Why does it have to be one foot in and one foot out? Is it a survival instinct ingrained in some of us? Does our past really dictate our future that much? I wonder as I sit here, contemplating my own love affair. I love my partner. I believe he’s the one. I’ve never met someone more kind and patient. Sometimes, I sit in our mundane life and zoom in on specific parts of his body, like his hands when he wears rings. I take mental pictures of that, or the nook of his neck, and how his silver chain hangs right under his chest hair. When he embraces me, that moment is another mental picture. If I could capture every inch of his body, focusing on the most beautiful details I’ve found, and keep the book to myself—never showing it to him—I would.
It seems that, in a world where we’re constantly on edge, dating in our 20s and 30s has become a game of survival.But why do we humans, often battered by past experiences, live in constant fear now? Always keeping one shoe on, ready to put the other shoe on if needed and run? Does that mean the relationship is stagnant, superficial, strong or is it just that we’re human—full of emotions, fears, and desires—putting ourselves out there despite what that inner voice tells us? That voice that says, “This is not forever, this feeling will fade, one day he’ll look at you and say, ‘You’re batshit crazy. I’m out of here.'” Is that voice really wrong? Or is it right?
Dating in your 20s and 30s has become a game of who can hold out the longest. No one wants to bare themselves anymore, and it’s no surprise in an age where social media presents unattainable goals. Instagram for example sets boundaries we should follow, flags that are green and red—hell, why not make them yellow or beige? Whatever they could mean. Yellow for a person who is always positive and pours it onto others, beige for someone who… well, is just beige (I know, I know, but under the right fashion sense, beige can be powerfu)l If you breathe this way, your moon rising is somehow an indicator of whatever flaw you might have. TikTok gives you instant gratification, maybe more than your special cabinet. It takes five minutes to finish, right? But it only takes 30 seconds to swipe to the next video. What used to be a platform of freedom now seems like one of exposure and hatred and fear. So why would anyone want to date in this new era?
What happened to casual dating, serious dating, marriages, relationships? Even friendships. We go months without seeing each other, without responding to messages, but we’ll send dozens of memes throughout the week.
Are there still some of us out there—hopeless romantics, stuck in the 2000s, who crave real, human interaction? Or have we all been swept away by the speed and ease of modern dating?
Best,
Tessa Black