Thing (n): an object that one need not, cannot, or does not wish to give a specific name to

For a generation that seems to enjoy simplicity, we tend to overcomplicate things, at least when it comes to relationships. I’ve never really understood how we created so many labels for essentially the same thing: “talking,” “hooking up,” "things.” None of these titles actually make sense when you think about it, yet somehow my generation has found a way to give each distinct properties and rules, and could easily define each of them if you asked.

Take my friend Paige, for example, who’s been seeing this guy, Ben, for the past month or so. When I asked her how she'd define their relationship, her immediate response was, “oh, we’re just hooking up.” Now, if you asked my Mom what that meant, she'd assume their relationship was merely sexual, but this is not the case. In reality, Paige and Ben talk all day everyday, go to formals together, and frequently stay in for movie nights alone. Considering all of these factors, I asked why they weren’t a “thing” — more on this term later — and her answer was simply, “well it’s not like we go on dates.”

Dates. You'd assume that going on dates automatically qualifies a relationship to be labeled as “dating,” but this, too, is not the case. Another friend of mine (we’ll call her Brooke) has been with her — well, honestly, I don't know what to call him — her “boy,” I guess, since last winter. That’s almost a year. Not only do they talk everyday, go to formals, and have movie nights-in, but they do go on dates. Frequently. They’re even at the point of giving each other Christmas presents. Again, most people would reasonably assume that this means they're dating, but, again, they would be wrong. If you ask Brooke about the status of her relationship, she'll adamantly tell you that he is not her boyfriend, despite the fact that they're “exclusive.” Let me just say, that makes absolutely zero sense to me.

Now I can understand not wanting to be in a committed relationship, but if you’re willing to go as far as to be exclusive with someone — meaning you don’t talk to, hangout with, or hookup with anyone else — then why not just date officially? What are people so afraid of the terms “girlfriend” or “boyfriend” that they go to great lengths to avoid them?

It's here where the infamous thing comes into play. If I had to pick my least favorite part of modern dating, this is definitely it. What’s a “thing,” you might ask? Great question — no one knows either. I guess the best way to describe a “thing” is that it’s a term we (my generation) made up to avoid ever having to actually talk to their partners about what they are. But why? Some of my friends say it’s because they don’t want the commitment attached to certain labels, but I’ve seen a lot of couples with labels who aren’t committed, and just as many without labels who are. So where's the disconnect?

After pushing my friends to really think about why they distance themselves from labels, most of them admitted that it was out of fear of vulnerability. Defining a relationship means admitting how much they care, and for some reason that feels forbidden.

I get it. Laying everything out on the table, and risking rejection sucks - there’s no way around it. But this fear goes beyond just having unreciprocated feelings; it's a fear of breaking an unspoken societal rule. For some reason, we live in an age where having emotions is seen as a weakness, so we've trained ourselves to desire short-lived hook-ups and "things" to avoid them.

Obviously a label — or the lack thereof — doesn't define a relationship, but if your reason for rejecting a label is fear — especially fear of something you can't even name — is the relationship even worth being in? Optimistically, I’d like to believe that I'll be better in my next relationship, and have the courage to be honest about how I feel, but the reality is that I'll probably end up playing it safe. Why? Because I've naively adopted the belief that I have to. I get it sounds contradictory to recognize a problem, yet continue to do it anyway, but you have to understand that this idea has been engrained in me for years now. It's a difficult habit to break.

Aside from the fact that it makes no sense to me, I guess my real problem with accepting "things" as official titles is that it doesn't just allow us to avoid expressing how we feel, it encourages it. Every time we recognize this incredibly vague word as a valid definition for relationships that mean so much more, we affirm the naturalized belief that emotions are forbidden.

Sometimes it amazes me that I ever even had a boyfriend because acknowledging any type of emotion beyond friendship seems so foreign to me. Somehow in the years between my high school relationship and now I've accepted that caring for someone is unacceptable. Even when I've had feelings for people in the past, I hid them because I never wanted to be "that girl." But what even is "that girl?" Someone who sees you as more than that person she spent a few drunken nights with? Someone who'll ask you how your day was instead of asking if you're up at 1am?

Hiding your feelings behind empty words doesn't make them any less real; they continue to exist whether we choose to acknowledge them or not. We think we're simplifying our relationships by adopting arbitrary titles, but in reality we're just complicating everything, and making things harder for ourselves in the long run. So when you think about it, what sounds crazier — telling someone you care, or restraining yourself in submission to some imaginary law?

#relationships #dating #college #labels