21-year-old Mia hasn’t had much luck meeting a partner organically, but she’s reluctant to give dating apps a whirl. Like countless others, Mia finds it difficult to gauge if she feels a connection with someone when chatting to them virtually – but another reason why she’s hesitant to download an app like Hinge is simply because she finds the whole idea embarrassing. “I’ve just felt too ashamed to do it. When it comes to the online dating world, I feel all of these self-conscious, negative feelings,” she says, adding that she finds most dating app profiles “cringey”. “It’s a terrible way to think because online dating is so common nowadays,” she continues. “But for me there’s this feeling of shame attached to it.”
It’s no secret that countless young people like Mia are finding it difficult to date right now. From X to TikTok, the internet is overrun by people bemoaning the ongoing dating crisis. If you want more concrete evidence that this is happening, research has found that Gen Z really do have less casual sex than previous generations and the number of single young adults is rising. A number of factors have catalysed this sorry state of affairs, from the advent of dating apps and subsequent privatisation of intimacy, to the widening political divide between men and women, to men being unable to keep up with women’s (rightfully) rising standards. But another (and often overlooked) reason why so many of us are struggling in the dating arena right now is Gen Z’s aversion to anything remotely cringeworthy.
We Gen Z are palpably more aloof, cynical and ironic than our earnest millennial predecessors, and it’s likely this widespread attitude has largely arisen as a means of coping with constantly feeling ‘perceived’. “[Using] social media increases people’s self-consciousness,” says Dr Ben Marder, senior lecturer in marketing at Edinburgh University and an expert on the ‘chilling’ effects of social media. “Gone are the days when your actions can only be seen by people in the same room as you. Now, people are conscious of being broadcasted […] there is a ‘behave like everyone’s watching’ mentality.” It’s a phenomenon writer Ocean Vuong also commented on a recent interview: “[Young people] are more and more self-conscious of trying […] There’s this cringe culture: ‘I don’t want to be perceived as trying and having an effortful attempt at my dreams’.”
This instinct to self-censor, present yourself as detached and ‘cool’, and pander to the imagined audience in your head is also permeating the way we date. While everyone, regardless of age, is scared of rejection, it’s becoming increasingly clear that young people are particularly fearful of it: a 2024 report from Hinge found that over half (56 per cent) of Gen Z daters claimed that fear of rejection has stopped them from pursuing a potential relationship, and that we are 10 per cent more likely to have experienced this than millennial daters. Relatedly, Gen Z are 50 per cent more likely than millennials to delay responding to texts to avoid seeming “overeager”.
“Expressing genuine interest or desire for connection is frequently seen as risky or embarrassing, while appearing detached or indifferent is a way to maintain control,” says Dr Jenny van Hooff, a sociologist at Manchester Metropolitan University, who has researched young people’s aversion to vulnerability when dating. “Emotions become bargaining chips: whoever shows less feeling holds more power.” She explains that this dynamic, “where no one feels safe enough to push things forward”, has catalysed the prevalence of ‘situationships’ in modern dating culture.
27-year-old Matt says he regularly downplays his emotions when dating. “In the gay community, wanting a serious or long-term relationship doesn’t feel common. I feel as though I’m made to accept that situationships and a lack of commitment are the norm,” he says. “So I definitely hold back when dating. When in a situationship, I try to mask my feelings due to fear of rejection.” Matt adds that the only time has ever “felt close to a real relationship” was when he dated an Australian man, Josh*. “When we first met, I already knew it had an end date, so I threw everything into it,” Matt explains, adding that the situation naturally came to an end after Josh returned to Australia.
Appearing detached or indifferent is a way to maintain control
Harry*, 27, believes that there’s increasingly a stigma around dating despite it being a “very natural occurrence that is fun and normal”, and acknowledges that he has been guilty of judging others for taking dating seriously. While he has realised that he was “just projecting [his] own insecurities onto other people”, he adds that our culture does little to make people feel positive about dating. “Dating is an arena where things can go wrong, and in that way it rubs up against a society which continues to offer very little protection for if you don’t quite get things right,” he says. “On principle, it really shouldn’t matter if someone from work discovers your kinks on Feeld, for example, but in reality it can lead to professional repercussions […] it’s no wonder that we are extremely self-conscious of what other people think, and end up self-policing through embarrassment as a result.”
This chimes with Dr van Hooff. “With the rise of apps like Tea [and groups like Are We Dating the Same Guy?], where users – mostly women – can publicly share screenshots and warn others about bad behaviour, there’s now a very real possibility that private interactions can be made public, rapidly and without context,” she explains. “This creates a heightened sense of surveillance in romantic and sexual encounters.” She adds that in this context, where screenshots of “a poorly worded message or an emotionally vulnerable moment” can go viral overnight, “many are understandably more cautious, more guarded, and more performative in how they present themselves when dating. The fear is of public humiliation rather than just romantic rejection.”
Of course, maintaining a veneer of irony and detachedness is hardly conducive to finding love, which demands vulnerability and sincerity. And while it is difficult to kill off the audience of followers we carry around with us in our minds – or entirely eliminate the possibility of being publicly humiliated for something innocuous – we can’t let our romantic lives be governed by fear. Now that Harry has started dating again for the first time after a long-term relationship, he’s “looking to be more open and less embarrassed about the whole thing, and also explore sexuality and non-monogamy a bit more fluidly for the first time.” Matt is similarly trying to change his approach. “After years of trying to play it cool, I’m now way more true to myself and my character,” he says. “I’m realising accepting embarrassment is part of finding love.”
*Name has been changed
