Congratulations, You’re Exclusive. To What Exactly?

Exclusivity has excellent branding.

The word itself sounds reassuring. Private. Chosen. Special. Suddenly there is a velvet rope around the relationship and apparently only two names are on the guest list. Very chic.

Which is probably why the idea becomes so tempting after only a few dates, especially when you already like the man and uncertainty is beginning to get annoying. You are kissing, talking constantly, perhaps sleeping together, perhaps behaving suspiciously like a couple, and naturally one question starts circling:

Are we exclusive?

Perfectly understandable. What is slightly more amusing is how quickly the answer can become more important than the man.

Because at that stage, you may still know surprisingly little about him.

You know he is attractive. You know he texts nicely. You know he ordered the pasta and has strong opinions about coffee. You may know several intimate childhood stories because early dating has a curious habit of producing emotional disclosure before anyone knows whether the other person returns shopping carts.

And yet the velvet rope is already being measured.

This is where exclusivity can perform a little magic trick. It takes a connection that still contains plenty of unknowns and makes it feel more solid simply because nobody else is officially allowed inside.

But exclusivity is not a quality certificate.

A confusing man can become exclusively confusing.

An inconsistent man can become exclusively inconsistent.

A man who gives you two wonderful evenings followed by four days of fog can agree not to date anyone else and continue delivering exactly the same fog, now in a private setting.

Congratulations. The lounge is yours.

That is the absurd little contradiction hiding inside the rush toward exclusivity: sometimes what you really want is not exclusivity at all. You want reassurance.

You want to know that the lovely thing you have started enjoying is not simultaneously being enjoyed by six other women with equally lovely hair. You want some indication that this is going somewhere and that you have not emotionally wandered into a very attractive waiting room.

So the word exclusive begins carrying much more than it can actually hold. It starts meaning serious. It starts meaning safe. It starts meaning he really likes me. It may even begin meaning this has a future.

Rather ambitious work for one adjective.

And murky behavior becomes especially funny once exclusivity enters the room, because now the temptation is to focus on whether another woman exists instead of noticing what is already happening right in front of you.

He is vague. Plans remain loose. You rarely know where you stand. The relationship seems to operate mainly when convenient for him.

But at least he is not doing this with anyone else.

What a relief.

It is a bit like discovering that the questionable little VIP lounge is completely empty and deciding this proves the establishment is excellent.

Sometimes the more revealing question is not Does he want anyone else? but Do I actually like what I am getting here?

That question tends to arrive later because attraction is noisy in the beginning. Chemistry has excellent public relations. A man can be charming, affectionate and very convincing while still being fundamentally wrong for what you want.

Meanwhile, the actual relationship is still introducing itself.

People need time to become less polished. Reliability needs opportunities. Consideration needs inconvenience. Charm eventually has to survive ordinary life, which is where some excellent opening acts discover they have no second half.

That is why exclusivity itself is not particularly interesting unless the relationship underneath it is becoming interesting too.

You can put a velvet rope around almost anything.

The label does not improve the contents.

And perhaps the strangest version is asking a clearly murky man for exclusivity because his murkiness is making you anxious. Now the very behavior causing the uncertainty becomes the reason to secure him more tightly.

Romance does produce some wonderful logic.

If he is already difficult to read, inconsistent or reluctant to define what he wants, obtaining a private agreement may soothe the question of other women while leaving every larger question exactly where it was.

The guest list got shorter. The confusion did not.

A good developing relationship usually becomes clearer because the two people inside it are becoming clearer. Interest gathers weight. Behavior starts matching words. You begin to know what kind of person you are dealing with, not simply whether he has agreed to stop browsing elsewhere.

And by then, exclusivity has a different feeling.

It is no longer a velvet rope thrown around a mystery in the hope that nobody else gets in.

It is simply two people looking at something they have actually begun to know and deciding they would quite like to keep the guest list small.