Have you ever deeply reflected on how variable people’s ideas about dating and relationships are? And I’m not even taking into account the effect of online dating apps, which sprung up somewhat after my time. Just the in-person style was more than confusing enough for me. I was a late bloomer when it came to dating and relationships. I mean really late. As in, I was so slow about it that I didn’t even realize how behind everyone else I was until recently, and I’ve been married for a few years now.

Many people started dating in high school. That wasn’t me, though. Sure, I’d ask my guy friends to the school dances that we had a few times a year, and usually a good time was had for all. They didn’t asked me out afterward, so it just stayed platonic. I had fun with it though. I would think of a nice guy to ask, someone whose company I enjoyed. Invariably, this ended up being someone from my friend group, so I already knew him pretty well from eating lunches at the same table at school every day, sitting in the same classes, playing music in orchestra together, running on the cross country team together, or being in Math Club or Knowledge Bowl together.

Once I figured out who to ask, then I’d figure out how to ask them. That was one of the fun parts for me. Usually I would make a custom greeting card for the guy or some sort of puzzle or both. They always said yes once they figured out the puzzle! Although, with one guy, he had a lot of trouble figuring it out so I had to make a second card that was like a key for the puzzle to make sure he knew it was really me asking him out. After that he said yes.

The dances themselves were usually a good time, too. I also liked the structure they provided. Instead of having to come up with all of our own plans for how to spend the night, we had a sort of formula so that there were only a few questions to figure out:

• Whose house are the girls getting ready at?
• Who is driving in which cars?
• What restaurant are we all eating at?
• How difficult is it going to be to dance in this fancy dress without making a complete fool of myself?
• Where are we going for ice cream afterward?

The whole evening was usually fun for me, even though I wasn’t the best dancer. The guys I asked to the dances also varied in their talent level, and that wasn’t really an issue for me. If they were more graceful than I was, then I had someone to learn from. If I was the better dancer, then at least I didn’t feel totally incompetent, and that meant that we would probably spend our evening coming up with totally ridiculous but entertaining dance moves.

The school dances always ended at a respectable time. Our friend group would head out or to someone’s house for ice cream and review our evening together with all the seriousness due that respectable event. That duty completed, we would return home tired but in good spirits. Us girls would remove our mascara if we had the energy, then fall asleep with our minds still racing from the sugary sundae toppings we had just consumed.

For me, attending the dances this way was a bit like going on a single date with a different guy each time. I enjoyed it, and I kinda hoped that one of them might ask me out on a real date afterward, but I wasn’t heartbroken when that didn’t happen.

Then I went to college.

In college, at least at my university, they didn’t have dances like that. I remember being quite excited freshman year about the first dance of the year, but it turned out that no one was really asking dates to the dance. Everyone just went as a big group, so I didn’t get to put my finely-honed dance-invitation skills to use. I was disappointed, but figured I would still have the fun of dressing up, doing my hair and makeup, etc. So I did and it was fun, although I missed the excitement of asking a date and getting to know a particular person better. And then I don’t remember there being any other dances after that one freshman year.

No one else seemed to mind though. My other friends either were already in long-term relationships with high school boyfriends, or somehow found dates other ways, or just never seemed to have dates, like me. It took some getting used to, but eventually I forgot about dating and got used to something called “hanging out” that you do with mixed groups of friends or miscellaneous classmates. Instead of waiting months to attend organized dances like in high school, we could go to dancing clubs whenever we wanted. Instead of staying home by myself on the weekend, I could hang out with other single people and the folks in long-distance relationships who didn’t want to spend their whole weekend alone or on the phone with their significant other. Instead of joining a running club (which can be pretty competitive at the college level), I could go jogging with several different folks until I found someone whose feet rotated at the same velocity as mine. So I did those things. And, importantly, I also made my studying fun – study parties, doing homework together with other students as much as possible, making myself a “sticker chart” for the number of hours I spent reading or working, etc.

