Dating Rules: Who’s Driving?


Who drives on a date?

I have another date with The Banker. And no, it’s not a threesome.

The Banker is funny, thoughtful, and smart. He’s followed up right after each date to say he had a great time and that he wants to see me again. He’s not as stylish as I’m used to–but then those guys (see Mr. Landing Strip and Running Man) fade after the third date when I don’t let them fuck me.

The Banker has worked with my crazy single working mom schedule, and arranged our fourth date for tomorrow. On his turf. At his favorite restaurant.

Great! A man with a plan is a sexy man.

There’s just one issue. He wants me to meet him there.


Blog friends, am I a princess for wanting to be picked up? I have always, without fail, been picked up by date two or three. This is date four.

I like chivalry. I expect it. Logistically, I would rather spend my time getting ready for a date than driving across town. I like to look good for my dates: scented lotion (all natural), a skirt or skinny jeans, sexy push-up bra under a nice shirt, hair straightened, and makeup perfected. I like to answer the door ready and prepared. Now I’m to spend my free evening primping, only to hop in my minivan and drive thirty minutes to The Banker’s neighborhood?

I’m turned off. And confused.

Is he lazy? Is his car a jalopy? Maybe he’s just not that into me? Is he married? Is he testing me?

Once in a relationship, I think it’s fair if things are a bit more equal. One week I go to yours, the next he comes to mine. That kind of thing.

But now? During the courtship phase? I’d like to be picked up, driven home, and kissed at my door.

I don’t know what to do. I haven’t responded to his text requesting that I meet him there. I’m not sure what to say, although I’m tempted to try one of these:
“No thanks.”
“If you want a kiss goodnight ya gotta walk me to my door!”
“Is your car in the shop?”

So, who drives? Does it matter? Thoughts appreciated!