CCC-Dating
Trigger warning - This CCC email talks about dating. If that in some way bothers you, don’t read it. If that in some way reassures you, or makes your heart beat faster with excitement, curiosity, or anticipatory anxiety, maybe you want to read on. You choose. If it’s too much, delete.
Last week was Valentine’s Day. I was not available, so I didn’t get to send a message. This is last week’s message recycled to this week. Some of you have heard me tell this story. It is a story about my first date with the person who eventually became my spouse. But this story is about dating.
Dating is this thing we used to do back in the day. Like boomer, or Gen Xerox kind of back in the day. And dating, as you can guess, starts with a date.
A date is not a meal with friends. It is not casual. It is not really a group event. You can’t just spontaneously “end up” on a date; it is intentional. And if there is any confusion about whether it is a date or not, you are not doing it right. [Side note - while this story is about boy-girl dating it can be about girl-girl, boy-boy, or girl-boy. But it is about two people no matter what. Two people that might “like” each other.] [Other side note - Back in the day, “like” is not a button on a social media app. It means you are curious about possibly being in a relationship with someone. I know, I know. Weird.]
So we didn’t have NSO at the beginning of each year, so we didn’t exactly have all the Penn-sponsored social events to get to know somebody. You had to make it happen on your own. This is the first teaching point. You don’t have to depend on organizations to have a social life. You just have to put yourself out there.
Instead of NSO, we just had early move-in for certain people. I don’t quite remember, but I think it was for anyone; they just didn’t tell you about it. So I moved in early to Stouffer College House. The real Stouffer. The one we call Stouffer-Stouffer now. Mayer, of Stouffer Mayer fame, was not part of Stouffer. It was the dorm for married graduate students with children. It used to have a children’s playground behind it so that the children of the grad students could play. The jungle gym is gone, but ZBT still has a basketball court there. I guess it’s still a playground. Anyway, I moved in early because I needed to take some placement tests and figure out some classes.
Adele moved in early because she lived in Brazil and back in the day, there were not many flights from Brazil. Brazil was undergoing terrible inflation and they had to replace their currency like four times. Cruzeiro -> Cruzado -> cruzeiro novo -> cruzado novo. Maybe I got that order wrong. It was a mess. They just hacked zeroes off the currency and changed the name. Businesses started paying in food instead of money because between the time you worked the hours and the time you got paid, your money was worth nothing. So hourly workers worked for a pound of flour, sugar, oil, or meat. Or a basket of all of them and some bread. Or fresh vegetables. And CEOs spent half their time buying groceries every day so they would have enough for pay day. Anyway, there weren’t many flights so she moved in early. Her sister, who went to Lafayette, also came to Stouffer for a couple days because Lafayette College didn’t have early move-in.
The first night, there were eight of us in Stouffer so we decided to go out to Baskin Robbins for ice cream. Baskin Robbins was in a building about where CVS is now on Walnut Street between 39th and 40th. There was a movie theater behind it. The ice cream was the best on campus. They had 31 flavors, or that’s what their logo said (look it up). The eight of us walked and talked, sort of like going to Kiwi with friends, and I thought Adele and her sister were wonderful. I “liked” them. (see above) They were tanned from time on the beach, their hair was light from the sun. They had all these exotic clothes. They were from Italy, or Brazil, or France. This was everything that a Penn education was cracked up to be, opening your mind to the world. I was excited because I might be able to date a global citizen. How cool would that be? [Back in the day cool meant really good. It did not mean a temperature or the status of an argument (see also cooling off).]
I thought, should I ask one out on a date? Out to dinner? Out to a movie at the Eric movie theater?
But I didn’t. It was too scary. Is that how I wanted to be known from my first day at Penn? How do you say it? Cringe? So we became friends.
Eventually Adele’s sister left for Lafayette and we formed a friend group in Stouffer. And we hung out and we went out to dinner and breakfast and lunch. Penn dining was only open five days a week so we had to find our food every meal on the weekends. We would often go to where Huntsman Hall now is. There was a low-rise strip mall with the Penn bookstore at Locust, then Fiesta Pizza [Fiesta III I think is still on Baltimore Avenue], and then Kelly and Cohen’s, a bagel place. Life was good. But there was something missing. Adele was the coolest person in the world. She was in Wharton and I was “just” a College student. She spoke four languages. She had flown across oceans 100 times probably. I really wanted to go with her.
That is not a typo. That’s what people did. Not when they were just friends, not when they had a destination, not when they were hooking up [called a one night stand back then]. After going on a couple dates you would be “dating” someone. After dating someone for a little while, or maybe as the first question, you would ask “Do you want to go with me?” And if you got a yes, you would then be “going together.” You would say, “Adele is going with me” or “Adele and Kent are going together.” It was cute. And it was exciting if you were one of the people going together. It was cool. You were cool.
Man I wanted to go with her. But to do that I needed to date her and to date her I needed to ask her out on a date. Of course, she could ask me out on a date, but that is for a later story. For now, I really wanted to ask her on a date. A movie was too high pressure. So I needed to ask her to dinner.
This was HIGH risk. What if she said no? What if she thought I was a loser? What if she laughed at me and told her friends? She was out of my league. I had never traveled. I was a high-scholarship kid. I had multiple jobs and took out loans to pay for Penn and her parents were just paying for her. How could I afford a dinner date? Where would we go? It could ruin our friendship. It could make me into a loser. I couldn’t do it. That was just too much.
