When a date is a date is a date

It’s pretty obvious when you’re on a date, right? A guy asks you out for dinner, you have your hair and nails done, squeeze into that LBD that you know always makes you look a complete knock-out, don your favourite Laboutins and head to the most chic restaurant in town. Or so you’d think…

According to a male friend of mine, a date is not always a 'date’ and most guys really don’t like labelling a date a 'date’. Make sense? Apparently, men dislike the connotations associated with the word ‘date’. In other words, they think a 'date’ pressurises them into having a full blown relationship. So, if a guy just asks you to hang out one-on-one, effectively, you’re on a date. And guys think girls are complicated!

With that in mind, I thought back to how many dates I’d been on without even realising. Turns out it’s been a fair few. The reason I didn’t recognise they were dates is because they were either with a friend (but not too good a friend that it was definitely platonic) or a business acquaintance.

So, does that mean my sweaty roller blading session with Mr. A.P was a date? And my drinking binges with S were too? Do they know they were dates? And if Mr. A.P and I continue with our one-on-one blading sessions, does that mean we're dating? Well, we're going on dates, aren't we?

Still unclear on the definition of 'a date', I questioned a few friends of mine last night. What I'd hoped would give me a clear answer, turned into an insightful debate. Does a date have to be one-on-one? What if your coupled-up friends ask you out for dinner with them and their single guy friend? Is that a date? It may be a double date, but it's a date. And then what about when a single girl and her single male friend go shopping together? Surely that's not a date if you're just friends, that would be a frienaissance, which, as I learnt yesterday, is is where two friends agree to meet for a social activity on a purely platonic level.

What about a rendez-vous? To me, a rendez-vous is a little bit secretive and a little bit naughty, perhaps even downright filthy, and I wouldn't put it in the same bracket as a date. However, its literal translation from French does mean 'date' or 'appointment', suggesting it's not an illicit meeting.

Going back to 'date', according to my friend, BG, a date is sweet and is expected to grow into something. She was obviously referring to the fruit, but she had a point nonetheless... However, it was my housemate, BBD, who probably had the best definition for 'a date'. He described it as a pre-arranged meeting between two people where there is romantic intent from at least one party. I think that's as close to hitting the nail on the head as possible. Would you disagree?

BBD also mentioned that if you want to be 100% certain that you are on a date with the man in question, sleep with him. If he won't sleep with you, it wasn't a date. Unless it was a blind-date and you turned out to be a dog.

So children, now that we have (sort of) established the term 'date', we can now move on to 'dating'. Surely a string of dates with a person means that you are dating? But what if these get-togethers happen sporadically? Do the dates need to occur in quick succession, say no more than a week apart, in order to consitute 'dating'? What if you're in a LDR and only go on dates once a month? What if you go on dates with a friend once every month but you see each other in your circle of friends twice a week?

What about, what BG calls, 'the fillers'? In other words, the contact inbetween the time you went on your last date and when you go on your next date? It could be phone calls, emails, texts, seeing each other in a group of friends, facebook comments etc. Are they significant? Would a lack of fillers signify there is less romantic interest? Ultimately, without fillers, there will be no next date, so they must have some significance...

And after how many 'dates' do you consider yourself to be 'dating'? My guess would be that dating is the interim period between the first date, where you decide you have an attraction to someone or not, and entering into a relationship, which is where you have decided you want to commit to this person. The boys questioned seem to think that 'dating' only occurs after the third date. Why is that, as according to a study at the Edinburgh Science Festival a few years ago, most people decide whether or not we're partner material within the first 30 seconds of meeting?

Would you go on a second date with someone you weren't interested in dating? Nine times out of ten, the answer is no. So, a second date means you want to find out even more about that person to decide whether or not you wish to embark upon a relationship with them. Therefore, you are dating, right?

In addition to all that, BBD seemed to think that if there is no sexual contact (kissing included) after two or three dates, then you're no longer dating and have, instead, entered into a frienaissance. But what if you have had sexual contact but you weren't, technically, on a date at the time? I mean, if there's sexual contact at any time, you would consider that as romantic interest, wouldn't you?

It's a lot to think about and maybe there is no definition. Perhaps 'date' and 'dating' are subjective terms and the only certainty is that they're both minefields. However, let us not forget that they are the learning playground of life...

Where is the love?

Before I start wittering on about my Dubai dating disasters, I want to explain why I'm single. I wasn't lied to, cheated on, dumped for a slimmer and sultrier woman or anything else. Quite the opposite. My ex, who we'll call, well X, for argument's sake, is a very honest and caring guy. The type that's always there and dependable. Tall and good-looking. Argh, I can hear a lot of girls screaming 'So why did you end it?'. Well, certain events unfolded that made me realise, as lovely as X is, it just wasn't working. Yes, honesty and loyalty are highly commendable traits, but it's not enough. Is it?

As a typical Aries, I crave excitement and passion, the type that gives you butterflies in your stomach and makes you want to rip your partner's clothes off whenever you see them. Where you're on the phone all night talking about everything or nothing at all. The type that makes you want to try out new things together, like travel to Timbuktu or learn how to tango.

