This is what I hate about dating - when you just don't know where

When Hannah Brown said, “This is what I hate about dating — when you just don’t know where you stand. I’m pretty honest, I’ll say, ‘Hey I don’t know what’s going on,’ but I don’t like the game of it. Like, do we like each other? Great, well let’s explore that,” she was not simply describing the confusion of modern love — she was expressing a timeless yearning of the human heart: the desire for clarity, honesty, and authenticity in relationships. Beneath her words lies an ancient truth, older than the languages of romance — that love, though tender and mysterious, should never be a game of masks and hidden motives. For the heart, once awakened, does not crave cleverness; it craves truth.

In the world of dating, as in the world of politics or war, people have often been taught to strategize — to conceal their intentions, to measure every word, to protect their pride more fiercely than they pursue connection. Yet Hannah’s cry cuts through this illusion. “I don’t like the game of it,” she says, and her voice echoes the wisdom of those who came before — the philosophers and poets who knew that love cannot thrive in deceit. The ancients spoke of Eros, the god of passion, who punished those who sought to control or manipulate his power. For love, in its truest form, belongs only to the brave — those who dare to be sincere even when sincerity makes them vulnerable.

Her declaration, “Do we like each other? Great, well let’s explore that,” is not naïve simplicity — it is sacred courage. To stand before another and say, “I wish to know the truth of what we share,” is to honor both souls. It rejects the shadow play of assumption and invites the light of understanding. In the age of illusion — where gestures are filtered and emotions performed — her words return us to the primal honesty of the heart. The origin of such clarity lies not in modernity, but in humanity itself. Even in ancient Egypt, love poems carved upon papyrus spoke not of hesitation but of directness: “I wish to see you, to know you, to walk beside you.” The longing for openness has always been a mark of the pure-hearted.

Consider the story of Antony and Cleopatra, two souls whose love burned beyond reason. They were not cautious, nor calculating; they risked empires to explore what drew them together. Though their tale ended in tragedy, their courage still stirs the imagination centuries later. For the heart remembers those who chose truth over pretense, even when the cost was great. So too does Hannah’s quote carry a kind of quiet rebellion — a rejection of the timid half-love that hides behind uncertainty, and a call to face feeling with the boldness of those who would rather fail honestly than succeed through deceit.

Her dislike of “not knowing where you stand” reveals a deeper moral truth: that uncertainty is not romance — it is confusion, and confusion is the enemy of peace. Love should never be a battlefield of guessing and second-guessing; it should be a partnership of discovery. The wise understand that games may win admiration, but they do not build intimacy. In the language of the ancients, clarity was a virtue, for the one who spoke plainly was seen as possessing integrity of soul. To say, “I do not know what’s going on,” as Hannah does, is not weakness — it is strength. It is the strength of honesty, which endures far longer than the fleeting charm of mystery.

There is also humility in her words. She does not demand control, nor claim to have all answers — she merely asks for truth. This humility is the soil from which lasting love grows. Many seek to dominate relationships, to script their outcomes, but the truly wise seek only to understand. “Let’s explore that,” she says — an invitation to growth, to vulnerability, to the sacred act of learning another person’s heart. It is the same spirit that guided the ancient lovers, who saw love not as conquest but as journey — a voyage through unknown waters, navigated by mutual trust.

From this reflection, we learn that love is not meant to be performed, but lived. The lesson is simple yet profound: speak truthfully, ask openly, and never fear transparency. The one who cannot be honest is not ready to love, for love is the great unveiling of the self. To all who seek connection, follow this path: abandon the games, embrace clarity, and let your heart speak plainly. When you do, you will not need to wonder “where you stand,” for the ground beneath you will be real, and the bond you build will rest upon the unshakable foundation of truth.

Thus, let Hannah Brown’s words be remembered as a call to courage in love — to reject the games of uncertainty and to choose sincerity, even when it risks the heart. For the ancients taught that love, like fire, can only burn brightly when it is fed with air — and honesty is that sacred air. Let your love be clear, your words be true, and your heart unguarded. For the one who loves with honesty and courage may stumble, but they will never be lost.