When did “date” become a “four letter word”?
At this point, I assume it preceded my entry into the world of romantic entanglements. I have been out with men of varied ages, some many years my senior (and handful my junior) and the phenomenon seems to exists: if I never want to see him again, all I need to say is “date”.
In initiation, euphemisms are common place. “Dinner”, “get together”, “meet up” and other terms chosen add a hazy grey to events, expectations and (sometimes, unfortunately) code of conduct. Most sound like things one might do platoniclly, purposely.
Early in a possible romantic relationship, I find these terms acceptable. In many ways they serve to remove pressures we put on ourselves. In cases where very little is known about the other person, or I have yet to meet them in person (yay internet!), I am an advocate for “fuzzy”. If I don’t know you, “coffee” or something else casual and public, is best to become relaxed and familiar.
However, if familiarity is such that physicality is in play (especially for myself), sorry, I want to be aware of “intentions”, at least to the extent of calling “dinner” a date. You want to kiss me, touch me, and other such things, I deserve the respect of the word “date”. And honestly, I would think a man would want that too.
Yet, somehow, in my experience, this seems to translate into “long term” “till death do us part” when uttered. Suddenly there is talk about marriage, living together, kids, mortgages and other things. My head spins, and typically both parties wind up in a defensive mess.
When I say “date”, I mean date. As in “I like you, (possibly) care about you, and would like to get to know you in a romantic manner, not simply a platonic one”. Breaching “long term” subjects comes in time. FUCK! I’d like to know if I can handle dinner a night or two a week with you first.