bright lights, date city

It may surprise many of you to know that I am single. I know, I know, How can he be single? (I'm sure my ego has nothing to do with it). Trust me, it's the question du ano (make that like three anos, but who's keeping count really?). Now that we have that fun bit of Justin trivia cleared up, I'll get to my point.

When did dating become so complicated? I feel like there should be a clear procession of events that can either lead to a relationship or to dodging phone calls while trying to maintain a clear conscience. 2008 Indy is not that simple.

Conundrum of the year so far: How the hell do you know if it's a date or if it's the dreaded "just friends" or just a meal ticket? I feel like at one point we used to announce our intentions. Like he'd say "Wanna come up?" and you knew there were a whole host of things that could go up. Recently I went out with someone who I am quite attracted to, and yet have no idea what side of the line we fall. We had a lingery car moment though. He didn't just hop out and say, "Peace." There was some idle chatter, an awkward hug, and me with a puzzled expression. Now, I'm always a respectable gentleman (unless drunk) and would never invite myself up (unless really drunk), but, damn, what do I have to do?

In an omnipresent landscape of digital connections and mobile chatting, we have completely lost the capability for face to face dating and flirting. We now have screennames to hide behind and the ambiguity of written dialogue. It's no wonder that we don't know how to read someone's intentions because there is no winkey face emoticon to follow whatever they are saying. Text messaging as even replaced calling someone. It's much easier to text someone out for dinner because then you can't hear them scramble for a reason to pass on you.

There is truly no way to get past this interplay of mixed messages without taking a dive into more frightening waters. We have to be able to accept rejection and embarassing moments for something to finally happen. Shit, get drunk even. Lord knows I've done some stupid things when schwasted, but some of those have been hella fun. It's not the other person we have to be afraid of, but the perfectly pixellated image of ourselves.