I love dates.

I love coffee dates and dinner dates and theater dates and dance dates and study dates and skinny-dipping dates.

I love dates in the summertime with lipstick and a sun-dress, I love winter dates with boots and gloves, and I love autumn and spring dates with all kinds of layers because I’m cold in the wind and hot with anticipation.

I love the getting ready part during which I choose my outfit and my attitude. I love the actual date part during which I get to know the other person, myself, and yet another story. I love the coming home part during which I ponder, process, and plan. (The latter only occurs when there’s a second date involved, which is rare.)

I have dates with all kinds of people: with men and with women, with my Dad and with my granny, with my mailman at the door on Thursdays, with strangers, and with my next-door neighbor. However, intelligent, compassionate, and handsome men with bow-ties do stand out. Every single time…

Yes, I just love dates.

My rationales for going on dates and dating vastly different people are simple, I believe:

I am young, I am free, and I want to get ready. While I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for that one love and that large and loud family and those massive piles of dirty laundry (I believe those phenomena just happen and then you’re either equipped to meet them head-on or you’re simply not…), I know that practice makes perfect. (Idioms don’t just exist – they usually carry a few grains of truth, don’t they…) Surely, perfection is not an ambition of mine in any life areas anyway, but… I want to have failed safely a few times before putting a ten-year investment on the line due to inexperience. Because I pray that when I commit, I commit. Whether with church bells or not. (But most likely, who am I kidding.)

All in all, I enjoy dates so much because of the prickle of romance, the absence of permanence, and the potential of promise. When I go on a date, I make the promise of openness and honesty to myself and the other person, but nothing more. At the very least, I meet somebody new and come home one story richer. And that, I know will get me closer – closer to who I am and my place in the family of things.