What Does ‘Dating’ Even Mean? An Investigation

Bridesmaids
Bridesmaids

What in the living fuck does dating mean?  I’ve spent years trying to figure this one out, and it’s possibly the most difficult mystery to ever befall the earth.  I’ve done my fair share of field research by literally dating every single person available, and I’m still just as confused, if not more confused, than I was when I started this dumb journey.  It’s as if the more people I date and the more dates I go on, the more perplexed I become.  Does everyone have their own unique definition of the word?  I guess they do, but can we at least verbalize our motives at the beginning of whatever bullshit we’re getting ourselves into this time?  And if, in some miraculous moment, we are entering into something beautiful will you please pinch me so that I know this is not an alcohol-induced dream.  I now understand why there are so many bitter, old people in the world.  I get it.  Someone (probably a few someones) wronged them, lied to them, and made them feel insane, and they still have not recovered from it.  I totally get that, although, I do not think that’s a good path of life to take.  There’s more to live for.  Consider taking on something less confusing than dating such as the mystery of the Bermuda Triangle.  Then, go find the lost island of Atlantis.

At which failed relationship do you throw in the rag?  I have a bunch of white flags stockpiled for this moment, but for some stupid reason I still have hope that someone will come along and make dating make sense to me.  How do you know when it’s time to give up, ignore your cat allergy, and start the hoarding process?  I thought this would have happened by now.  There’s a void to fill.  I’ve heard cats can do that, and it’s a lot easier to accrue kitties than worthwhile human beings.

Here’s an accurate diagram I just made about the effects of dating on brains:

Diagram 1

Here’s your brain:

Shutterstock
Shutterstock

Here’s your brain on dating:

Shutterstock
Shutterstock

Scary isn’t it?  Dating can do serious damage.  Dating is dangerous.  (See Diagram 1)

Dating also apparently has one hundred million different meanings, and I can’t deny that I have probably created a few myself.  I have, at some point in my life, serial dated like I was born into this world to briefly date everyone who was ever created by whichever “awesome” deity decided to make dating a thing that humans feel entitled to partake in, and in that I have succeeded!  Congratulations are in order for my shitty, nonchalant dating attitude in the past.  Good riddance to that and to ever knowing what the hell is going on between you and that person you’re seeing or sleeping with or whatever-the-fuck you’re doing.  During my research I’ve concluded that the following are all acceptable forms of dating.  Do with it what you will.

  • I like you and only you, and we are together.
  • I’m just keeping you around until someone better comes along.
  • I dig you.  I really, really dig you.  But I also really dig these other three people that I’m going to go out and sleep with when I’m not with you.
  • This means nothing, but we are having sex on a somewhat regular basis.
  • I’m not ready for anything even remotely serious, so I’m going to keep us at this mystery level probably until one of us dies.
  • You buy me dinner when we go out.  I think that’s dating.
  • We made weird eye contact at 5am on the train.  We’re dating.
  • I don’t even know why you’re here.  I don’t like you.
  • You’re the best!  I love you!  (Two days later:  *Runs away*)
  • We stopped talking months ago, but no one technically ended things, so I guess we are technically still dating.
  • You give me free drugs, and I’ll sleep with you.
  • We’ve never met in person, but this dating app matched us so it must be real!  Please respond to me.

We’re doomed.  We’re all doomed. TC mark

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