I never called my ex-boyfriend my boyfriend while we were dating. The irony is that he now holds the title of “ex-boyfriend.” See how that works? It was so sophisticated of my 19-year-old self not to feel compelled to call him my boyfriend, but my now 23-year-old self has absolutely no words left to describe him aside from “ex-boyfriend.” Or, maybe bigot. Or, maybe straight-up chauvinist. Wait. Maybe I do have more words to describe him.

I used to think I was one of those people who was oh so beyond titles. Titles were passé. They were elementary. Titles were the definitive mark of women who were clingy, insecure and begging to be loved. Then, I realized that was not it at all.

I’m not sure when I decided titles in relationships mattered. It certainly wasn’t always my point of view. My mindset may have shifted during my most recent dating stint. It was a state of affairs where we could openly make plans a week in advance, discuss our feelings and even (gasp) express our views on marriage. It did not feel like some sort of transgression to mention a wine festival or a show that was happening in the future, worried that I would scare off my potential suitor by looking too far ahead. It was not “let’s hang out” or “let me get back to you next week.” It was authentic adult dating, an activity I had been utterly clueless about during my early entry into real life. We were working toward exclusivity. Significant other status. The kind of distinction that is mutual, explicit and verbalized.

I stumbled upon a Helena Andrews xoJane piece a few weeks ago entitled, “Hanging Out, Dating, a ‘Thing’: Has The ‘No Titles’ Thing Ever Worked Out For Anyone In The History of the Universe?” The search is on for anyone on the planet who has ever gotten away with the “no titles” maxim and lived to tell a successful dating story. No, really, I’m looking for you. Leave a comment right here on this blog. I’ll give you one, perhaps two, cookies for getting away with what us mere mortals can’t seem to manage.

It’s certainly nice to pretend we live in a world where we can lazily fall into relationships. It’s somewhat comforting to think that after some weeks or months spent gallivanting around a metropolis, rummaging through LivingSocial for couple-esque deals and lying tangled in each other’s sheets on Sundays that we have earned a relationship. It’s so comforting, in fact, that too many of us think that’s precisely what happens. We feign the relationship until we mistakenly believe we’ve gone from fraud to the bona fide thing.

No.

I will write the exact thing I say to any of my friends any time they have an inkling they are someone’s girlfriend but they are not exactly sure: exclusivity is explicit. It is not a maybe, kind of, perhaps thing. Titles do not matter so that someone can parade you around at family picnics calling you the “girlfriend.” Titles do not matter so that someone will actually use your Twitter handle in their spirited tweets about love instead of just subtweeting hoping you’ll notice. Titles do not matter without the work, fidelity and commitment it takes to sustain a relationship.

Titles matter because, once again, exclusivity is explicit. Titles matter because two people understanding and agreeing upon what they are, and what they are not, is what grown-ups do. The irony is that we’ve passed off “letting things develop naturally” or “seeing where things go” as the mature solution. But I’m not sure when passive-aggressive behavior became mature. Sure, don’t demand a title. Sure, don’t force someone into a corner, begging them to claim you in a way they are totally unprepared to do. Sure, know your position and be willing to walk if it’s not the position you want. But, yes, titles in relationships matter.

Xoxo,

Tyece