What Are We?

What the hell is “dating” anyways? Who makes the rules? 

The majority of people I thought I was dating did not think they were dating me. We were just “talking” or “coolin”. Maybe dating is a step up from that then? Or maybe talking is casual dating, then when you agree to be in a relationship with somebody, you guys are dating dating. Buuuutt why would a committed relationship be considered dating? Sounds like too simple of a term. 

To the same, what is the millennial woman’s role in the dating scene? While our grandmothers have coached us to desire to be claimed out of the coat check that is single-hood, our mothers tell us to seek a best friend. 90’s television told us not to desire a man at all, but to achieve and expect a line of suitors wielding engagement rings like Wonka’s Golden Tickets. My reality is depressing because I have yet to overcome the mixed messages. I still haven’t cracked the code. I don’t know if there is an “other side” to get to, with all the confusion around what dating even is- compounded by the expectations each person assigns to it. 

I feel kinda stupid in my dealings with men. Stupid because there’s things that I think I should be mad or concerned about, but don’t actually feel alarmed. I can’t just act mad about something I think my homegirls would be mad about if I told them. I definitely can’t imitate what I imagine one of them doing in the same situation. I feel even more dumb when I consider if any of my friends would even be in some of these situations, due to better judgment of character than I’ve had. Please don’t confuse this with overlooking red flags. I’m talking about accepting traits like being a self- described “sexual person” or their underdeveloped communication skills. I take pride in considering every potential partner as a whole package. I weigh out the details they’ve shown and told me and compare it with the reason I was even willing to “talk” (date?) in the first place. Is this baggage or an emotional instability? Many times, I’ve decided to cut the person off because I feel so dumb for choosing to accept the particular imperfections the person has. 

What am I supposed to want in a partner? Should my expectations/ desires change with the sex of the person pursuing me? I think having high standards has been both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because men disqualify themselves when they realize they can’t meet them. The way they go about letting me know they aren’t right for me changes with each face, but the point is always made. It’s a curse because I stay questioning how far below the bar I’ve set is acceptable. 

Still, I wonder are my standards even high, or do I have an active imagination?  Prince Charming is either a metaphor or a lie, but I haven’t figured it out yet.