It’s just past 3 in the morning, and I’ve spent the last 5 hours of my life watching a mixture of comedy specials on Netflix and Grey’s Anatomy, neither of which relates to what I want to rant about right now. Typically, I try to infuse everything I think and say with comedy, and I have a good reason for this (and it’s not simply because I defuse tension with humor, which, admittedly, I do). Comedy is how I relate to things, how I conceptualize and understand them. In school, we learn that there are different types of learners, which can include visual, kinesthetic, etc. I call myself a comedic learner. In any of my previous lectures, if the professor used humor in the lesson plans, such as telling jokes during class, or mocking historical events, theories, or ideas, the information they were trying to get across just stuck with me, for good. I can remember random facts from my 8th grade history class that are entirely insignificant and irrelevant, and yet, anytime I think back to what I learned, there they are. I don’t often tell anyone in my life about the dark twisties of my past, because I hate putting my weight on others, but on the rare occasion I do, I laugh about it, utilize irony and sarcasm, and tell the stories like I’ve been given my own Netflix special. It’s my way of handling things. In this moment, however, no part of me wants to use humor to talk about this, because I don’t think any part of this is funny. I brought the idea up in a previous post, and I’d really like to elaborate, because I think that someone needs to: dating.

First things first: what is dating? Now, I differ from a lot of my friends in that my definition of dating doesn’t match theirs more often than not. I think that what Americans tend to call “talking” is actually dating. When you are actively going on dates with another human, you are dating that human. It’s not hard to understand. Then, you go from dating someone, to being in a relationship with them, which is one you decide that you aren’t simply getting to know one another anymore, you are committed to each other. Your average American seems to think that dating is a bit too serious, and therefore, they’ve added “talking” to the mix, an idea I still don’t fully understand, but I honestly think is complete bullshit. What, you’re so deathly afraid of commitment that you need a way to say “I’m interested in getting to know you just enough to know if I want to get to know you”? What the fuck?

Partially, I think this stems from the way that your average American sees other people. Spoiler alert: they don’t see them as other people. We reduce others to pieces of who they are, because it’s easier that way. It’s easier to understand their places in our lives, because when it comes down to it, that’s often the only thing we actually care about. How does this person affect me? Hardly do we consider them as a whole, concern ourselves with the intricacies of someone else’s existence, mostly because we’re too concerned with trying to comprehend our own, which is difficult enough as it is. We see someone as a man or a woman, as straight, gay, bisexual, pansexual, transsexual, white, black, rich, poor, us, or them. We see them as this one thing, even though there are probably 500 more interesting things about them. We’re even guilty of it with ourselves. We go to pride parades, or support groups, in which we try to reconcile one aspect of our identity, e.g. being queer or having cancer, with everything else we are, but are being unwittingly counterproductive, because we are there in the first place as a result of identifying as that one piece of ourselves. It’s counterintuitive, problematic, and painful. It’s an impossible solution to an impossible problem. Let’s get down to the real problem with this narrow approach to humanity, though: the fact that once we do that, it’s insanely hard to take it back. It’s as if someone were to tell us that apples and pineapples had switched names; no matter how many times we remind ourselves, we still hear ‘apple’ and think Granny Smith. Once we settle the idea of someone into a role that they play, they become nothing more than that in the grand scheme of our lives. They are, put brusquely, a tool that we use to write our story the way we want.

And we do just that. We use and abuse them. I’ve done it. It’s nothing I’m proud of, and I would oftentimes give anything to take it back because I hate that in their stories, I will never be anything more than that, but I can’t. Neither can you. That’s the real reason I hate dating here, because it’s a direct manifestation of this attitude towards others. In America, dating is a hobby. Funnily enough, the problem with people isn’t what most think it is. There’s no issue with one-night-stands (supposing everyone is going into the situation understanding that there’s not future and you’re merely satisfying a need for sex, because I’m still not down with deception), there’s no problem with having sex with a lot of different people. Slut-shaming is one of the most unreasonable trends I’ve ever encountered. It would be far more logical to shame those who date others to waste time. Those who use others as a means to an end. That’s where the real shame lies. That’s exactly what’s happening here to dating culture.

Don’t look at someone as a hobby. Look at them as an investment. Spend time getting to know them with the intent of keeping that person in your life. Build relationships with others, meaningful connections. It’s not as easy as insignificance, but trust me, it’s so much more valuable. Follow the goddamn Golden Rule: do unto others as you would have them do unto you. You’re as much a part of their story as they are of yours. If you want to be seen as a whole, if you want to make certain that you’re saying everything you need to say and that you’re being heard, you have to learn to listen.