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Debunking the Three-Date Rule

Having a script for how we’re supposed to behave can be a great security blanket. Someone asks, “How are you?,” and you say, “Fine.” You see someone you haven’t seen in a while, and you say, “Well, it was great running into you,” at the end of the conversation. These social scripts smooth out social interactions.

Limiting the possibilities for our interactions to these scripts can cause trouble, though, and the biggest arena I see this trouble play out is in the world of sexual relationships. The dating world is ripe with confusion regarding how we’re supposed to behave versus how we need to actually behave in order to have healthy and satisfying relationships. In the realm of dating, the timing of sexual acts is frequently seen as one of the indicators of how serious a relationship is, or as a predictor of how long the relationship will last (i.e. “why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?”). So let’s just take a few minutes to debunk one of the most common dating scripts: the three-date rule.

What is the Three-Date Rule and Who Uses It?

The three-date rule states that one must wait three dates to have sex with a new partner. This rule plays on some very basic assumptions we make about sexuality in general. First off: this rule applies almost exclusively to heterosexual people. Queer folks have their own stereotypical rules of dating (like gay men and one-night-stands, or lesbians and U-Hauls*), most of which contradict heteronormative sex rules.

Responsibility and Shame

Because this rule applies mostly to straight folks, it heightens the gendered expectations in relationships. The three-date rule plays on the idea that men always want sex, while women are the gatekeepers, which puts women in charge of men’s sexuality and causes a whole slew of problems. If women are in charge of whether or not men have sex, it takes all the responsibility for acting like compassionate human beings out men’s hands and likens them to animals, acting out of instinct and completely incapable of reason. Besides being demeaning to men, this mindset also supports rape culture, because it creates the reasoning that if a man rapes a woman, then she must have done something to open the gate. She must have flirted with him, or worn a short skirt and heels, or taken the ring off her finger—because those are signs that “gate is open—man can have sex now!” (Do me a favor and read that in a caveman voice, because that’s exactly how devolved this mindset is.)

Another problem caused by the notion of women as gatekeepers of sex is the denial of female sexuality. Men are not the only people made stupid by the human drive for sex. Many of us have felt that brain-fog when our crush in junior high noticed us, or that rush of “I don’t care what happens afterward” right before that first kiss. At the very least, we’ve seen people swoon over each other in movies. It’s a human thing, not a guy thing. Female bodies are actually more responsive to sexual stimuli, and denying that lends support to the shame surrounding female sexuality. Imagine taking shame out of the equation surrounding sex—how much freedom would come from it?

Now take that lack of shame and put it into the three-date rule. It doesn’t fit, does it? That’s because the three-date rule is centered around “appropriate” and “proper” times for women to say yes to sex, when in reality there is no “proper” time. There’s only the time that fits well for that given relationship. For some partners, sex is the first thing to happen, and the getting-to-know-you bit happens much later. For other couples, one or both partners need an established emotional intimacy before anything remotely sexual gets introduced. And for a large amount of the U.S. dating population, we need something in between those two. Hard and fast rules don’t work when we apply them to very individual and unique contexts.

To Each Their Own

I like to think of each new relationship in my life like water: it seeks its own level. Each relationship is like a different container, but ultimately the surface is level because I’m seeking the same respect and love. Sometimes that love comes in the form of sex, sometimes in the form of abstinent cuddles. Ultimately, whether or not I have sex with someone depends greatly on a number of factors, predominantly chemistry and trust, not on how many dates we’ve had.

Side Note: the following are tales of three loves. I am purposely avoiding gendered pronouns because no matter how enlightened you are, everyone puts gendered expectations and explanations onto simple “he/she” language. I’m disallowing you, dear reader, to assume I’m treating a given partner a certain way based on their gender as part of my exercise in debunking this dating rule.

The first lover, I hated right off the bat. I thought they were an arrogant know-it-all, and I couldn’t have been less impressed with them. A year later, we met in a different context, and I found that we actually had a lot of similar life experiences. We got to talking and I loved the way they thought about things. I started running into them at clubs, and finally one night, amidst the pulsing bass and the crush of hot bodies, we kissed. And, oh my—that kiss. That’s how it went for several months: meet up with friends at clubs, dance, kiss, go home. Then, one night in November, our friends were heading out and I knew: tonight was going to be the night. …which frankly sucked, because I was sick with a cold, and I knew that I should be home in bed, having soup and going to sleep early. But this person wanted me to come out—texted me specifically to make sure I was going—and I knew that if I went, I’d get laid. We met at the club, we danced all night, we drove back to their place, and we spent the night entangled in each other. No official dinner-and-a-movie dates involved. We’d spent copious hours in discussion groups, in hangouts with friends, in all the getting-to-know-you moments with other people around, and it wasn’t necessary for us to date before having sex. I knew how they took care of their sexual health, how many partners they’d had, and their STI status before we had sex, and to me, that was more important than waiting for three “official” dates.

