You know, I usually blow my mom off when she tells me that my ‘lingo’ is different from hers. By lingo, I mean how my friends and I refer to guys as ‘hot,’ or to dating as ‘going out.’ My mom’s preferred terms are ‘dreamy’ and ‘going steady,’ which I choose not to comment on (but seriously though…dreamy?). It’s not that her words are that strange, it’s that she has such a hard time figuring out mine. She can’t even grasp the meaning of ‘going out.’ When I use the term she just looks confused and then asks, “does that mean they’re going on a date?” When I try to explain, she gets even more lost. “Wait,” she asks, “so they’re friends? Is this that friends-with-benefits thing?” No, I tell her, this is NOT a friends-with-benefits thing. This is a going-steady-wear-my-class-pin kind of a thing. But she just can’t seem to get it.
A while ago, I would scoffed at my mother’s confusion, before confidently stating that everyone my age knew the difference between ‘going out’ and ‘hanging out.’ But lately, I’ve begun to realize just how complicated the terms are. Take ‘going out’ for example. It means going steady, or becoming a permanent thing. Unless it’s used in the – “we’re going out this weekend sense.” Then it means dating. Now dating always means dating, but hanging out can also mean dating, or it can just mean, “let’s go to the movies and hang out – as friends.” Understand why I’m starting to sympathize with my mother? Although I still doubt ‘dreamy’ will ever make a comeback.
Let me tell you a story. It’s a Thursday, after school. I’ve just gotten home from dance class; I’m tired, and looking forward to the weekend. The phone rings. It’s for me. My mom tells me it’s Tim, a good friend, but not necessarily a ‘call me up on a school night’ friend. Curious now, I get on the phone. Tim asks me if I want to ‘hang out’ on Friday - go to the movies and what not. I say sure…and then ask if he’s called Andy and Kate and Leah yet. At first he’s quiet, and then says he was just about to. I say cool. The next day at school I see all my friends. “Hey,” I ask them, “are you guys going to the movies with Tim and I tonight?” None of them know what I’m talking about. At this point, I’m starting to get a little suspicious.
Tim calls me at eight. I ask him who else I should pick up before I go to his house. Again, he’s quiet. Then he tells me no one else can come. Apparently, they all had other plans. Fine, whatever. I push my suspicious thoughts to the back of my mind. Tim and I are friends; this is just us hanging out. I head out to meet him.
At the theater, things seem perfectly normal. Tim and I buy separate tickets, separate snacks, everything. Once we’re seated, we try to answer those movie trivia questions. I rule at them…Tim, not so much. The theater gets dark. I realize how aware I am of Tim sitting next to me, his thigh almost touching mine. The feeling makes my suspicions return. My thoughts run like this: This is really date-like. If he tries to do the yawn, stretch, arm over the shoulder thing I am so out of here. God, who am I kidding. Tim wouldn’t want to date me. We’re friends! This is a friends thing! Ok, was that his hand? That wasn’t his hand. He wouldn’t touch my leg. I’m so conceited. He was probably just reaching for popcorn…By the time the lights are up, I have no idea what’s going on.
But then it all becomes frighteningly clear. Driving home, we’re flagged down by a van. As I pull over, I realize it’s Andy (Tim’s best friend), with about six other guys. In a flurry of confusion, half the people who were in Andy’s car are now in my mom’s minivan with me…including Andy. And, somehow, Tim is in the other car. Before I can even put on my blinker, Andy and his friends inform me they’ve been following us around all night, trying to crash our date. “Oh my god!,” they scream. “You so went out with Tim. He spent 2 hours picking out a shirt! He told us he wants to go out with you…like go-out-go-out,” and so on and so on. I, however, am sitting in a state of shock. Date? Date?!?!? We were doing a just friends hang out kind of a thing!! When did this get labeled a date?
That night, Tim got dropped off by the other car, and I went home confused, bewildered and mildly sick. I mean I like Tim, but I never wanted to date him. I also never wanted to jeopardize our friendship. Stuck between a rock and a hard spot, I did the only foreseeable thing: I pretended the entire night never happened. I guess it worked, because Tim and I went back to being ‘just friends.’ But the incident made me realize two things. One, when a friend purposefully tries to get you out alone with him, his intentions aren’t always just-friendish. And two, my mom is right about the lingo of my generation. It’s flawed. Very, very, flawed.
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