A few weeks ago, I went out with a guy who is also a work acquaintance. We had some drinks, split an app, talked about university, our careers, travel—the type of topics that are personal but not that personal. At the end of the night, we walked back to the train station, and as we bid each other good night, he said something to me that left me stunned, confused and a little pissed: “I wasn’t sure if this was a date or not.”

In my opinion, we were two work acquaintances getting to know each other and enjoying each other’s company. There had been no mention of a “date” or anything else to suggest there were possible romantic undertones to our meeting. If he didn’t know what we were doing, I sure as hell didn’t know either.

I hate to say it, but that wasn’t the first time I’ve been out on a date without my knowledge of it being a date. Back in acting school, I had a scene partner named Matt. We discovered that we both grew up in the GTA, were big fans of Kings of Leon and loved “The Godfather” trilogy, so we bonded pretty quickly. We hung out a lot, even partook in introducing Canadian Thanksgiving to our American friends, but nothing romantic ever transpired between us.

Then one night, Matt took me to this fancy restaurant I had mentioned to him months earlier before. We shared a three-course meal and a couple of bottles of wine—all of which Matt insisted he pay for. It wasn’t until we were getting into a cab when Matt sprung his true intentions for me with the old “you’re going back to my place” bit. Not only did I have to break it to him that “Uh, no, I’m not,” I also had to face that fact that my hang-outs with Matt obviously meant something very different to him than they had to me.

I felt guilty and upset that I had hurt Matt’s feelings, and we ultimately “broke up,” which sucked because I lost a good friend. But that’s the thing: I wasn’t just a friend to Matt, and I had no idea he felt that way! I honestly believe that if Matt had only been clear with his intentions from the get-go, a lot of heartache could have been spared.

But that uncertainty, that ambiguous “what are we doing?” is a prime example of how fucked up our current dating world is: no one has a goddamn clue if they’re dating or just “hanging out.” And, according to some studies that were published earlier this year, this Cupid confusion is pretty much an epidemic. Courtships are more casual now than they were back in our parents’ day. Our moms were telephoned by suitors and explicitly asked, “What are you doing on Friday night? I’d like to take you out on a date.” We get a text that says, “’Sup? Where R U?”

Sure, we can blame texting, Tweeting and our lazy reliance on simplistic emoticons to express complex human emotions. It’s easy to get swept up by the idea that if we “hang out” with a person a lot, then he must like like us, or how to get hopeful and romantic over a single smiley face (even if that does sound slightly pathetic). The real truth of this dating dilemma is that we–our insecure, scared, complicated selves—are to blame.

We all know how scary it is to lay our hearts on the line, and risk being rejected. Being “vulnerable” and “intimate” (and I don’t mean sexually) makes us squeamish and scared. However, we need to assert our desires and intentions to one another because we deserve to be truthful—to ourselves, and to people we’re interested in. In the end, it will help us get where we want to go romantically without wasting time in Love Limbo. Love Limbo suuuuucks. No one’s ever happy or satisfied there, and we are all worthy of being immensely happy and very, verrrry satisfied in our love lives.

So next time you want to date someone, say to her, “Do you want to go out on a date with me?” That way, you both know exactly what’s going down, and no one is left feeling duped and/or like shit. And if you actually do that on the phone rather than via text, you get major bonus points.