now paging mr. right or mr. right now

What is it about dating that makes one turn into an anxious, self-conscious, second-guessing adolescent each time? It doesn't matter who your date is, whether you've been pining over him for years or merely agreed to join him merely for a free night out (not that I would EVER condone such behavior). It doesn't matter how long you've known him, once you're in a dating situation you will cease from being your normal self for a few hours. Perhaps this likelihood would change if the setting were less stereotypically "datey," but tonight that was not the case and I have never felt less like a woman (or myself, for that matter) since...well, the last time I went to the movies on a date.

The arduous process begins with making the decision of what to do. Considering 90% of first dates occur at the movies I have no idea why I feel such apprehension when participating in this decision making. Why even bother when both parties know they're going to fall back on the safe option? Let's just make it an unwritten rule that all first dates must involve a movie theater at some point in order to eliminate all the trauma. Although, on the off chance a male of the species shows any sort of originality whatsoever, perhaps the option should be left open. (Seriously, ask me if I want to drink cheap champagne down on the beach late at night, hike up Diamondhead to watch the sunrise, or drive aimlessly around the island stopping for everything and nothing at the same time...and I will marry you within a heartbeat.)

Once the activity is agreed on both parties have to negotiate specifics. Which day? Which theater? What time? And, most importantly, which movie? This is not as easy as most people (or perhaps just me) think. The real difficulty is not in the actual decisions that need to be made, just in the fact that neither party wants to make them. She wants to make sure he's actually interested in the movie they see rather than just appeasing her by nominating a chick flick. He, on the other hand, wants to make her happy. Little does he know, if he were to be a man and call the damn shots (while not being a dominating jerk about it) she would be thrilled. As a female, I hate planning the date you asked me out on. You asked me, you're paying, show me you know how to treat a lady.

On arriving to the theater (here's to hoping there were no awkward silences in the car!) there's the question of payment. Menfolk, despite being the ones to pay (at least you better be), you do have it easy here. Women are caught in the treacherous "do-i-make-a-reach-for-it" dilemma. We assume you're going to pay, but we don't want to look like we assume you're going to pay. We also know reaching into our wallets for money seems asinine and somewhat trite. We have to be ridiculous and do it anyways lest we seem rude, but you know it's just for show. It's the catch-22 of dating. If you're a real man and it's a true date, make it easy for us and tell us once you start to see the reach in action to put our money away for the night. (Although, I do personally like to contribute something to the night in the form of buying snacks or paying for parking, etc. Call me a modern woman.)

Alright, despite a possible minor reenactment of "the reach" scenario at the concession counter, we're assuming you're sitting in the theater now. Choosing a seat isn't generally a big deal, especially if it's packed. In fact, the beginning of the movie shouldn't pose many problems. It's only once you get a third of the way in that the real issues take precedent. In the official handbook of dating guidelines it states that hand holding is expected at one point during cinematic viewings (and demanded if the movie is scary or intense) and if there is an absence of any hand holding by the end of the date that abnormality is afoot. Guys, if you can't find the nerve to grab her hand at some point then I have no clue how you ended up on the date in the first place. You're telling me it's easier to ask a girl out and chance rejection than go for the hand hold after you've discovered she isn't going to turn you down? Grow a pair! It's not the girls job to make the moves here! Rest easy, the girl should make her hand available to you when she's ready. This isn't baby-making we're talking about here, it's hand holding. You paid a minimum of $20-$30 to spend this time with her. She accepted your invitation, so she's obviously somewhat into you. This gives you permission and rights to hold her hand. Trust me.

After the movie, you're both forced to have the obligatory "so-what-did-you-think?" conversation. Of course, unless the movie sucked donkey balls, you're both gonna provide a good but noncommittal answer, maybe discuss a few specifics, and then move on. Unless you've bravely managed to discuss it previously, you're now left in the car deciding where the evening will go next. Food usually comes up eventually, but whether you're starving or just using the excuse of eating as another easy out, neither of you can commit on what kind of nourishment you want. Nevermind that this is a great opportunity to find out about the other person's likes or dislikes, each person is too focused on pleasing their date without revealing anything embarrassing or appalling about themselves. ("Hmm, I really want a cheeseburger but then I might sound like a fat girl! And what if I suggest going somewhere with a happy hour, will he think I'm a lush? Is he a lush? If I suggest Italian it'll probably be expensive and he'll think I'm high maintenance. I'll just wait and see what he suggests. Oh, if he says Italian this will definitely not be the last date.")

The food portion of the night is typically uneventful. Orders are made, but little food is eaten. It may be just me, but I rarely order what I would under normal circumstances. Whether this is because of temporary insanity or my ability to be easily persuaded I don't know. The check is delivered, presenting another financial stand-off, but hopefully by that point you've mastered that situation. The night draws to a close. The car pulls up to your apartment. Any conversations are neatly tied up. The seatbelt is undone. And then there you are...

I'm beyond the age where there's a taboo on first date kissing. I'm twenty-seven. If I want to kiss a man, I'll kiss him. The whole problem is reading him. No man should ever assume he's getting a kiss. They know this already. And we all know they're hoping it's a possibility. However, even if both sides want to, even if the girl is aware the guy wants to, even if the guy is aware the girl is willing, there are those inevitable seconds of romantic psychological limbo that determine how the night will end.

Also inevitable is the sense of relief once you're walking up the steps of your building. The pressure is off. You have time to call your girlfriends and rehash the awkward events of the evening. You can change into your comfortable clothes and put your hair back in a ponytail. And then you're left wondering what will happen from here.

I know my dating observances are negative and opinionated, but this only strengthens my hopes that one day there will be a date that breaks all my expectations. I will be eased and impressed. My faith will be reinstated. And I'm convinced that man will end up being my man.

Here's to hope!