Two weeks ago, a girl asked me on a date. Or at least I thought she did. She texted me asking, "Dinner soon?"
I was confused. I was excited at the prospect of going to dinner with an awesome person, but perhaps I was mistaking a normal dinner at the Commons for a real-person restaurant date. I kept second-guessing myself, going through her texts, reading between the lines. Finally, I went to my housemates for some much-needed advice.
My girl friends have always been there to offer some opposite-sex perspective on confusing co-ed interactions. Sometimes their sage wisdom can solve all of my problems. Other times their advice introduces another concern, which only makes the situation more stressful.
But I continue to hope their collective perspectives will offer some unknown insight into the female psyche. I feel like an archaeologist digging for the secret to romantic interaction, the cipher for the awkward pre-date period, the Rosetta Stone of text messages and vague flirtation.
Sometimes, what I dig up is more trouble than it's worth.
The texter wasn't a close friend; we knew each other from a class and we had a number of mutual friends. Not the brand of friend that casually asks to meet for dinner to catch up.
So I approached my housemates and asked for their opinions. I tried not to lead the questioning. "I got this text today. Kinda weird, right?"
Some responded innocently enough. "It's just dinner, Griff. What's the big deal?" I explained the situation in a bit more depth. Another was convinced that it was a date.
"But what if it is just another casual dinner at Dewick?" I whined. "Do I meal her in? Is that reading into it too much? And if it is a date, do I choose the restaurant? Do I order for her?"
My housemates looked at me with disgust. "You sound like a girl, Griff."
In my defense, most guys do think about all of this stuff. We're usually just as nervous about these interactions as girls are. And sometimes we think about things too much, seize up under the pressure and aren't proactive when we should be.
The girls let loose and fired advice my way. "You should choose the setting. That puts you in control of the situation." "And you should drive. Can you borrow someone's car?" "And you should pay. That's a definite sign that it was a date." "Be conversational, but don't be overbearing. Laugh at her jokes, but only laugh if they're funny." "Take her to a museum, or go on a walk by the Charles." "Kiss her." "Don't kiss her."
It went on and on. Was the key to success buried somewhere in that endless stream of girl-consciousness? They were forcing their ideal date dreams onto me.
But with so much contrasting advice, I wouldn't be able to enjoy the date. I would be filtering through my index of girl insight, trying to hook on to the cipher that might or might not be there.
So I forgot about all of their advice. She picked me up. I chose the restaurant. There was no lull in the conversation. We laughed a lot. We split the bill. We went for a short walk. I kissed her goodnight. It was pretty wonderful.
My housemates have very strong, very different perspectives on life. And I love hearing them all. I'll keep asking them for their opinions, but sometimes I have to remember that the key is just going with the flow. And that's the cipher I've been searching for.
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Griffin Pepper is a senior majoring in political science. He can be reached at Griffin.Pepper@tufts.edu.
