Millennial Dating Lingo
End of 2019
Decades ago, I watched the Perry Mason Revival Movie series. Perry Mason returned, but the theme song got a bit mangled on the return trip!
The opening theme music was a re-working of the original theme song from the original Perry Mason television series (where the gun box was always the glove compartment in the car). Dear Husband laughingly mocked this revised composition of Fred Steiner by Dick DeBenedictis. He called it:
The Love Theme to Perry Mason.
When you all have left of jungle-heat passion is the mechanical jungle-drum machine, then the love theme has gone terribly wrong. I believe this monotony has taken place amongst the Millennials with their digital dating decorum.
Here we have a generational group that not only came-of-age during fraud and deception (Subprime Collapse), but was raised amidst so much fraud and deception that these individuals probably have endured more non-genuine personalities than genuine ones. Their concept of a meaningful relationship defies definition!
Their response has been to construct barricades of blather, verbalizations that don’t amount to a hill of coffee beans. Evidently, there is an entire dating language, love lingo, if you will, developed by these “young” people in the USA who have virtually no idea about how to conduct a relationship, much less a romance. But the media seem to be obsessed with how this group talks, walks, acts, plays, does not play, works, and does not work.
It truly has become a very unhealthy interest
in the lives of other people, and why the Millennials, or M’s, capture the
inordinate attention of so many older people is a factor that still eludes
me. Peri-menopausal women trying to get
some subliminal kicks? Mid-life men competing
with their adult sons? 40-somethings who
can’t let go of their twenties?
These “dating” behaviors have gone on since the dawn of time. I’ve experienced every single one of them, and variations upon every single one of them. I granted those miserable moments my own unique terms, but since the M’s so apparently bond through their texted terminology, their language has now escaped the E button and gone from Secret Code to a Lingua Franca between M’s and Non-M’s.
I now have a clue as to why my essay, The Cookie Crumbles, gets so many clicks. Furthermore, my novel, THE GHOST, is not about a hit-and-run, duck-and-cover-cause-it’s-over dating experience! Although death can put some definite finality into a romance. I did not even know these terms existed in this form, with a specialized usage, when I wrote the book in 2013. In fact, I did not know these terms before this afternoon!
Here's a starter course for the M lexicon:
Breadcrumbing. What used to be teasing and leading someone on has morphed into breadcrumbing. In spite of the double-clicked and professed pining away on Soche Media, one of the two parties involved in this digital game still clings to an aversion to appear in real life — to even eat a meal together, heretofore quaintly called a Dinner Date.
I’ll bet the breadcrumbs were the plain kind, not even the seasoned ones! So much time and attention for measly crumbs! There were probably enormous signs from the start that the Full Loaf wasn’t full or even a loaf. Maybe M’s should start baking bread to discover the many steps involved in really getting a rise out of something or someone!
Ghosting. Now I will freely admit to having been ghost-like during my single years, although the nickname, Black Cat, was typically used to describe my need to come and go as I pleased in the life of a person or thing: teachers, supervisors, apartments, doctors, jobs, fiancés, hairdressers, grocery stores, even dentists. I was a loyal friend though.
At one point in time, long ago, I went, upon dire occasion, to a dentist whose Office called me at work to dump me because I’d cancelled one too many appointments. I still recall standing there with non i-Phone in hand, stunned into silence about this final decision on his part. Yes, the World According to Debra consisted of one revolving door, and it went only in one direction, hers. It took me a while to catch on to the fact that the rotating door can go both ways!
I did not have a fear of commitment. I had, and have, a fear of confinement and/or entrapment, a claustrophobic sensibility that has quite literally saved a few of my nine lives! It seems to me that the present love dilemma of many M’s is an extreme fear of risk, which translates into fear of commitment, fear of making a mistake, fear of being wrong, fear of being wronged or betrayed, fear of going down the wrong path, fear of trusting, fear of not trusting. After a while, that many fears become a Fear — of fear itself. There are ways to get over such acute risk adversity, but no one can offer pragmatic advice to dismantle that obstacle to happiness. You have to discover the key to your own heart and unlock it!
The suggestion to delete the Ghost from your e-mail list is not the answer. There are probably 5-10 other Ghosts on that list! I’d recommend holding a seance to see if the romance problem here is your belief that the Unavailable Person will suddenly emerge as a knight-in-shining-armor or princess-perfect. And random texting is not the problem; giving your name and address (of any kind) to a real-life phantom is!
Micro-cheating — which might be a side-effect of the micro-brewery. This wimpy behavior used to be called sneak-cheating, or keeping all options open while pretending to be committed to a person. There is no physical betrayal going on here, just the desire for it and the thrill of secret deception, a sensation that you may think is your seductive effect on the louse. Think of Scarlett and the milquetoast Ashley. And then channel Rhett, as in, frankly, my dear . . .
Ah, the Love-Bomb. Much like the flower-bomb perfume so beloved within this age group, the thing stinks from the start! This weirdness was once known as coming on too strong and then dumping the person. It’s your basic head-trip. Don’t lose your head over this manipulator. What goes around comes around; the Love-Bomber usually ends up an old fizzled-out flunky to love that never came his, or her, way.
Benching: Formerly known as having a Steady Eddy, or being put on the Back Burner as the Back-up, or Being Placed in Reserve. He can’t let you go, but he doesn’t want to hold you close either. In fact, he doesn’t want to hold you at all. It’s a real out-of-body-experience! “You Keep Me Hangin’ On” is the musical form of the fire that won’t go out, no matter how much water you throw on it!
