If there’s one thing I love more than Roman architecture and having a beard, it’s asking a lady I fancy out for a night on the town.

For single individuals of collegiate age, ASU is the place to be. There are beautiful people everywhere, from the cavernous lecture halls to the severe, East German-looking dorms that line much of Apache Boulevard.

Dare I say, this semester, I’ll be more than willing to take part in the dance that is romance-in-the-making.

If a young lady catches my eye, and she’s rocking the illest of game, I’ll be walking with her one day and — often dramatically — announce, “My dear, I would like to take you out on a date.”

It’s a big move, and quite a risk, but if she accepts, on the decided evening we’re off to wherever the mood might take us.

I prefer dating to the wholly noncommittal “hanging out.” Sure, you could be bored one Friday night and, on a whim, text the person you’ve been not-so-secretly interested in for a while. But there’s just something a bit too easy in getting a message from a romantic interest which simply says, “Let’s hang out tonight.”

Where’s the adventure? Where’s the panache?

Dating is a lost art, and not all of us are artists.

This “lost art,” however, isn’t exactly a new concept. Courtship, whereby a man and a woman spend specially designated time together to find out if they would be a compatible couple, has existed in Western society in some form for several generations.

However, like many old traditions, courtship has gradually fallen out of cultural significance since the 1960s. This can be attributed to many societal changes in the past four decades, but sadly, the space provided does not allow me to delve into much detail.

That said, in a sociological nutshell, your grandparents may have “courted” for upwards of a year, your parents may have “dated” for a couple of months, and nowadays, casual “hanging out” generally leads into meandering relationships after a rather ambiguous time of romantic limbo.

Again, I don’t want to make sweeping generalizations, and certainly there are modern exceptions to this trend. Nor do I advocate reverting to strict, courtly Victorian-style rampant sexual repression. I don’t like things too casual, and I don’t like things too strict, either.

I do like picking a lady up from her place, waiting in the living room while she finds her earrings, and a “Family Guy” episode plays halfheartedly in the background. I like going to either a fast-food place or a fancy restaurant wearing a suit because I’m on a date, damnit, and I want to look classy.

And there are fewer finer things in life than dropping a lady off at her place, sharing playfully awkward conversation in her living room during those few moments left where we don’t know what it’s like to kiss one another.

There’s something to be said about specifically — and openly — spending time with someone because you’re romantically interested in him or her. There’s no misperception of intent, no misunderstanding; you’re both there for the same reason.

If it feels right and you get along well, you’ll go out more, and hopefully get one of those relationships built and out to sea.

Now, one might accuse me of being nostalgically pretentious, or, at the very least, theatrically corny.

But the next time you’re sitting on the couch with someone you’ve been “seeing” for three months and still don’t know if you’re “in a relationship,” remember your current woes could have been prevented with a little daring, a bit of imagination, and these simple words:
“Let’s go on a date.”

Reach the reporter at alexander.petrusek@asu.edu.