Today a friend of mine asked me how I feel about kissing on a first date. My answer? Well, I’m not heading out with the expectation of a kiss at the end of it, but if it happens… So be it. Just don’t be expecting me to be leading things that way. It’s different on a night out, when you’re 11 rum and Cokes down and one thing leads to another. One minute you’re dancing away to Beyonce and the next thing you know you’re attached to someone’s face, with no idea what their name is, let alone anything really significant.
You see, to me, I like a build up of events. A date or two, drinks, dinner, maybe an afternoon coffee. I want to hear their stories, likes and dislikes and see where things are headed. And hopefully fancy the pants off of them during this of course. A mental image to dwell over on the way home is far more exciting than an ugly nude within a minute of WhatsApp. But surely I’m not the only one? Things just seem so quick these days. Drinks, dinner, let’s move in together. Oh whoops, someone forgot a condom.
Thankfully (ish) for me, I’m pretty used to U-Haul jokes. Lesbians are no strangers to making quick decisions. So, we’ve met twice, does that mean you’re meeting my parents next week, or am I meeting yours?
First you meet on Tinder, then you’re sending ‘snaps’ back and forth like there’s no tomorrow. Come on, there will be nudes heading one way at least before you know it, and you haven’t even met yet. After getting frustrated at Snapchat for making your messages disappear you’ll probably stalk one another on Facebook, maybe Instagram, and see what you’re letting yourself in for. Then comes the number exchange. All of this, and no date in sight. Has that ship sailed you wonder? Maybe, maybe not.
When you finally meet – you know, in real life – you’ve probably already seen them (at least) half naked. What’s the fun in that? Especially if you’re heading out to date, not just fuck.
Are we just far easier than we used to be? Or are we impatient? I’m not sure. Let’s bring back some romance and anticipation instead of bombarding one another with cringe-worthy ‘sexts’ after a few too many lonely nights. I’m no prude, but I don’t want you to be sat on my face five minutes after you’ve gobbled down a steak at dinner on our first date.