I met the second lover through the first. My first impression of this lover was that I wanted nothing more than spend many long hours having glorious, athletic sex with them—they were the athlete, not me. I started getting to know this one very slowly as the end of my first sexytimes week with my first lover rolled around. My first time with this lover was actually a threesome with my first lover as well, which was nice because I was still recovering from being sick and having someone else there gave me a little bit of the rest I needed. Two years of having sex later, my second lover and I finally went on a date. But we did it completely backwards from how dates are “supposed” to go. You know that script for dinner-movie-sex-walk of shame? I went over to their place the night before, and we had sex, started the movie, slept, woke up, had sex again, showered, and then went out for breakfast and a walk around the park. For us, the sex needed to happen first in order to get to the point where we felt comfortable enough talking about the rest of life.

I met my third lover, the most recent, through a mutual friend. This lover was just out of a long-term relationship, and I figured I was going to be the rebound. We started out having chaperoned dates with our mutual friend as the buffer, because we did not know each other at all. A few dates in, we took off the training wheels and went on our first un-chaperoned date. I remember sitting on my hands so that we would actually talk. Similar to my second lover, the chemistry between us was electric and I found it difficult to do the get-to-know-you bit with my tongue down their throat. We started having manual sex before they were tested, and after we knew the results, we proceeded on to the many other types of sex.

I specify manual sex here to highlight another shortcoming of the three-date rule: it doesn’t define “sex.” Many people tend to think of “getting laid” as penis-in-vagina sex, but there are a whole range of sex acts that can be considered “sex” (i.e. manual, oral, anal). What one person classifies as “sex” may be completely different and no less valid than what another person calls “sex,” and waiting on one type in particular doesn’t mean you aren’t having sex in general.

Looking back at the rest of my dating life, I have never followed the three-date rule, and you know what? I’m still here, I’m still standing, and I’m only as slutty as I call myself. I am living proof that the timing of sex between two people does not revolve around what other people think. I expect my partners to be responsible for their own sex drive, and respectful of my humanity, and I think that’s a much better rule for when to have sex than measuring out three dates.

* Author’s Note: The jokes typically run along these lines: “What does a gay man bring on a second date? …What second date?” (Because gay male culture is stereotyped as only capable of one-night stands.) “What does a lesbian bring on a second date? A U-Haul.” (Because lesbians are notorious for moving in together very quickly after starting to date.) Warning: if you are straight and you tell these jokes, that is considered homophobic. 

Photo by Sara Slattery

Photo by Sara Slattery

How to Get a Nifty First Date

Raise your hand if you’ve had a bad first date? I’m guessing that most of you have. Well, my friends, so have I—many, in fact. And it is through these trials and tribulations that I have come to realize a good date is all in the preparation. You don’t have leave the fate of your date up to, well, fate. There is a lot that you can do to ensure a more successful date before departing on your romantic rendezvous. Let me tell you how with a few of my misadventures in the dating world.

Note: These lessons are from my experience and thus lean towards the heterosexual point of view, but I hope these tips can apply to all kinds of relationships!

1) Be clear that it’s a date.

You know how, in movies or TV, someone seems to always have the tenacity to ask “Wait, are you asking me out on a date?” with a sly smile and a knowing look? Well, I’d never have the guts to ask that and, if I did, it would probably be a shy awkwardly stuttered sentence like: “Date. ME?” If you’re like me, then it can be hard to be sure you’re either going on a date or (often in my case) clarifying that you are in fact asking someone on a date. For the latter, I find asking someone to an obvious date-like activity, say dinner and movie for two, is helpful. However, that doesn’t always work. I bring you exhibit A:

I had a crush on a guy who was kind of a friend, or at least had dated one of my friends (always a good place to start). We had started hanging out and I wanted to progress things to the next level, so I thought, Hey, you know what’s a great idea? Asking him to a movie via text, that’s what. This was my first mistake. A text is never a good way to transition a friendship to romance, let alone obviously ask someone out without the gratuitous use of winky faces. So, when I showed up for this so-called “date,” guess who was surprised to see only me standing at the door and tried to invite his roommate along? I’ll give you a hint: it wasn’t me. If you would like to avoid this fate, I suggest you make your intentions as clear as you can.

