Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader When It Comes to Dating?
By Kimberly Dunbar

On my ride home from class tonight, I was thinking about how simple things used to be when we were children. There were nap times, and play times, and mandatory recesses.

Things remained relatively simple as we got a little older, too. We developed a simple way of communicating with each other in certain situations:

Amazingly, this approach was very successful. No one’s feelings got hurt if the other checked the ‘no’ box because one could immediately rip up the paper and discard of the rejection and all would be forgotten. You could go back to ignoring each other peacefully.

There was none of this business we often refer to as “shades of gray.” The word “complicated” wasn’t in our vocabulary (literally).

So at what age did the whole boy/girl thing get so messy and so darn difficult? Sitting next to someone at lunch no longer makes him your automatic boyfriend anymore ~ heck, even dating someone for three years now doesn’t even make him your automatic boyfriend either! There’s no telling when he’ll leave you for the girl in the pigtails swinging on the monkey bars.

I guess the real question is not when and how, but rather why dating as a grown-up is so difficult. I’d rather sit in a dentist’s chair than try to figure out if a guy likes me back or not. It’s no wonder books like He’s Just Not That Into You land on the New York Times’ Best-Seller List for weeks at a time.

The difference between dating now and then is that the games we play as adults are far less amusing and innocent. The courting process is like a grown up game of Duck, Duck, Goose or Freeze Tag ~ just as frustrating and someone rarely wins even after hours of running around in confusing circles.

I resolved to my roommate that this weekend I am going to revert back to the childhood spirit of communication. I am going to slip my crush a note written on a bar napkin (hey, I need to keep it a little grown up):If he checks no, then I’ll know. Then I can rip it up and continue on with my life and pretend it didn’t happen.

It will be like being picked last in kickball all over again. I’ll just go play jump-rope instead.