A native Chicago woman I met recently happened to bemoan that in Los Angeles, not the easiest town for meeting people (unless they’re encased in tons of steel), guys rarely utter the “d” word. No, not “divorced.” “Date.”
Wanna meet for coffee? Fine. Catch a movie? Sure. Go out on a date? Let’s think first. Are we really ready for that kind of commitment?
Before we rename JDate JHang, maybe it’s time to reexamine our phobias about dating. For most of us, the date that will live in infamy isn’t just Pearl Harbor Day. Most of them eventually end on a less than mutually blissful note. Otherwise, we wouldn’t still be looking. Maybe we’re reluctant to assign the lost opportunities of past dates to future ones. But, before we neuter the term into oblivion, let’s make a date to start treating “date” with the respect it deserves. Interested in her? Ask her out on a date. Not interested in him? Tell him, “No. But, let’s catch a movie.”
Okay. I’ll hit the theater near me. You hit the one near you.