Do I really have to call it 'dating'?

The art of dating. It has always perplexed me. If the people behind our favourite chick flicks had their way, we'd all being getting in on the fun. Well, maybe it works for some, but can't we call it something else, like, I don't know...hanging out with a member of the opposite (or same, whatever floats your boat) sex to see if they're 'significant other' material? Hmm, admittedly my suggestion isn't quite as catchy, but I reckon I'll stick with it. Keep reading to find out why.


So, 'dating', that old chestnut. Urban Dictionary defines it thus: 

'The modern day battlefield of romance where hearts are won and broken, the not-quite so version of chivalry and wooing, an interview for a lover; the lay down some time-and money and see if you get some candy routine; the progressed game of cat-and-mouse; the human courtship ritual; playing baseball for a home run.'

I'm not entirely sure who dreamt up the concept, but if I were ever to find out, I'd give them a telling off. Why? Because 'dating' or rather, the game of back-and-forth chasing/texting/flirting is odd, awkward &if I'm frank, comes with far too many rules.

A little while back I was having a chat with my friend Chris over a cup of tea (we regularly turn up at each other's rooms, demanding a brew). After all the usual banter dissipated, we got on to the 'deep and meaningful' topic of...you guessed it, dating. At this point, I should probably tell you that Chris &I are self-confessed over-thinkers. We could probably analyse a turnip until our heads hurt. So, when it came to the afore mentioned topic, we were full to the brim with puzzlement,ranting &lamentation. His major contention was that 'dating' is too structured, and seemed to demand that the man concerned be on top of his game, taking his lady out on the most exciting, ingenious rendezvous, with witty banter &free flowing compliments on tap. 

In the not-so-fine art of dating, it's the blokes who are under immense pressure to not only be pant-droppingly charming & flirtatious (but not in a sleazy way), but ooze generosity and generally be on their best behaviour. Many of my guys friends have admitted to finding the whole thing 'strict and regimented'. So much so, that the simple matter of choosing a restaurant/pub/ice rink or goodness knows what else becomes a stressful chore. As a female, I find the pre-date ritual of getting ready immensely irksome. Take for instance, one every time I go out for drinks with a man. Luckily, one of us will suggest the ever loyal pub, so I never have to worry about which of my jazzy-but-not-too-jazzy dresses to wear. Even so,  I end up re-doing my make up thrice, and I'm pretty sure I change my outfit as many times. If it wasn't for the fail-safe skinny jeans that have seen me through my first meets so far, I may have been tempted to rock up in my slob attire. 

Then comes the dreaded 'three day rule',which demands that only after three days can you text your 'date'. And by you, I don't mean either party. No, apparently it must be the man because of good old chivalry. Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those women who scowls whenever a bloke holds a door open for me, it's a nice gesture! But if I want to text a man, I won't let social propriety tell me that I shouldn't. Also, is it really fair to expect the poor bloke to pursue you? 

I feel that I've reached a point where I should clarify something: I like hanging out with men, whether they're my friends, family or maybe even prospective 'others'. Men are great, I like the smell of aftershave &I appreciate being treated like a lady despite being told by my mother that I need 'lessons in how to be graceful'. What I really like, however, is simple, pressure-free conversation over a drink in a pub with a nice bloke. Will he like me? Will I like him? Will he wonder what on earth he got himself into by asking me out? Who knows? But let's keep it simple.


Miss Dx