Have you heard whispers and rumors of two serial double daters on campus this semester? Each week a new double date, each double date a new set of guys. Always capturing hearts, never falling for one person. Those who have been hit by the double daters can only speak of them with awe and longing, for they know that the serial nature of the double daters means they will never get another date. Those yet to be graced with a double date are left with wonder and fear.
I wish I could reveal that I was one half of the serial double daters, but I cannot. They do not exist. They are only a concept once dreamt up by two naive college sophomores. Perhaps if they existed, words people would have used to describe them would be dazing, avant-garde, witty, elusive, ahead of their time, alluring and brilliant. Observer articles may have run, referring to them as “daring originals.” But those words, in the words of Natasha Bedingfield, will be left “Unwritten.” To understand why, we must examine the beginnings of the serial double daters — or at least the idea of them.
In April 2024, two visionaries (being one of them myself) signed a contract committing them to double dating in the serial nature during the Fall 2024 semester. Before this point, there had been whispers and “what ifs” surrounding the idea of serial double dating, but neither of us believed it could be a reality. We didn’t think the world was ready. But greatness can’t wait for others.
Surely no one was ready when Otto Frederick Rohwedder took a knife to bread in 1928, but once he sliced the first loaf, he never looked back. Our metaphorical knife was our double dating contract, complete with fourteen clauses and signed by both parties, a witness and a notary. The idea was simple: go on as many double dates with as many different people as possible for one semester. Significantly, all these dates were to take place at Applebee’s, a well-deserved company to reap the financial rewards of our double dating escapades. All summer we eagerly anticipated our semester of double dates. I even made a vision board. We thought we were ready. We had the heart and the passion, but our mission was harder than anticipated.
The serial double daters faced many setbacks. Our main obstacle was finding people to ask on a double date. I can attribute this to the fact that the serial double daters have such awesome friends that they rarely feel the need to meet new people. Although the defeat of the serial double daters may seem depressing, in truth, it is a testament to the strength of our existing friendships. So, admittedly, some portion of the serial double daters’ letdown is our own fault. But this is only half the story, and I would be remiss if I didn’t blame other people for my failures.
There just aren’t enough cool people on this campus willing to double date. Of those we did ask to double date (and some that we begged), none seemed D.T.S.D.D. (down to serial double date). Around half of them cited not having a friend to bring on a double date — which would be sad if I didn’t think it was an excuse.
The main issue is a lack of excitement about serial double dating in general. No matter how many times I emphasize the serial nature, people don’t seem to understand the concept. I firmly believe the ideal serial double date is with two people who believe in the awesomeness of the serial double dating model. With no one who understands serial double dating, who are we to double date? The lack of willingness to serial double date makes me scared about the dangerously low levels of whimsy at this university.
Finally, these supposed “friends” I previously claimed to have were absolutely no help in securing us a double date. Rather than double dates, this semester was filled with promises emptier than a looted treasure chest. The only lesson I learned from this failed serial double dating experience is that we’re on our own out here, and don’t let anyone comfort you into thinking otherwise. And so, with all this considered, looking back, it is not surprising that we have failed to secure even one double date.
My only regret is that I haven’t gone to Applebees once this semester. With TGI Fridays filing for bankruptcy and Dine Brands (Applebee's parent company) missing its Q3 revenue expectations, I worry about the outlook of the casual restaurant chain industry — an issue for which I bear a heavy responsibility. When I think about the waitresses left untipped and the Notre Dame men wasting another semester without dining at Applebee's, I can’t help but feel the weight of our failed ambitions sitting heavy on my conscience.
I just finished my final midterm and my roommates are (prematurely) putting up Christmas decorations, which means the semester is coming to a close. I have watched many weekends come and go without a double date, and I have lost most confidence that I will ever order an entrée from my favorite franchise. Maybe we can rally a comeback in the final stretch — anyone who wants to serial double date please contact me (I say in the least desperate way possible). But in the end, I have come to terms with being a failed serial double dater. Despite not going on any double dates, I still have the friendship of my fellow failed serial double dater. So perhaps the real serial double dates were the friends we made along the way.
Allison Abplanalp is a junior finance and accounting major. If she could change one thing about the English language, she would make "a lot" one word. Her least favorite month is March because every year she is devastated when she fails to pick the perfect March Madness bracket. You can contact Allison at aabplana@nd.edu.
