Alive?

Yes mum.

Hydrate.

And everything is still normal.

I’m not suddenly the world’s most emotionally evolved dater. Please. I recently overanalysed a full stop in a text.

But I am getting better at remembering that someone else’s potential awkwardness isn’t more important than my comfort.

So if you’re dating at uni and worrying that having boundaries makes you difficult, dramatic or inexperienced, it doesn’t.

You don’t need the perfect script.

You don’t need to be fearless.

You can be nervous and still say what you want.