I've always felt an odd kinship with John The Savage, the character from Huxley's Brave New World. He desired to prove his love by killing a lion, doing anything to prove his worthiness. Modern girls don't go for that schtick.
Tumbling into bed without thought, conversation, some commitment, has it's place, not in true love. For me the ritual of dipping a toe in the ocean, easing in to the waist, then plunging is the start of romance, stepping off in the way I intend to continue. It feels right. As does a little showing off, swimming to that distant buoy and back, doing something to let her know you care what she thinks of you. It's old fashioned and crazy, but there it is.
The modern way is to shag first, ask questions later. I can't dig it. It obviously doesn't work very well.
John was paraded around as a curiosity, an anachronism from a forgotten culture. I've always felt an odd kinship with John.