Romance is Terrifying

I used to be a lousy boyfriend.

Obviously, I didn't mean to be. No one wants to be a lousy boyfriend, right? But I really kind of was. (Sorry to everyone who already knew that.)

Here's how it went down. First of all, I've never dated anyone I didn't already know for a few years previously. (And I think we can all agree that's probably, on the whole, for the best, because this.) That let me skip the whole "getting to know you" stage where you actually go on dates.

What's that? You're still supposed to go on dates after that stage? Huh. Well, that's a problem.

See, what I thought I wanted was a "low-maintenance" relationship. What that really meant, of course, was someone who was fine with me putting minimal effort into the relationship. (I didn't think about it that way at the time, obviously, but that's really what it boiled down to.) And so I had to be bludgeoned into doing such basic things as going out to dinner or buying presents for significant occasions. You know, what most people would consider "the absolute bare minimum in a relationship".

How I managed to get away with this for as long as I did still baffles me.

(If you're reading this and know the answer, please note that this is a rhetorical statement and does not require an answer. The management appreciates your cooperation in this matter.)

Part of it is that I didn't date a lot of people, and so I simply didn't know what I was supposed to be doing. Except that's not an excuse, because I knew all too well what I was supposed be doing, thanks to things like rom-coms:

Cute outings.

Fancy dinners.

Sweet, meaningful presents.

Bold, romantic gestures.

PANIC.

As I said before, I can barely manage small talk. How am I going to manage any of this? This is way beyond my emotional abilities. I'd be screwed, except I kept managing to coast by, at least for a while. Somehow. (Again, rhetorical.)

Of course, all things are ready if our minds be so, and sometimes it's just a matter of finding the right way to think about things. (And the proper incentive to make it happen.)

The first time I dated Emily, it lasted a week. We both agreed it was weird (although Emily gets the credit for actually broaching the topic. I probably would have just kept blundering on and hoping it got better). We'd been friends for so long previously that it just felt awkward trying to be anything more.

Of course, it's never that simple. We both still had feelings, but weren't sure about the other, or even how to go about trying again if we decided to. So now what?

Enter The Girl Network. (Seriously, guys, we make fun of how much girls talk, but it really comes in handy sometimes.)

One of our mutual friends (who'd seen first-hand how my last relationship went) talked to Emily. Upon finding out that Emily was interested in trying again, but wanted it to clearly be "dating", rather than the weird halfway limbo of last time, our friend took it upon herself to send me this book.

It's not often that you can point to one single turning point in something, but this book was an epiphany.

Yes, romance is terrifying. There's a huge weight of expectations and conventions and societal norms around "romance". Trying to be "romantic" can make you feel like Atlas.

Trying to be thoughtful, on the other hand, is way easier.

Few people have trouble with the idea of trying to be thoughtful. Being thoughtful isn't scary. Being thoughtful actually feels kind of nice.

And conveniently enough, being thoughtful also turns out to be romantic.

Planning dates? Buying presents? Other stuff? Just put a little thought into it, and voila, romance!

(Of course, thoughtfulness only gets you so far. It's all well and good to think about proposing during a nice dinner at a meaningful restaurant, but actually doing so in the middle of all those people takes a certain kind of guts I just don't have. Oh, well.)

See? Not so scary after all.

(Except for proposing in restaurants. That's still terrifying. And I don't even ever have to try to do it again!)