In honour of Saint Valentine, in this week’s newsletter I’m going to do the thing that, let’s face it, we’ve all been waiting for: I’m going to discuss my love life. Not any specifics (which are admittedly fairly boring anyway), but rather some of the questions I mull over in rambled, mini-podcasts that I send to friends in the form of voicenotes. Something I’ve been trying to grapple with in moments of boredom and insanity is the age old date/notdate conundrum: “can two people be on a date if it’s not mutually agreed upon beforehand?” It’s a question that frequently makes an appearance in my ever constant internal monologue (that apparently not everyone has?) largely because of late, I seem to be getting it wrong.
I’ll preface everything I’m about to splutter through with the assertion that it actually doesn’t fucking matter at all if two people agree on a thing being a date/notdate for there to be an undercurrent of romance. The very establishment of a bundle of time spent between two (or more) people in such tightly defined parameters undoubtedly ruins some of the potential for magic. The best bits of any sort of romantic engagement are in those unspoken moments of chemistry. “I have a date with X” sounds so formal, perhaps a little contrived. Even a little bit too American. I suppose that’s one of the reasons why the apps-dating thing is so horrendous.
Despite this strongly-held belief, I still find myself asking the following questions to anyone that will listen (in this case, you): does a thing being a date/notdate depend on the activity itself? When does a cycle ride, Tesco run, picnic in the park or stroll around the Tate cross the threshold from being a wholesome activity between friends to something a little more? Is it a date if they fancy you but not vice versa, and each party is aware of the imbalance? Can a thing not be a date, even if it has the trappings of a date, just because you’re not interested in them? How can you establish the boundary between date/notdate with someone you are trying to befriend, but who may have misunderstood the intended dynamic?
Naturally, I’m overthinking it, because again as we’ve already established: 1) I am crazy, and 2) it doesn’t fucking matter. However, I will say that these obscure boundaries can make things somewhat complicated if you’re a 20-something year old single woman who is still at the point where befriending likeminded weirdos is an exciting and joyous thing to do.
Perhaps the best example I have of getting the date/notdate thing very, very wrong, is when I thought I was being asked out by someone I had a crush on at school, but was actually being invited to take part in a pyramid scheme they had recently gotten involved with. I really wish I was joking. I was 19/20 and he told me he had wanted “to show me something” one weekend. He asked me to wear something smart and meet him somewhere near South Ken one Sunday. I was naturally thrilled, and convinced myself I was about to go on the type of outing that 20-year old Tumblr girls daydream of. It was very much not that, but rather the two of us in a hotel conference room with hundreds of others, who were all extremely enthusiastic about a telecoms company I’d never heard of.
As an archetype extrovert (with some caveats, naturally), I feel nourished and revived through human interaction. I love people and all the awful, painful, silly and mad things we all do to and for one another. I form inordinately strong attachments, to varying degrees of affection, to new people that come into my life and make me feel some type of warmth. The feelings aren’t always romantic (but admittedly tend to be), but more a fondness like the one you may reserve for an old best friend you rarely get to see. Whether it be a fitness instructor, the guy who stands by the entrance at work who says my name with a smile, the barista at my local coffee shop or that bloke I went on 4 dates with 2 years ago - each time a new, intriguing person comes into my life I hold onto them like the treasure I see them as. I think perhaps, as a result, it’s led to some confusing encounters that have made the whole date/notdate thing a bit tricky.
I’ve known I’ve had an addictive personality since the age of about 12. It’s not addiction, per say, perhaps penchant for intensity is more fitting. If I find something I like, be it an activity, film, writer, album, ingredient, colour or person, I let myself be consumed by it. Whatever the thing is, it takes over my mind and my body and keeps me afloat and disrupts my thoughts for a given period of time.
I think my reliance on human interaction (my therapist is reading this and muttering “you mean validation” under their breath) coupled with my tendency to form fairly immediate and intense attachments may in part explain why I’ve been struggling with the date/notdate questions recently. Making friends gets harder as you get older for a myriad of reasons, the date/notdate thing being one of them. Can I ask you out for a walk and a coffee without you thinking I’m trying to insert myself into your life in a way I have no intention of doing? I’ve gotten the date/notdate thing wrong countless times, in both directions, and will likely continue to do so for the foreseeable future, for the alternative (sterile, calculated discussions about the nature of a plan between friends) is far worse.
This week’s newsletter is dedicated to Anna and her grandmother. Love takes many shapes, grief being one of them. The beauty of navigating our way through our hopelessly messy lives is allowing all facets of the human experience to engulf us - the good, the hilarious, and the heartbreaking. Love you forever.