2) You don’t have to lay it all out there, but don’t be completely opaque.

As you prepare for your date, you might find yourself worrying over what you’ll talk about. What if you say something awkward? Or you don’t have anything to say? Or, in your fear of silence, you talk too much? This last one is my biggest downfall and why I advocate keeping the first date light and fun: no midnight confessions or blood oaths. Now, I am not saying for you to hide your true self away until you’re sure he/she likes you and then reveal your deep-seated love of unicorns. All I mean is you don’t have to tell all on the first date. Take it from someone who invited a guy on a first date to a poetry slam and thought it would be a good idea to sign up. I had just met this guy, and here I was standing in front of an audience performing a poem about my parent’s relationship while he squirmed in his seat. Talk about vulnerability. You do not need to do this. In fact, just don’t.

Though, you do need to be somewhat vulnerable. You have to share something about yourself, but more importantly you have to reveal your emotions. The only way the person is going to know that you like him/her is by showing it. Now, I am horrible at flirting, so I usually go with the more direct “I had a good time. Let’s do this again” approach. But even that can be confusing if interpreted as a line. So make sure to send a flirty text later or, better yet, set up the next date. Nothing says “I like you” like I want to see you again and maybe this time I’ll tell you about my unicorn obsession.

3) It doesn’t have to be romantic.

The first date is exactly what it is: a first date. Whether you’re looking for your soul mate or just someone to date for a while, the first date is like a test drive. And since it’s just a test drive, you don’t need to go full throttle (unless you really want to: #punalwaysintended). What I mean is it’s perfectly fine if you do not touch on the first date (I would consider that normal for meeting a stranger).

In the past, I had this ideal that the best dates were the sweep-you-off-your-feet romantic ones and every time I went on a date that didn’t reach those standards, it felt like a failure. And yet many of my most romantic dates ended up being assholes later or just looking for sex. One guy invited me to the top of his roof and as we were sitting there overlooking the sunset, he swept my hair out of my face and asked me what I wanted most in the world right now. I kissed him because that seemed like the most romantic gesture. Guess who never heard back from him? It was a great moment, but it taught me to re-evaluate my standards. These days, I don’t go into the first date expecting to find sexual tension right away; I save that for later. Right now, I just want to know if we can hold a conversation without it being painful.

4) Check your expectations

And this brings me to my final pre-date prep tip: remind yourself that you don’t have to decide right away. As I said, this is a first date, not a life-time commitment, so don’t treat it as such. If you are unsure about how you feel at the end of the date, that’s fine. You can go on another date and continue to test the waters. On the other side, if you find yourself falling for someone on the first date, you should also check yourself.

I have been on both sides of this spectrum. On one hand, I stopped seeing a guy because I thought I didn’t have time to date anyone I wasn’t sure about and in retrospect realized he could have been a great match for me. And then I have gotten my heart broken over a single date. It didn’t help that I was already obsessed with him before I even went on the date, but I could have saved myself some pain if I had followed my own advice.

This is why I say I don’t believe in love at first sight, but I do believe in heartbreak at first kiss. Be careful with your hearts, my friends. And try to remember: it’s just a first date. So have fun!

Photo by Sara Slattery

Photo by Sara Slattery

The Friend Breakup

All relationships come to an end. Parent-child relationships, sibling relationships, romantic relationships and friendships: all end at some point. Sometimes they end with death, sometimes they slowly peter out over time and distance, sometimes they end in a fierce, burning crash, and sometimes they come to a pointed, purposeful conclusion. A break-up. With the end of especially important relationships comes grief: a complex emotional process. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross has outlined five stages of the grieving process, which are typically listed in the order in which they’re “supposed” to happen, but really, these stages mix and mingle as much as cows caught in a tornado. Friend breakups may feel especially difficult because we don’t have a script for those. At the end of a romantic relationship, we have a whole potential process that can be lined out: lots of crying followed by throwing oneself into work or exercise or school, and then, finally, we get back on the dating horse, usually in the form of a rebound. But friend breakups don’t have a script—“friends forever” right? This can leave a person wondering how to deal with the loss of such an important relationship. I’ve had a few significant friend breakups in my life, and I’d like to share the process I’ve gone through, in hopes that it may help someone else out there dealing with something similar. My process pretty easily follows the Kubler-Ross model, but it starts before the actual end of the relationship.