I know after almost two years in a relationship that can fade, but truth be told, it was never really there at the beginning either. We'd lost the buzz before we even started dating. There was no thunderbolt and I wasn't swept off my feet. I merely settled because I wanted a taster. Having never been in a long-term relationship, I was desperate. Desperate to know what it was like to share your dreams with someone, desperate to come home to someone you thought about all day, everyday and desperate not to be labelled 'single' for the rest of my life. But no matter how hard I tried to convince myself X was the right guy for me, deep down, I still felt like I was single. Sure I loved (and still love) X, but I'm not, and never have been, in love with him.

Whilst I attempted to battle my deeper emotions, listening to my mother's advice that I'd only break my own heart and he was a good guy, I continued my relationship with X, holding onto the hope that maybe one day, the spark would come. It did briefly arise once or twice, but never long enough for me to reap all of its benefits.

It only became glaringly obvious to me that I should call things off when I started going out with my friends and not inviting him in fear I'd have to spend the evening talking to him. But I should want to do that, right? Well that's just it, I didn't. I'd rather spend the evening gossiping with the girls. The nights out without him became more frequent and I was spending an increasing amount of time with an old guy friend who we'll call S.

Spending time with a friend I've not seen in a while is perfectly acceptable and no threat to my relationship with X. That is, until it becomes physical. It didn't involve sex, but it easily could have done if it wasn't for my conscience niggling away at me. And the fact my legs weren't exactly silky smooth (I was waiting to get a wax, ok)! 

Thing is, my physical encounter with S felt good. So good. It was exciting and I was revelling in the feeling of that moment's freedom. Not only that, but I wanted more. More of S or more excitement, I'm not sure. Probably both. For the first time in a long time, I was being utterly selfish, even if it was only for a few moments until the old conscience kicked in. The exhilarating feeling I was experiencing was quickly followed by the realisation I couldn't continue feeling the way I was feeling unless I did something about my current relationship.

Not wanting to become a liar or a cheat by embarking upon some sort of sordid affair, after a chat with the girls, I knew what I had to do. End it with X.

The next night, I stayed in and X went out. When he came home, I wasn't my usual chatty self. He knew something was up and asked me what was wrong. Being unable to get the words out I repeatedly said 'nothing'. Eventually, X coaxed the problem out of me. I didn't mention S, I thought it'd be better all round if I didn't include him in the equation, after all he was irrelevant in this scenario. He's not irrelevant to me, but in terms of ending my relationship with X, S was just a catalyst in helping me realise what was fundamentally wrong with my relationship.

Breaking it to X that I didn't think it was working was hard, and he pleaded with me to try to work things out but in my eyes, it wasn't possible. We'd had the same conversation previously in our relationship and I was always left clinging on to the hope something exciting would happen. It didn't. We're just two very different people - he enjoys going to the gym and working out, I like eating a take-out and watching a DVD. He hates getting drunk, whereas I can think of no better way to spend my Friday night. He hates the sun, whilst I'm a sun-worshipper who is forever wanting to top up my tan. It was just destined not to work from the start and in the end, I think X finally accepted that.

In the days post break-up, I felt a weight lifted off my shoulders, albeit not all of it as I still felt a tad guilty. That weight that had been there so long, I'd forgotten it existed. It's not that I was burdened by X, but I did feel somewhat emancipated after the break-up. And for the first time in many, many years, I was happy to be single. My impending vacation was the perfect ticket to a break-up without being wracked with guilt and when I returned back to Dubai, X will have moved out and I'd be free... free to come and go as I pleased without an explanation, free to eat take-outs unashamedly and free to finally call my wardrobe my own again.

Whilst back in the UK, I met up with J, with whom I meet up with everytime I'm home. He's been my err "gratification" partner for the last five or six years. We've maintained a great relationship, with the exception of a few months when I lived a few hundred yards away from him. It was one of those where I fell for him, it wasn't reciprocated, yet I still tried my hardest to win over his affections to the point I became a bit of a stalker and actually saw less of him than I had pre obsessive-crush. It took me some time, and a couple of pretty nasty arguments with him, to realise J was never going to fall for my charms. In fact, I think it took me a move 3500 miles away to realise! But, now I get it and I'm totally cool with it. In fact, I kinda like the way it is now. 

J to me is like Big to Carrie Bradshaw before she ends up marrying him. She loves him, she doesn't love him, it's physical, it's emotional. In fact, their relationship is never defined until she ends up marrying him - not the ending I see myself and J embarking upon! 

Anyway, back to the point, whilst paying J a visit on my annual trip home, I told him about my single status and he made a comment along the lines of "You see, Reems, you actually want to be single". And, scary thing is, I think he might be right. Despite my bunny-boiler attempts a few years ago to convince him to take me as his girlfriend, even J could see I was more suited to single life. Perhaps he did me a favour?

But then I wonder how quickly the novelty of being single wears off? The novelty of being in a relationship wore off pretty quickly. Is the answer a string of relationships? One guy friend at uni used to be in relationships with girls but always end it before the six-month mark. Is that how to play the game in order to maximise the enjoyment of a relationship - the initial excitement, finding out all about someone new and then dumping them before the novelty wears off? Or does that become like drug abuse where you're constantly on a relationship high, always searching for your next partner? Or does 'The One' rehabilitate you back into the real world of love? Does 'The One" make you feel like you're still on a high and so you simply stop playing games? 

Luckily for me, I still have all of this to figure out and you get to find out how I figure it out. Ain't dating a treat!