But that is what life and adulting is about. Learning to tolerate risk. Learning to live with uncertainty. This is really the only teaching point in this CCC message. You shouldn’t be risk-seeking; that is for creepy people when it comes to dating. You can’t be risk-avoidant; we are a social species. And there is never a right answer. There is always uncertainty. If there is not uncertainty you are not achieving everything you can. You are not innovating. You are not reaching your potential. You have to be risk-tolerant.
So in October, I asked her out to dinner. As in, “Would you like to go out to dinner with me on Saturday night?” One evening, we had finished eating at dining. And I just said it. And then I waited for an answer.
When you take a risk, the time period between the risk and the resolution can feel like forever. You can fill yourself with self-doubt. You can fill yourself with momentary pride. You can feel your heart rate race. You can hold your breath. You can wait a little longer. You can wonder if maybe you should have asked that person out in a different class, or that person from home. Or maybe you could have just converted a weekend dinner of hoagies at Wawa into a date [not allowed, see above]. There is such confusion for a second, a minute. There is such anticipation. It’s horrible. And yet, that is the excitement in life. You take a risk and sometimes you will get a NO and sometimes you will get a yes. I waited, and then she said yes.
What? She said yes? Now I would have to come up with a date. There was Le Bec Fin downtown but that was the equivalent of a $300 meal. Earning $3.15/hour after taxes I would need to work for 6 weeks. I would need to take a student loan. I couldn’t go there. But I also couldn’t go to Wawa. That would be a terrible date. Arrrgh.
In the International House there was a cafeteria restaurant called A Bone Pan. It was like Au Bon Pain in pronunciation but more like a steakhouse diner cafeteria for food. It was good burgers, and steaks, and sides. Like a fancy restaurant but a cafeteria. They served beer and wine there too and they served beer to undergraduates. They didn’t check ID like some of the tablecloth restaurants. So if I was going to be disinhibited and Adele was going to be disinhibited, we could get an alcoholic beverage there. I would take her there.
The Saturday came, I think it was actually October 15th, maybe the 22nd. I put on my best cargo pants, grey, a lightweight fabric almost like a parachute fabric. I put on my check shirt. I still prefer check shirts today. I combed my hair. Shaved. Combed my hair some more. Got the comb wet to smooth my hair. I was ready. I was looking cool. This date was going to change my life. Or at least my reputation at Penn. I was going to be dating someone. Maybe. If I could just make the night work.
I picked up Adele at her room and we went down to the Stouffer lobby. Out on the patio it was still light out and we bumped into a friend. They asked what we were doing. I put my hands in my pockets and slouched a little, trying to be cool, chill. Nonchalant. Aura. Whatever. “We’re going to A Bone Pan for dinner.” “Niiice,” came the response. And now the word was out. Adele and Kent were on a date.
If you have ever been to Stouffer-Stouffer, you know there is an elevated two-story-high patio in the back. It is like a two-sided courtyard. There is a long stairway that comes down in sections. Adele and I started down the stairs. We passed another friend. Said hi. I was cool. Walking with my hands in my cargo pants. I mean it was a first date and if they weren’t in my pants I would have to find the right moment to touch her hand and start holding hands. But that raised my anxiety level and made my heart race and made me all confused and excited and I don’t know what. And so I drove my hands deeper into my pockets and I walked with a saunter down the steps with my date, Adele. Someone who one day I could go with and if it worked out I could ask her parents if I could propose and if they said yes I could propose and if she said yes we could get married and if we got married we could have kids and live in a nice suburban house and drive a fancy car and watch TV together every Friday and Saturday night and maybe some weekday sitcoms like MASH.
We reached the top of the last set of steps. My toe caught an edge. My body folded forward in half locking my hands in my pockets and down I fell onto my head and shoulder. With my hands unable to stop me I rolled over my head and shoulders and landed on my back. With all the momentum I had I then rolled forward again from my back and landed on my face again at the bottom of the stairs.
Adele screamed a little. I tore my favorite check shirt. I got up swallowing a scream and a cry and suppressing the pain in my head, my right foot, and my right shoulder. I had a scrape on my shin that was bleeding a little bit. Adele asked if I was ok. And crossed her arms. I said I was fine and that we should go to dinner.
We got to dinner. Adele’s arms were crossed the whole time. I tried to act nonchalant. She ordered a burger, no sides. I said let’s get a beer or wine. She said no. I said it would make the date nice or fun. She said no. I said they serve minors. She said she didn’t want anything but if she had to she would get a Coke. I got a root beer.
We ate our burgers. Drank our Coke. I tried to make lively conversation. She answered with one-word answers. She was done. The date was done. I messed up.
We would have had more fun if we just got hoagies at Wawa.
The dinner part of the date lasted 20 minutes. She said she wanted to go back to Stouffer. We went back to Stouffer. I said I had a nice time and I would like to go on another date. She said she was not interested in fewer words. I think it was something like, “I’m not.”
It was clear that the risk did not pay off. She was not interested in another date. I failed. I literally and figuratively fell flat on my face.
I stayed single. No dating, no going with, no relationship, no partner. A single guy who falls down Stouffer steps. Clumsy. A Clutz.
Come to the Mezzanine for tea and hot chocolate(while supplies last) and a few snacks. It’s a snow day. 9PM Sunday night, tonight.
BTW- this is late winter snow that is near the southern rain/snow line. That means it will probably be “wet” snow. That means you can make snowmen and have snowball fights. It is not as good for snow angels. This snow storm, make a snow man, or an igloo, or have a snowball fight. Or laugh adn roll around with friends. And if it is deep enough, eat some. Snow is delicious. Try it.
So go out and have fun in it. BUT, you will get wet. And cold and wet is not good. So make sure you can come back in to Harnwell and warm up.
be well
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