Denial: Denial comes first for me. It’s when I’m feeling hurt in the relationship, but I keep excusing my friend’s behavior. “She didn’t mean to imply that I’m totally unimportant to her.” “He’s not trying to hurt me; that’s just how he is. I know he loves me.” Part of me knows I’m being treated like crap, but I don’t want to acknowledge it, because I don’t want to think that I’m the kind of person who lets her friends treat her like crap. Denial pairs well in a circular relationship with Anger.

Anger: “I can’t believe she blew off my birthday/ holiday/ graduation party to console her ex! They’re broken up, for f***’s sake!” “I freaking hate him. I hate him I hate him I hate him.” This emotion usually follows some break in the rules of our friendship (like, Rule #1: don’t treat your friends like crap), and is usually accompanied by me yelling into my pillow or journaling swear words fiercely in red pen. I tend to avoid people when I’m angry at them, because I know I run the risk of acting like one of the Plastics from Mean Girls. I take time to simmer down, and then when my friend and I sit down to hash out whatever it was that triggered my anger, I run into Bargaining.

Bargaining: “Okay, we talked about it, and it should feel ….resolved? But it doesn’t. Yes, it does—we talked about it.” In this stage, I argue with myself over whether or not our latest fight was productive. What frequently happens with my dysfunctional friendships here is that I express my concerns, the other person hears them out without actually listening, and I make the mistake of thinking everything’s going to get better, and that whatever disrespectful thing happened in the first place won’t happen again. Sometimes I even agree that I somehow caused my friend to treat me badly, and I think that if I just don’t do whatever my friend will treat me better. Denial-Anger-Bargaining make up the circle that usually has to repeat itself several times before I catch on to the pattern and realize the ugly truth: we have to break up.

Grief: This is where I finally acknowledge that the bad stuff isn’t changing, and may even be getting worse, and I finally call it quits. I meet up with my friend (ideally in neutral territory, but sometimes my place or theirs) and say, “Look, I’ve had these problems with our friendship. I don’t feel loved/ respected/ wanted/ cared for, and I think we need to break up.” Yes, I use the words “break up”. The friendships I have ended purposefully have been best friend relationships—people that at times felt like family. Friendships of lesser intensity usually just taper off of their own accord; it’s only the very intense, very unhealthy friendships I find require an actual break up. During the Grief stage, I experience a lot of sadness and a large sense of loss, but it usually runs parallel to Acceptance.

Acceptance: I know, underneath all the pain and sadness, that I made the right decision. I keep making and re-making a commitment to myself that I deserve to be treated with respect and kindness, and I know that by ending this friendship, I’m renewing that commitment. I know I’ll be better for it, and who knows, if we both change enough, maybe someday we might even be able to be friends again, but I don’t hold out for this possibility.

As I grieve and accept the end of the friendship, I usually circle back around to anger at least a few times. I think that’s normal, because I’m still hurting. Ultimately, though, I can come to a place of acceptance without the grief and anger, and that’s the final, healed stage for me.

Each of my ex-friends has reacted differently to my actions throughout these stages. The first one, before I had all the savvy communication skills I do now, was probably the messiest. I brought up that I felt like she treated me like I was not important, but I didn’t do it very well, which let her brush it off. Finally, when she said something blatantly homophobic (I’m queer), I got angry and left. When she tried calling me, I told her I was angry about her remarks and not in the mood to talk. She apologized, then tried to explain the logic behind her homophobia. (Folks, don’t do this.) She felt like I was overreacting, which in her eyes, I was. I was breaking off contact based on one little remark, from her perspective. But from mine, I’d been treated like I didn’t matter for two years, and now she had the nerve to straight-up tell me that I was less-than by default. She didn’t bother to ask if there was anything else that contributed to that fight, and I was too angry at having all of my attempts to bring up the “chopped-liver” feeling dismissed, so I told her not to contact me again. So far as I know, she’s still confused about why we broke up.

Another big friend break-up in my life happened four years and much introspection after the first one. He and I had been very close for about three years but in the last year of it, we’d started some pretty dysfunctional ways of interacting. He loved to party, but I hated when he was cross-faded, and as the night wore on, he would get annoying and I would get just plain mean. I told him at the end of one summer that I thought we were dysfunctional, and maybe we should break up. He agreed we weren’t in a good pattern, but he wasn’t going to be the one to leave. He told me if I had to leave for my own health, he would support me in that, even though he would miss me. A few months later, after an infamous night and the most violent my pacifist self has ever been, I called it quits. I officially hated who I was with him. We disagreed on some of the reasons behind the breakup but we agreed that we’d gotten to a bad place. We parted calmly, and I went home and cried. We run in the same circles still, so for several months after that night he was a little cold during our exchanges. Now, we interact like civilized divorced folks: not necessarily sweet, but nice enough.

