Saturday, May 14, 2016

Why I’d Rather Not Call it a Date

Perhaps it’s shows like The Bachelor that romanticize the concept of an immediate and immeasurable “connection” that have propelled us to believe a romantic relationship necessitates butterflies, sweaty palms and a quick heartbeat, but there’s nothing wrong with a slow burn.  In fact, I’m advocate number one for the slow burn [(n): attraction that builds over time].
image from Elle
Most of my “relationships” go something like this.  Meet, think nothing of it; meet again, think this person is interesting; meet again, think THIS IS MEANT TO BE!  For some reason, my primary reaction to meeting the male species is to interpret them as an individual first and potential romantic partner second.  Self diagnosis tells me that I think that it’s easier to talk to someone without the added stress of trying to figure out if we both want to bone.  Enter my dilemma with dating apps aka modern dating.


The entire experience is predicated on snap judgments.  Under 6’0”? Pass.  College I’ve never heard of? Pass.  Picture with unidentified infant? Pass. But after enough swiping, you'll ultimately you'll find a match!  In a perfect scenario, you chat mindlessly back and forth to determine whether or not the person behind the picture is worthy of meeting for drinks.  After a couple of drinks on a noncommittal weekday night, you’re expected to determine if the past hour or so necessitates the next step: dinner.  And so on and so on.  



Perhaps it’s my skepticism of strangers (someone should tell kids “don’t talk to strangers” has an expiration date), but when someone says, “Dinner?” I really hear am I that into this? Do I have to kiss you since you’re paying?  All when the only data point is an hour in a half at a place you found on Infatuation’s “Best First Date Spots.”  It’s all too much.


Cue my preference to not call it a date in the first place in order bypass all of the awkwardness with which it comes.  Enter slow burn territory.
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