Modern dating. Dating has never really been my friend. Countless first dates; a very countable amount of second dates. They all start out the same. Allow me to paint you a picture. A guy asks me out – I tell him Thursday, 7:30 (first dates on a weekend are a waste of everyone’s time, in my humble opinion). He picks a restaurant, I tell him I’ve never been to it. I’ve been on 3 prior first dates there. I stand in front of the mirror, straighten my hair until it burns, slick on the same lip gloss, to the same song, every time. I look at myself and sigh. Maybe this one will be better, I tell myself. I put on the same pair of jeans and a black top. I sigh again. I show up 10 minutes late, not necessarily on purpose, but the train never works in my favor. We sit down and talk about our jobs, our hobbies, where we want to travel next year; I lie and say I’ve been doing a good job of completing my New Year’s resolution. I try not to bring up politics. I go to the bathroom and text my girlfriends and tell them I’m still alive. Something inherently weird happens, I come up with an excuse of why I need to leave. I get back on the train. It’s always on time on the way home. Put on my pajamas, wipe off the lip gloss, mutter to myself about how it wasn’t worth it. Lights out. Rinse. Repeat.

Why do we do this? I wish I truly knew; I’m not Dostoevsky, after all. The majority of people, myself included, are not inherently “bad” people. Yet, why do we participate in the re-run? Same dialogue, different face across the table. We both know it’s bullshit, but we do it anyway. I don’t think we curate ourselves on dates from a place of dishonesty. I would argue it is largely born of the fear of rejection. Rejection makes us all writhe. Therefore, as is human nature, we begin to scramble for control through strategic performance and self-editing. Love, unfortunately, does not often follow a logical strategy. 

When did dating become so rigid? Maybe it always has been. But, the adherence to the script pains me. It’s inauthentic by default. What do you do? Where are you from? What are you looking for? (This is the worst one). I say this not to say that we should be trauma dumping our childhood experience onto some guy we’ve known for 30 minutes. However, we could all let go of the customer service representative-esque conversation, right? First dates are strange. Their point, supposedly, is that you have an opportunity to get to know someone, and possibly even like them. So, why do we all walk in trying to control the narrative? 

The dance of the first date is essentially that of an exchange of resumes. You, and they, lay out your best qualities, achievements, attractive traits, and maybe a funny story (the PG version). Consistently, however, we leave out the stuff that makes us who we are. The quirks, weird habits, or embarrassing moments that we cringe and laugh about with our friends. I’ve never told a first date about the time in college that I repeatedly showed up to the wrong class for two weeks in a row before realizing. What if he thinks I’m an idiot!  

This then begs the question, are we trying to be known, or are we trying to be chosen. 

I’m not sure there is really a right answer. To say I, or perhaps the royal we, don’t want to be chosen would be absurd. Of course we do. But perhaps we’ve gotten confused on what that actually means. There is a difference between being chosen from a place of love, and being chosen from a place of sterilized approval. One asks someone to see you and love you anyway. In spite of the fact that you participated in POSC663 by accident for two weeks. The other asks them to love an editorialized and synthetic version of yourself. Big difference. 

During a recent sob-on-the-floor moment, a very dear friend of mine told me “The greatest thing you can remind yourself of in life is that we actually don’t have control of anything” (Thank you, Z!). In a world where we desperately grasp for certainty and control, dating strips us of that power. It’s what makes it so uncomfortable. And, what makes it so wonderful when it actually goes well. We try to nitpick and control everything that goes into a date, especially a first one. Maybe if I say the right thing, they’ll like me. Maybe if I look the right way, they’ll be attracted to me. Maybe if I don’t talk too much, they won’t think I’m annoying. And on and on into oblivion. Reality, however, is not so flexible. The truth is that you cannot control whether or not someone likes you. You cannot control chemistry. You cannot control timing, or if someone is ready to show up for you in a meaningful way. You cannot control any of it. That leaves us with very little to do except show up authentically and honestly, over and over again, even if it makes you sick (cue avoidance). 

Now, I don’t want all of you reading this to think I am cynical. Dating can be a lot of fun. I have learned wildly interesting things from people I have gone on dates with, even the ones I never re-visited. I once went on a date with a guy who explained, in great detail, the entire socio-economic history of Mesopotamia to me over a hot dog and a beer. I never saw him again, but I am now well-versed in the Uruk trading network that took place along the Euphrates River circa 2900 BCE. My point being, the best dates are the ones that go off the script. The conversation wanders, you laugh so hard that you snort, someone says or does something embarrassing; and then, all the sudden, 4 hours have gone by accidentally and you’re not performing anymore. Austin Butler said on Subway Takes (shoutout Kareem), that “embarrassment is an under explored emotion.” I think he’s right. We avoid embarrassment, especially when dating, because it requires vulnerability (eeek!). In turn, vulnerability requires relinquishing control. And so goes the circle. Every good love story begins with two people being willing to peer down the gauntlet of rejection and put their feelings on the line anyway. Maybe in love, and in life, embarrassment is just the price of admission. 

Who really buys the first round, then? Is it you? Is it them? Is it the version of ourselves we are masquerading as for 2 hours to keep up our carefully sanitized image. Maybe it’s nobody. Perhaps the goal isn’t to find someone who enjoys the carefully crafted, buttoned up version of us. It’s to find someone who stays when the resume is off the table. The best people I have met, in the land of dating, have always been the ones who made me forget to audition, and begin actively participating. The whole point of the thing, per chance, is to find a space where renouncing control isn’t so jarring.

I’m not sure. 

If you are, call me.

Xo, R.