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|
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.