Terminology

I went to the orthopedist yesterday to try to figure out why my upper arm and shoulder have been hurting so terribly since I hefted Ridley and toted her around the Cleveland Museum of Art. Oh wait. It doesn't take a brain surgeon or even an orthopedist to diagnose that cause!

<Personal note on>
Aside to Ridley: "You're four. Grandma's over 50. You can walk. Grandma can't carry you."
<Personal note off>

Ah, but back to today's topic. As I was describing my symptoms to Dr. Parseghian, I said, "I've just started dating a new guy and I can't even hug him." (This was, of course, said with the proper Southern belle pout.) Dr. Parseghian laughed.

But then as I sat there waiting for my X-ray and shot of cortisone, I was thinking about today's terminology. I couldn't say, "I'm dating . . . ." I've had four dates with the Professor, and the fifth will be at a 4th of July party at my friend Klaire's. He's too newly hurt by the breakup with previous girlfriend and doesn't yet know specifically what he wants. He's not a boyfriend, he's not a beau. Oooh, but he's a darling! I'm keeping a tight leash on my smittenness.

Then there's Frank. We don't date. We kinda hang out. He likes to go out to dinner with one lovely lady after another, or go for a ride in the BMW with the top down. I rarely say "no" when he calls for dinner, so he knows that when no one else on his list says "yes" to his calls, he can punch me on his cell. We're more than friends. We're dear friends, I think. We know the ins and outs of each other's lives. We each know how the other feels about all the others in his or her life. We know what makes each other happy and sad and pissed off. But we don't date. Dating implies an emotional connection, I believe, and that doesn't exist with Frank.

And there are others. Lee, Larry, Doug, Howard, Mike. These guys I occasionally "go out" with — coffee, breakfast, a game of cards, maybe dinner — but they aren't dates, there's no possibility of a dating relationship with these men. (Now that I look back at the list, I would say Lee and Larry are my friends, probably my good friends, but the others are just guys I know. I think. So hard to categorize!)

So what is the terminology for the 21st century? I think I'm "seeing" the Professor. But that's such an old word for a complex new century. I think I hang out with Frank. If the Professor started objecting to Frank, I would probably terminate the hanging out. Frank is constantly adding new stalls to the stable for the new fillies he finds. He doesn't need me, he just likes my looks and my brain and my style.

<Personal note on>
To Wendy and Susan: You may protest all you want that you're not one of the fillies. But if it trots like a filly and neighs like a filly, by God it's a filly. Shut up and enjoy it.
<Personal note off>

I end this note, a year after I started this blog, hearkening back to a very early post. "They changed all the rules." I may have to invent a new dating dictionary so we all know who and where we are.