I suppose it’s really none of my business, but I can’t help wondering about how young people go about dating these days. When I see a high school age couple in public, it’s not clear what’s going on between them because they don’t seem to be having much of a conversation.

In fact, they speak to each other about as much as grandparents do when they go out to dinner. (This amounts to about thirty-seven words per meal, the main topics being the weather, traffic, kids these days, bodily malfunctions, and the high price of everything from liver to onions.)

Dating is not like it used to be. In those days, a date was a big deal that came in three stages. The first was the attraction, a phenomenon initiated often by some outsider, like a friend, saying something like “I think [so and so] likes you!.” Now that your libinal engine has been fired up, you must hatch a plan – an invitation of some sort that would require you to smother your squeaky, frightened inner child as you articulate some speech you’ve been rehearsing for days – “I was wondering if you’d want to go to…”

There were many considerations regarding the actual date, including the cost, time of year, and transportation. Much depended on the depth of your crush. Was it deep enough to go roller skating and risk the embarrassment of falling down repeatedly just to hold sticky hands while endlessly circling the rink’s outer orbit (the dork zone) to the sound of organ music? Deep enough to consider the child-labor consequences of borrowing your parent’s car? Deep enough to go to a church event where the preacher is the uncle of your date?

Let’s assume such drastic measures were not warranted, and all you wanted was to see how things might develop. In that case, a movie was the easiest choice.

But you had to be careful about what movie you chose. Heavy romance, like Love Story or Dr. Zhivago, could induce a spell of involuntary weeping, which could be embarrassing, even debilitating. On the other hand, Monty Python and the Holy Grail or Caddyshack might give a wrong impression, especially if you were to experience a laugh attack and spit out popcorn and pepsi into the row of seats in front of you.

While a horror film might bring you closer together, there is the risk of emotional petrification. Above all, stay away from The Exorcist or any movie that involves pea-green vomit.

As for young couples today, I couldn’t begin to advise them. My guess is that the initial attraction comes via social media: a friend posts a picture of someone they think might be a match for you. (This is touchy, because in your friend’s imagination, you might be part of a combo like Ariana and Dalton, or Justin and Haily, or Taylor and Travis, or Homer and Marge, or Beavis and Butthead!)

As for the invitation, no sweat. There are apps for that.

When it comes to the date itself, the choices are similar to previous times. Yet I think young people today are more competitive, and the prospect of holding sweaty hands in a roller rink promenade would be less preferable than, say, a game of one-on-one flag football on skates. Or, for the less aggressive folks, a high-stakes game of corn hole.

Because any activity that requires more than five minutes away from a device creates stress, a church date would be challenging. However, many of the big, popular “universal” churches today feature giant screens with virtual fireworks, mega-sound systems and images of a Jesus who looks like a dieting Ken doll with long black hair.

A movie date is still a viable choice, and because most of the popular films today are much like a giant video game, the device withdrawal symptoms are negligible.

Recently, my dinner date and I were seated at a table near a young couple, whom I observed in a nonchalant manner by lowering my baseball cap and tapping my finger on the table while pretending to be engaged with my partner. The couple thumbed skillfully at their devices, and spoke only when approached by the waitress. What was sweet about their peaceful interaction was the fact that they often smiled into their devices, and would periodically hold up their phones and share images with each other.

I wondered what those images were. Were they pictures of close friends or family members? Of places they had visited? Of school events? Or could they have been personal messages – like written notes passed secretly during class? Or maybe little love poems stamped with a heart-felt emoji?

My wondering came to an abrupt end when my partner spoke. “Hey. Wake up. What are you going to order? The usual?”

Pete Howard, a musician, writer, teacher, and painter, lives in Dunkirk.