Once upon a time, I clung way too hard to the idea that people could expect particular acts of intimacy after a certain number of dates. I’m not sure where these expectations came from, but it’s probably safe to blame reruns of Seinfeld and Friends. I was desperate for a yardstick to help me determine what was “normal.” This probably should have been a clue that I wasn’t actually into the people I was dating, and that I had some stuff to figure out about my own sexuality, but alas.  Without a modern day Emily Post to answer these questions, we must wonder what reveal do you save for the fourth date? Something you would only share when a particular threshold of trust has been met? Of course there’s information I hide because I know it’s not cute, like the fact that in over a decade of vehicle ownership I have never once washed my car. But what about the real treats, the juicy stuff? Honestly, you’d have to stick around a lot longer than four dates. 

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