By Charlotte Kerby, Deputy Features Editor
Fuelled by the release of Chante Joseph’s Vogue article ‘Is Having a Boyfriend Embarrassing Now?’, Beth Nugent’s analysis of the anti-boyfriend rhetoric rests in a deeper network of intimacy insecurity, a fulfilment of the boyfriend void in female friendship, and a welcome goodbye to the sordid days of putting up with underwhelming male attention. And it is highly compelling. However, I’d propose that our anti-boyfriend culture represents a hegemonic shift in our generation's social media engagement, that reflects changes in the social capital of a relationship for women.
We’re a generation that likes to uncover secrets. We post coded songs on Instagram stories to send aimed messages to past flings, become passionate investigators in the details of new celebrity drama and are unrelenting analysers of the hidden meanings in lyrics of the newest albums. We’ve got an eye for the details, and we LOVE to investigate. I believe the aversion to brag about one’s boyfriend is part of a greater revolution in how we engage with women’s lives online.
We all knew a girl growing up who had a mysterious boyfriend never to be seen on her socials. It was cryptic, tantalizing and frankly admirable. She was able to mystify herself, simply by concealing some of her highest teenage social capital, in turn increasing its value. And it seems we’ve all followed suit. The refreshing aesthetic of prioritising the presentation of our own identity over the identity of our partner on our socials has taken over our online cultural rhetoric. And whilst it can be seen as a huge win for feminism, it’s also an advert for the enigmatic, self-sufficient cool girl persona.
'Secretive back of the head shots, a mysterious hand on the table at dinner dates, and shadowy photos of silhouettes on balconies all convey an intelligent lean towards the engagement intrigue of mysterious shots'.
Case in point: when Madeline Argy was rumoured to be dating Central Cee, my TikTok feed was flooded with analytical videos investigating the exact place the infamous pair were located at, when, and with who. Was there a location cross over? Isn’t that the exact hoodie Madeline wore in her recent Instagram dump? I was all over it, and I know some of you will have been to. I also remember people making comment videos about how Madeline’s choice to conceal her boyfriend’s celebrity identity was a savvy choice for the rising social media star. Preventing her feed from being influenced by his image protected her professional career development as well. In my opinion the social media revolution that followed after was more a result of feminist independence than aversion to ‘shitty’ boyfriend behaviour.
Of course celebrity presentations of their relationships are the result of an extreme amount of media training. This only makes their use of the trend more artful; secretive back of the head shots, a mysterious hand on the table at dinner dates, and shadowy photos of silhouettes on balconies all convey an intelligent lean towards the engagement intrigue of mysterious shots. Working out whether someone is in a relationship from their social media presence nowadays has become more of a cryptic game than an obvious box tick. And it’s a trend that I see, albeit more subtly, in queer relationships too.
Ironically, Joseph’s original angle on the trending priority of female focused online content over blatant couple pics caused an exact regression in said trend. It kickstarted a defensive social media trend of the nation’s loved up sweethearts posting relationship centred content with their beau, marking their territory with an online presence that loudly celebrates their man. Maybe such a movement lies in the long-awaited fulfilment of the teenage pursuit of a relationship; I’ve seen plenty of responses voicing frustration that girls have finally gotten a boyfriend, and now Vogue’s mad about it?!
I get it, it’s frustrating and difficult when you are one of the last people in your group to get into a relationship. You should be allowed to shout about your experience of love. But I don’t think Joseph’s article was trying to shame you into silence. I think she was just pointing out that it’s interesting to think about how there was once a time that a relationship would define you, and we’re no longer in it.
Beth Nugent
Gone are the days of waiting around in regency ballrooms for Rege-Jean Page to ask you to dance. You don’t need to relate to Bridget Jones crying into an ice cream tub anymore, or Carrie’s entire Sex and the City storyline going back and forth and back and forth between Big and crying alone.
The moral of the story is this: If you want to shout about your partner online, that’s fine, we’re happy for you. But thank God it doesn’t define your social capital anymore. And whilst you’re perfectly within your right to plaster your partner all over your feed, don’t underestimate the engagement potential of a secretive post. It might just boost your like count. But maybe tone down the PDA a little bit or you might find yourself featured on the next @siblingsordating post.
Featured Image: Jakub Klucký / Unsplash
Do you think representations of boyfriends online are driven by a desire to provoke curiosity?
