By Kitty Atherton, Third Year, Philosophy
It’s no secret that the dating scene is a different beast from what it once was. It can be unbelievably infantilising to speak with parents who breezily suggest ‘just meet somebody naturally darling! Just go to a bar, the beach, a supermarket, even the tip!’ they say, as if that’s really a thing anymore. So are there fewer fish in the sea? Were the 80s and 90s just heaving with endless eligible dating partners loitering on street corners? Or, bleaker still, is there a window in which we can meet that special someone, which promptly closes once we graduate?
Just a prelim before I comment on this; I actually do have a boyfriend, who I happened to meet ‘organically’ (although that does evoke an image of growing him like a mushroom. Or black mould, perhaps). Everything I am about to say is actually massively hypocritical, although I do have a strong feeling that I am right and that it’s important enough for me to say anyway.
The reason that I put such emphasis on graduating is that something seems to change once you graduate. That line from Before Sunset (2004) comes to mind: ‘I guess when you're young, you just believe there'll be many people with whom you'll connect with. Later in life, you realise it only happens a few times’. When we are young, there are constant opportunities to meet new people our own age. Moving from primary school to senior, to sixth form and then finally university brings with it a fresh new group of peers every time, leaving us with the illusion that life is a constant stream of dating opportunities.
Alas, this is not the case. My graduated and working friends all give similar reports. Colleagues are more often than not one of three things; old, married, or just plain grim - no fish there then. The people you have already met throughout your life become your social ecosystem, something that’s tough to break out of considering working takes up rather more time than university. Adding to the problem, all the places where one did meet people are less available when you get older - unless you want to go clubbing three times a week whilst holding down a full time job, which I imagine might get you fired pretty fast.
The underlying problem is that there are just no third spaces, which the BBC defines as ‘spaces that are neither home nor work, but locations somewhere in-between’. Pubs close earlier, club prices have skyrocketed, and most places expect you to buy something before sitting down anyway. And that’s not even mentioning the serious lack of options if you don’t want to drink. From the conversations I’ve had, the effect of this is that if you haven’t met Prince or Princess Charming during the narrow window of university, your chances become much thinner.
Of course, the apps! Why can’t all these silly people just embrace the miracle of modern technology and jump on one of the many dating apps, all of which promise to find you ‘The One’. Unfortunately, I suspect that this total drought has been caused by chronic overuse of dating apps. I’m sure that the idea of ‘sex on tap’ - much akin to just Uber Eats-ing a shag really – is totally stifling our ability to connect. Like all good things ruined by our phones, removing the need to actually take some kind of risk when you meet somebody also removes any kind of passion.
Lucy Hillier
My memories of dating apps all seem rather flat; I never could muster much emotion about somebody I could only see on a screen, and I could never be bothered to actually go on a date. Perhaps the illusion of abundance is too much for us to cope with. Perhaps that was just my experience. Either way, how many people do you know in loving Hinge-ationships?
If meeting someone in the sweaty overpriced dungeons of a student club is frowned upon beyond graduation, and Hinge rarely extends beyond an awkward pint and meaningless sex, there must be some less soul destroying answer. My graduated friend and I were discussing this. The options seem to be dredging up various goblins from the past (best left there I always say), or, more hopefully, joining some sort of club. We’ve so far considered run clubs, French, choir, literature groups, supper clubs, pottery, Ceilidh dancing, theatre, life drawing and cold swimming. I’ve spoken to so many that have found it hard to meet new people once in the grips of a 9-5.
I suppose my conclusion is this; if there is no third space for our generation, then we must carve one out for ourselves. When the apps aren’t working and we’ve outgrown the club, it becomes our job to reinvent a better dating scene.
Featured image: Epigram / Amaya Lewis-Patel
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