I’m sure many of you have experienced a DTR.

No, I’m not talking about a Deadly Tarantula Rampage, nor a Decidedly Terrible Revision, not even a Determinedly Terrific Recipe, but a “define-the-relationship” discussion, typically with someone who’s a significant other or someone who’s either on their way to becoming one, or not.

DTRs can happen at any point in a friendship that’s intimate enough to warrant a reappraisal of where said friendship is going. A more serious DTR chat can come after several casual dates: “So, what’s this whole thing about, anyway?”

In other words, if the scintillating scent of romance is lingering in the air, a good DTR talk can either confirm or deny one’s intentions and attractions, rather along the lines of a government disavowing or confirming that one of its agents has been captured behind enemy lines.

If such a statement is proffered, and both of you (or perhaps one of you) wants to remain firmly in the friend zone, that agent — in our case, the budding romance — is shot unglamorously in the back alley of loneliness, its lifeless form abandoned in the chilly, moonless night.

I hate comparing an unrequited crush to Cold War-style espionage casualties, but the plain truth is that DTRs can be painful things.

If “tradition wears a snowy beard” and “romance is always young,” as the poet John Greenleaf Whittier (1807–1892) wrote, a DTR is the time to shave or not shave, and it seems to be our generation’s first threshold of commitment.

If a DTR conversation ends with a mutual agreement to be “more than friends” and a heart-stopping leap into the mysterious realm of romance, it can be a wonderful experience indeed. It’s like those cheesy montage scenes in movies where a pair of characters is destined to fall in love and one experiences the acute sensation of “twitterpation,” heightened only by the mesmerizing awareness that, yes, the other person is twittered toward you, too.

If one of the two parties privy to a DTR does not, in fact, think of the other person that way, clammy hands and headaches may result. Common trigger phases for this not-as-fun outcome include: “You’re more of a brother/sister to me,” “I don’t want to ruin our friendship” or something along the lines of, “I’m not ready to be in a relationship right now *cough* with you.”

This can bring sudden and severe “un-twitterpative” effects, including the impression of a rain cloud appearing suddenly over your location and an “emo-ism” that makes James Blunt’s “You’re Beautiful” seem like a birthday ballad.

Yet, life goes on. A DTR that does not lead to marriage and babies is not a failure. In fact, I would argue that it’s a good thing. At least you didn’t keep up some sort of ill-defined, half-hearted romance that resulted in both individuals becoming ultimately disillusioned with love in general and with each other in particular.

I still have my doubts about the phenomenon of love and have sensed my own bitter antipathy toward the puppy love exemplified by the many couples cropping up across our campus this spring.

That’s not especially relevant to discussing the utility of a DTR. In the olden days, I suspect our forebearers called such dialogues “talking.”

But if we have to give such talks a special name, they still serve the same purpose and are good to have if confusion comes up when navigating the sometimes perilous border between friendship and romance.

I’d rather stab myself in the foot with a sharpened pencil or jump into a mosh pit at a rock concert, but, in the end, I have never really regretted defining my relationships.

You shouldn’t either — have a DTR.

Reach columnist Will Mari at opinion@dailyuw.com.