I was having a good time. Laughing in between scenes of the production. Reminiscing the adventures of the past week. Sharing stories of friends we had yet to catch up with. Our friendship was always chilled and natural. Laughing, reminiscing, and sharing was instinctive over the past months of knowing each other. But today was different. There was a slight shift. I thought to myself:

“Prosecco seems a bit over-the-top for the afternoon, but I’m not complaining. I mean, why not celebrate a Saturday afternoon at a play? He did already preorder it and it’s prosecco, for goodness sake!”

We returned to the highly romantic performance, and I found myself taken away by it all.  Being emotionally compelled by the movement, the music, and the visual profession of one of my favorite forms of the arts, I completely forgot the spontaneous shift I had felt prior to the show. Or so I thought…

“But wait! There was that lingering-more-than-usual, hand-on-the-back while we walked into the performance, the exaggerated expression of how good I looked (several times), and the extra smiles. 

Wait. Am I on a date? 

No! I cannot be. We are just friends. And he didn’t say this was a date.”

I resumed “natural” interactions—laughing, reminiscing, sharing—and tried to disregard the nudging voice at the back of my head asking me all of these questions. The performance ended, but he suggested cocktails. What reason did I have to say no? We were just friends. We didn’t normally do that, but it felt natural. Right? Until I thought:

“But then again, I wouldn’t mind going on a date with him. He’s kind and generous, and it’s not like I hadn’t noticed that Ryan Reynolds hair and smoldering smile.”

Hours past and as per usual, we were still having a great time chatting about life. I was possibly flirting more than usual, you know, to reciprocate what I was sensing. We ordered some appetizers and he insisted on paying, giving me that over-the-shoulder, cheeky smile when I objected.

“Yeah. I’m okay with this. I wonder what will happen at the end of… whatever this is? Will he ask me on a real date? 

What will I say? 

Is it even worth the risk of our friendship?

Breathe. Just play it cool. Enjoy the time together. Don’t get ahead of yourself. 

Laugh. Reminisce. Share.”

Then the…whatever-you-call-it…came to a close. A play, prosecco, food, cocktails and hours of talking later, he leaned in and… nope, just a hug. Then he delivered a, “See you later,” and, in disbelief, I watched him walk away while I now had to recover from my emotional whiplash!

Are you exhausted? I’m exhausted just recollecting this one, and many similar “events” since. Is the “coming of age” Sneak Attack Date becoming normal? Where the stereotypical “dating” actions of one person have emotional ramifications of confusion on another all the while only on a declared “hangout”.

Now, in this particular case, I was on a what I like to call the I Need Emotional Comfort date. You know, the one where you don’t have a significant other to rely on so you pull out all the stops with your friends of “possible interest”. But then it could have been I’m Testing the Waters date. It’s the one where someone may be interested in a romantic relationship, but isn’t sure, so they take the “interest” on a tester date—a “date” before the date. Both are Sneak Attack Dates, leaving one or both of the parties confused. And in my case, no words were spoken (plausible denial?), leaving confusion and a Charlie Chaplin silent film replay of the day’s events in my head.

If this is hitting home with some of you, do not fret! There’s an easy solution. There’s a formula that was started decades ago. It began as a way to bring people together—to create a sense of security and understanding. It takes courage and boldness with a dash of depth and trust. It has brought down empires and honored individuals. It fights and conquers yet calms and ponders. Are you ready for it? Write this down. It’s two words…

Honest Communication. 

Shock and awe. I know. Groundbreaking! 

But all jokes aside, as I reminisced on these Sneak Attack Dates and spoke with both men and women about their own experiences (yep, there may be an epidemic!?), I realized the simplicity of being audacious and asking, “Is this a date?” It takes courage, because it makes you vulnerable to rejection (even if you aren’t interested), but you can never underestimate the power of clarity and understanding. It’s better than the Charlie Chaplin silent film replay of events and never-ending dialogue of questions and speculations in your head. Am I right?

Now, I’ve also asked this question and have been left still confused. For example,

“Is this a date?” asks unsuspecting friend.

“No, it’s not a date,” says not-so-sneak-attack stager.

Then “stager” continues to treat you to plays, presecco, compliments, food, cocktails, and hours of talking. I know I shouldn’t complain, but it’s confusing! If that’s not a date, what’s a real date like? To which Honest Communication says (and I wish I should have said), “I feel like this is a date,” or “to me, this feels like a date.” I cannot begin to imagine the confusion (let alone energy) that may have been saved by the simplicity of these statements. 

Also, there’s candor in humbly accepting an answer we do not like. Communication is still a two-way street, folks. There’s an ownership we all have in Honest Communication. And if we don’t agree with the response, then the ball is in our court. Own the Honest Communication and move on, or fight for it!

There are many attractive qualities to “fighting for someone”, but the key is always (not just some of the time) and above all else pulling Aretha Franklin into the mix and R-E-S-P-E-C-Ting each other! We can only do so much as perfectly-imperfect and imperfectly-perfect people. The least we can do is respect each other.

Imagine, if you will, you’re out with a friend of possible (or impossible) interest. Then suddenly, there’s a shift. You’re on a Sneak Attack Date. The questions and bemusement start flooding your mind. And then, the moment arrives. It’s time for that age-old Honest Communication. After talking yourself out of it several times, you choose to own it. You take the plunge. You open your mouth and ask, “Wait. Am I on a date?”

Epidemic solved. Thank you, Honest Communication. You win again! Or at least, in the Sneak Attack dating game. Until next time…

Written by: Kaila H. Johnson