I made it most of the way through college like this until my senior year. Senior year, something kinda amazing happened. At least, given the story of my life, it was amazing for me. I got asked out on a real date by a guy who I had had my eye on since freshman year.

Let me first back up and explain that there were 3 guys I had become interested over the course of my freshman year of college. One of them I really liked and saw somewhat frequently, but perhaps we were both shy or maybe he wasn’t interested, so nothing ever happened with him. Another one I was interested in, mostly because I knew he was a good dancer and seemed to be a fellow library-lover, but then when we went on an actual date, it was awkward. We double-dated to the movie theatre and he gave me a giant lollipop that I couldn’t get out of my mouth. I remember leaning forward in my seat so that the drool would land on the carpet as I tried to get the darn thing out. Some time later, he mentioned wanting to get taken out for a date himself but then passed my number to someone else, a final flag in a series of overly-controlling behaviors that were confusing at best. My last memory of him was him coming up to me at church to hug me and tell me he thought I was lovable. He had a warm smile as he said it. I still didn’t quite believe him.

The third guy is the one who I dated enough times to call it dating, kind of. This guy – we’ll call him Date-friend #1 to preserve his anonymity – had been dating someone else for most of freshman and sophomore year. So even though I had thought he was cute since freshman year, I had never considered that I might get to date him some day. But then one day, it happened. The inauspicious precursor to this adventure occurred early in my senior year when he gave me the stuffed-bear keychain pictured in this blog. I believe it is called a “Beefeater.” He was just returning from England, knew I was a vegetarian, and thought it would be funny to give me a souvenir with such a provoking name. Given my lack of experience in the world of romance, I didn’t realize at first that the Beefeater might be more than a platonic overture. One of my other friends assured me that it almost certainly was, to my great excitement. So that is how Date-friend #1 and I began our relationship.

It became clear to me pretty quickly that he was much better at relationships than I was. I invited him over to my forlorn studio apartment once but that place – with its bunson burner stove, moldy carpet and leaky gas heater – was not quite what you would call a charming date night. He never made me feel embarrassed about it though, he was too smooth for that. Instead, he just invited me to his place more often and I didn’t ever have to acknowledge just how pathetic my living circumstance was until the very moment of writing this blog entry. We spent most of our time at his apartment chatting, watching movies or making cookies together. Once he took me out to a restaurant and then to the movie theater to watch Garden State.

After a few weeks of dating, it seemed as though the relationship was progressing, or at least he felt that way. I was having a different experience altogether. I really enjoyed his company, but spending time as just the two of us was making me realize how uncomfortable I was with dating or anything romantic, really. How uncomfortable I was in my own body, if I were really honest with myself. It was starting to dawn on me that what I needed was not someone to date, but someone who could help me sort through my confusion and reteach me how to relate to people. I didn’t understand how I had gotten into such a state, and that is a story for another post, but it was clear that I was not in a good place.

I was too shy to hold his hand or kiss him, and I hadn’t even realized it until he asked me. Then he invited me to eat dinner with his friends and I spent the evening realizing that the guy next to him was the same one who had groped me unexpectedly at a Halloween party the previous year and then smirked at my distress. After that night, I decided either me or gropy-friend would have to go. And I wasn’t confident enough about the relationship to ask Date-friend #1 to avoid gropy-friend when I was around. I didn’t want to risk causing him a friendship, even a creepy one, unless I was sure that I would be able to make the relationship work. And I wasn’t, so I broke up with him.

A few years later, just before I turned 26, I started dating again. This time I was able to navigate the courtship successfully. He was my first kiss and second boyfriend. And then he became my husband.

This story is really a long-winded way to say, there’s no one right way to date, though if it’s something you want to do and seem to be failing at, consider therapy and strengthening your friendships first. Any folks out there who go years without dating or end up marrying their first kiss, I’ve been there. As long as you’re having fun and making connections along the way, that’s time well spent.