It was about 8 p.m. on Friday, and I was in the middle of describing the exact way my friend’s chromatic orb spell vaporized an unsuspecting goblin. We were three hours into our Friday night session of Dungeons & Dragons, and I was in a great mood. I love playing D&D and, even better, I had a date planned right after with the guy I had been seeing for a couple of weeks. 

I didn’t realize it then but I had more in common with Relk — the aforementioned vaporized goblin — than I knew. I wasn’t vanquished by a ball of lightning that sprung from the fingertips of a sneaky, elven sorceress; my chromatic orb came in the form of a long text, canceling the date and ending things, citing that I seemed to want something more serious than he could offer.  

It came as a surprise. I thought we were doing well, and our conversations had a ring of optimism that suggested an openness to a future. In the days leading up to the text, I made my excitement clear: I wanted to see him more.

After the session, I was confronted with the question: “Do I do too much? Is there a better way to do this?” Even though I had always advised my friends that feigning nonchalance in romance is never the answer, at that moment I was no longer so sure. Would I be on that date if I had toned it down?

I owe my enthusiasm to my parents’ stories of a dating scene that required thought and effort. Casual hookups existed, and there absolutely were people who dated or hooked up, but there was also this nifty practice called “dating.” It was an in-between — a dynamic before the label of boyfriend or girlfriend, but different from what we now recognize as a “situationship.”

Dating, as I am using it in this article, is the stage in which two people see each other before any commitments are made with the intention of discovering whether the other person would be compatible as a long-term partner. 

The funny thing is that in practice, dating is not unlike the “casual” relationship. Commitments have not been made, either party can drop out guilt-free at any point and exclusivity isn’t even necessary unless agreed upon. There is also no set time frame for how long people need to date before they commit to each other.

The important distinction between dating and a situationship is intent. The intention is to meaningfully engage with someone — a mixed process of enjoying someone’s presence while discerning whether you could be with them in a more serious way.

My entire time at USC, I have stubbornly adhered to this playbook, even though it’s a framework that feels incompatible with today’s social dynamics. Nearly all of the relationships in which I saw longer-term potential involved me pathetically trying to carefully communicate the nuance of how we could simultaneously not make any commitments to each other while still maintaining the intention of a relationship.

As it happens, it’s really difficult to express this expectation without sounding like you are asking someone to be your boyfriend on the spot which can understandably make them feel flighty. 

However, I believe situationships and nonchalance aren’t the issue. I don’t think the prevalence of hookup culture is because our generation is uninterested in love. Quite the opposite: My impression is that we care deeply for connection, but our seriousness about it creates pressure. 

Ironically, I owe my own capacity for commitment to the way I am not too serious about it. Relationships, at their most basic level, platonic or romantic, are two people who want to see each other again and again. You enter someone’s presence, leave their presence and find yourself feeling, “Hmm, I would like to be in that person’s presence again.” 

Commitments are indeed a useful way of honoring and solidifying that dynamic, but I view them as additions to that basic, primitive gravity that brings two people together. 

If you are searching for a long-term commitment, think about how you can communicate those intentions. Articulating that you are interested in something, even if it’s down the road, also opens up the conversation about the relationship’s pacing — the fear of doing too much fades when you are both clear on your boundaries, and you can feel empowered in the knowledge that the relationship is building toward something meaningful.

Kevin Gramling is a senior writing about his search for meaning amid the daily chaos of being a USC student. His column, “The (S)existentialist,” runs every other Monday.