I usually burned up the creep who tried to put
me on any burner, but if you like intermittent involvement in your life, this
type of emotional chicken might fit perfectly into your coop. Then you can both check out the competition
surreptitiously, perhaps even run into each other at the same place, at the
same time, and call it Kismet! The Pina
Colada song from the oldie moldy ’80s applies here. (Technically, the song was the last #1 single
of the ’70’s but I do not want to think about the 1970s, or even that
song! The annoying ditty was called Escape,
and I detested it.)
Cuffing — This Seasonal Affective Disorder plays out on the romantic spectrum. Basically, it’s Baby It’s Cold Outside, except I’d wager Dino stuck around a bit longer beyond the first snowmelt! A pair of warm flannel pj’s, cup of hot cocoa and a Golden Era Hollywood movie were my solutions to Mr. Frost Flies Away by February. If truly desperate, I burned a Dura-flame in the tiny fireplace to assist with those quiet moments of contemplating romance-that-never-was-but-still-might-be.
Cuffing is a more general ploy, a broader rip-off act enacted from September (the falling leaves . . .) through Valentine’s Day (see below L-O-V-E, also by Nat King Cole). There is, however, a more time-critical romantic robbery, which is limited, very limited, and is part of the Holiday Heist.
It’s my personal favorite!
Actually, I’d believed, for decades, that I’d been the only Leading Lady left behind, sidelined in this romantic scenario — and shoved into a snowbank by a Lothario who, upon one odious occasion, didn’t even give me a Christmas gift!
I guess the gutless worm didn’t have the decency to split the scene, and worm away, just before the start of Christmas-shopping-season, which in America gets earlier and earlier each year. So if you get dumped in July (which I’ve also experienced), just think of the ditching as Christmas in July! And bake a Dump Cake to celebrate your freedom from a fruitcake!
I now know, from hapless past experience that turned into happiness, that I was:
Ah, yes. The lights are dimmed. The fire crackles. The passion sizzles. Baby, it’s cold outside. And by the first snowmelt in January, it’s cold indoors too!
The guy, or gal, stays for the spruce-up, and then the needles start falling fast off that Tannebaum.
Chalk it up to abuse of Christmas. And Christmas-abusers are receiving their just due, now that we can all say “Merry Christmas” again. Why, just this past mid-December, I greeted my UPS driver with a Merry Christmas and was almost blown off the steps of my abode by the fortissimo of: MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!
But wait, there’s more!
Select, quality businesses are taking a break from online sales activity — they are taking a real Christmas vacation! Linnea’s Lights officially closed their studio to refresh and rejuvenate for the New Year, or until 1/2/20. But Lochcarron of Scotland, in true Scots fashion, went all out! The spirit of Christmas through the Epiphany was all over this email message, sent with the typical Scots directness:
Please note we are now closed for the Christmas holidays. Your order will be dealt with as soon as we return on the 6th of January. For more information, please see the following link (at . . . Christmas Information). Thank you again for your order.
Snow-globing may even become a thing of the past — now that Christmas is truly Christ-mas again! Just say to the crumby would-be crook of Noël love, Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow! And then chime in a few lines of “April Love”. I’m sure you can musically put it over to the romantic lout. It sure beats having to hear “Love for Sale” sung to you by your conscience!
My conscience today forced me to sing a special song to my Online Crush, whom Dear Daughter refers to as “Ralphie” — who never lets me down. I absolutely refuse to buy expensive-clothes-on-sale during the spring and summer “seasons” in my region of California. All I do is sweat them up!
So, Sir Lauren, I’ll see you in September!
The Slow Fade, otherwise known as Hit-and-Slink-Away. And you’d really wanted to bring him home to meet the parents! Or you thought you were going to the beach next weekend! The saddest part about this love story is that it wasn’t a love story. You were the only one in the boat, rowing, while she was out looking for a better rower, if not checking out the entire crew team! Looking back, you can see the acting job by this pair-of-heels or heel really wasn’t that good. Live and learn!
The terminology of true love might one day replace these sad-sack synonyms for getting used and not knowing it. My hope is that, by then, there will be no desire, or need, to craft communication vernacular for amour. A song will do!
And there is one already written, with music composed by Bert Kaempfert, and lyrics by Milt Gabler.
L is for the way you look at me,
O is for the only one I see,
V is very, very extraordinary
E is even more than anyone that you adore and
Love is all that I can give to you
Love is more than just a game for two
Two in love can make it
Take my heart and please don’t break it
Love was made for you and me . . .
I’ve long believed that the formal marking of a New Year was over-done, over-played and over-hyped. It’s a turn of the calendar page to another month, not much more consequential than the turning of March into April or the rolling of August into September. There are, however, certain New Year flips of the calendar that are to be celebrated — especially the start of a new decade after a decade of dreary ordeals and monotonous mayhem.
Let’s start the New Year 2020 with a love theme that is sung to perfection by Bing Crosby in the 1942 film, Holiday Inn. Penned by Irving Berlin, “Let’s Start the New Year Right” is bouncy and bright, filled with the optimism that love just naturally brings to one and all.
May your Love Theme, now and always, sound something like:
One minute to midnight
One minute to go
One minute to say good-bye
Before we say hello
Let’s start the new year right
Twelve o’clock tonight
When they dim the light
Kissing the old year out
Kissing the new year in
can our love go wrong if
We start the new year right?
Let’s watch the old year die
With a fond good-bye
And our hopes as high
As a kite
can our love go wrong if
We start the new year right?