Wherein I take pot shots at my own passivity. Also cats die.
When Erwin Schrodinger posited a quantum thought experiment
wherein the state of a boxed cat could be termed simultaneously ‘alive’ and ‘dead’
as long as it was not visible to the experimenter, I doubt he understood what
far-reaching consequences his words would have on the dating tactics of 21st
century dillweeds.
Allow me to explain.
Most dates are defined by their concrete existence. One asks, receives affirmation that a
date is welcome, and then proceeds to go bowling or whatnot. This is fine – consider this the
walking-about version of the cat.
The trouble begins when you accompany a friend to a
film/passion play/narwhal dinner theatre and begin to notice that they are
behaving… oddly. Perhaps they’re a
new friend you’re just getting to know, or an old one with whom you’ve been out
of touch. Either way, something
seems off. Possible symptoms
include: offers to pay for food and/or accoutrements, group outings where six other
friends mysteriously fail to show up, and the infamous Long Weird Hug. You know the one.
Congratulations, you are on a Schrodinger’s Date. This is a precarious situation. Acknowledgment of the date-like nature
of the evening will force you to confront the problem, effectively killing your
Friendship Cat. But there is a
possibility that, if left unexamined by the scientist, the Date Cat will not
trigger and you and your companion’s feelings can escape unmolested.
Once you have identified the Schrodinger’s Date, your
options are limited. The simplest
solution is to remove the cat from the box posthaste. Let your companion know in the clearest possible terms the
following: the two of you are not on a date. You will never be on a date. And if they didn’t want to get their sensitive feelings hurt
they should have been more explicit about asking you out so you could have cut
their date-like feelings off at the ankles and spared them further pain.
…But who are we kidding. If you were that sort of person, you would not be trapped in
a Schrodinger’s Date in the first place.
They are the exclusive province of the vaguely passive.
So here is your recourse: Do not allow your companion to open
Schrodinger’s Box and gas the Friendship Cat.
You are already a master of passivity; crack that nonsense
up to eleven. If you feel that
they are reaching for the Box (or putting their lips too close to your face), double
down. Talk about the weather. Engage deflector shields. Mix some metaphors too, that should
throw them off until you get out of the theatre. Do not under any circumstances use the word ‘date’ in a
sentence. Avoid calendars and
Lebanon. In fact, just cut them
off if they start making a ‘d’ sound.
If, despite all your weasley tactics (that’s weasley, not
Weasley – sorry Ron), they manage to posthumously identify your hangout as a
date, then it is their fault for not getting your consent before dating you and
you can feel free to quietly loathe them while they drive you home because the
Los Angeles buses don’t run after 11:00 at night and the 405 is scary as hell.
Watch out for too-long hugs, clueless social navigators of
America. May the Quantum Cat be
with you.
Cheers
Julia
This needs to be printed in every high school/university newspaper in the country. Invaluable stuff you've got there.
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