Breaking up requires insight into the patterns of behavior expressed in a friendship. Frequently, when we’re doing something that’s bad for us, we ignore the signs that say it’s bad for us because we want to keep doing it; the same goes for friendships. I know that I always want to believe the best of people, that they (and I) can change and that we can work through whatever fight we had, but the truth of the matter is that if I am feeling mistreated on a regular basis, I owe it to myself to get out. Unhealthy patterns in one relationship don’t automatically equate to the people in them being bad—sometime’s the chemistry’s just gone sour. But both parties owe it to themselves to end a relationship that’s damaging someone. I am a human worthy of respect and love, and so are the friends with whom I’ve broken up.

Photo by Sara Slattery

Photo by Sara Slattery

Virginity: It’s None of Your Business

So, you’re a virgin.

Or, you’re not.

Either way, has someone ever told you that it’s a “big deal”? That they can’t believe that you’re still a virgin. They can’t believe you lost it so young. They can’t believe you lost it with that person. They can’t believe you didn’tlose it with that person. They aren’t sure your virginity really counts, given what you told them about it when you were drunk. Given what they know from that person you were seeing, they don’t believe you’ve really had sex.

For something that seems so personal, people seem to have a lot of opinions about your virginity. It can be really hard to sort through what you want and what matters to you, as opposed to what other people expect.

It used to be that a woman—without an education, a job or the right to vote or own property—had little else besides her virginity that she could use to advance her place in the world. To a woman, virginity was something to hold onto tightly while a man, on the other hand, could be expected to “sow his wild oats” before he got married. Even today promiscuity is often expected of men and considered poor taste in women. But we live in a different time now, a time where sexuality is personal. It doesn’t (or shouldn’t) determine how far one goes in life. It can be as important or as unimportant as you want.

That idea used to sound strange to me:  society’s outdated value judgments aside, your virginity is supposed to be a big deal. It’s shackles. It’s the first time. It’s your most precious gift. Or whatever. Those are things that I’ve been told my whole life.

But it’s not true. Or maybe it is. That’s the great secret: we all get to decide. It took me awhile to realize virginity was just a social construct. It’s like the first time you do anything new—the first time you kiss someone, the first time your parents leave you home alone, the first time you ride a bike. But if it’s important to you, if it’s a moment that means something to you, then it means something. No one gets to tell you that it doesn’t.

As with most things, there is a flip side to that: virginity doesn’t have to mean anything either. It can be the first time you try something new, it can be with someone you’ve just met, or it can be with someone you’ve known forever. You can be in love, or “like,” or you don’t have to be. It can be on the fifth date, or your wedding night, or the first time you meet. You can wait until you’re 30 or 40 years old, or you can have sex for the first time at 18. Or you don’t ever have to have sex at all.

That’s right—you don’t ever have to have sex at all. You can have sex every day. You can have sex with girls; you can have sex with guys. You can have sex with people who don’t fit into society’s gender binary. You can define your sexuality or you don’t have to.

Sometimes, you’re going to struggle with it, and that has to be okay too. It takes serious mental effort to get through our socialized concepts. In spite of everything I’ve said to you here, things that I truly believe, I still struggle with it regularly. Because the social construct doesn’t go away and people asking about it doesn’t go away. Things are going to make you call into question your choices and people are going to try and force you to defend them. You may feel uncertain about what you’ve done or whom you’ve done it with. You may feel that you’re not as experienced as your friends or that you’ve given things away too easily.

Virginity is subjective. It’s socially constructed and it’s extremely personal. The person with whom you choose to have or not have sex, how old you are, when or where—none of that matters as long as you are honest with yourself about what you want. It sounds cheesy, but it’s true! In this, as in all aspects of life, the best thing that you can do is be good to yourself. Be honest. Be loud. And know that whatever you decide is okay, as long as you decide it. No one has any right to tell you what virginity means to you.

So, remember: your virginity is your business. Consent is sexy. If it’s not sexy and enthusiastic, then it wasn’t consent. And no matter who you are, no matter what gender or sexual orientation you are, you get to define sex for yourself—the first time, and every single time after that.

Photo by Sara Slattery