Sex Column: "The Maybe Date"
Posted: 11/5/07
Editor's note: Names have been changed to protect the naughty.
I felt like Claire Danes in Baz Luhrmann's "Romeo and Juliet." Well, sort of. It was a typical night here at GW and I was drunk and stumbling in a pair of F-Me boots somewhere between L and M streets when my friends and I decided we were going to make it to "just one more party." As I opened the door and walked into the apartment, my drunken romantic self was floored. He was standing in the kitchen and I couldn't take my eyes off this man - I'll call him Romeo. With his dark eyes, white button-up shirt and great ass there was no way I was leaving that booze-filled kitchen that suddenly felt like fair Verona. My time in Verona was cut short as my drunken herd of friends insisting that we head out. As I stumbled down the hallway of the apartment building I was rather bummed about not scoring Romeo's number, but to my surprise there was Romeo running behind me. Needless to say, I did get his phone number and the next morning I was a hung-over, but happy camper.
A few days later, I gave him a call and he agreed to meet me for dinner at Froggy Bottom Pub. The date was going great and after my fifth Diet Coke and third slice of pizza, I decided that I wanted to see this stud on a more regular basis. My decision was short-lived though when out of nowhere my Romeo dropped the g-bomb. I was suddenly confused. Romeo had a girlfriend? This wasn't a date? Was chasing a girl out of a party and agreeing to meet her for dinner suddenly not a date situation? To make matters even more confusing as he walked me back to my door he asked if I wanted to have a movie night at his apartment and told me that he would call me soon. How was this not a date? It felt like a date in every possible respect minus his talking about how amazing his girlfriend is and my making up a guy I had a crush on so Romeo would not think that I thought it was a date.
Two bowls of ice cream later, I knew the answer to my dilemma was not hiding at the bottom of my Ben & Jerry's carton. So I consulted my friends on what they felt constituted as a date. It turned out my friends had been in similar situations. My friend, who I'll call Surfer Girl, insists that it's the word choice that gets her into choppy water. "If a guy says he wants to take me to dinner, I know it's a date, but if he says let's hang out or let's grab coffee, that can be rather ambiguous." My other friend Southern Belle insists, "If he doesn't pay, I assume were just hanging out." My friend Pearls also added that "if you go somewhere off-campus you can be pretty sure it's a date." On a more successful date I once went on the guy told me he knew it was a date because I was wearing nice shoes. So what exactly does a date have to entail for it to actually be a date? Kissing? Compliments? Picking up the check? Nervous laughter?
Getting an answer or a definition is not always easy. Despite Romeo's good looks and charm, I never had the nerve to call him and ask him what was going on because I was afraid of being the girl who thought that dinner at Froggy Bottom was a date. Most of us have been there, out with a guy or girl and have wondering, "Are we dating or still taking part in a consensual stalking phase?"
Then again, a little mystery doesn't do anyone too much harm. The biggest thrill of relationships is seeing what happens, where things go and taking it from there. In fact, the person you have never given a second thought to might turn out to be the person of your dreams. If we always knew where things were going or what the definition of the situation was it probably wouldn't be half as exciting. However, I would have preferred if Romeo gave me a few more hints so I wouldn't be left wondering if he was looking for an affair or just a Froggy Bottom buddy.
© Copyright 2007 GW Hatchet
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