Gen Z's risk-averse behavior makes love elusive. Are we all going to die alone?

USA Today

14-02-2025

When Sabrina Carpenter crooned about the lack of worthwhile men on 'Slim Pickins,' she became an oracle for a generation luckless in the dating department: 'If I can't have the one I love, I guess it's you that I'll be kissin'.' Even when she lowers her standards she still comes up dissatisfied. It seems like no matter how hard she tries, she just can't get love right ‒ as is the case for a lot of Gen Z.
Members of Generation Z, born between 1997 and 2012, seem to have a unique problem finding and keeping romantic partners. When explaining our woes, we tend to name the same culprits: social media, dating apps, anxiety, etc. These are the main things my friends lamented when I asked their thoughts on modern dating.
I also notice that we often get very solipsistic about dating and fail to acknowledge how the world around us isn't conducive to romance. America is politically fraught, and our polarization has seeped into our pursuit of love. For one, boys and girls aren't getting along politically as young women are more progressive and young men are more conservative.
Inflation and other economic factors leave us with little money for dates and other expenses that come with dating. All that paired with this generation's overall feelings of hopelessness, nihilism and existential dread put love on the back burner.
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With Gen Z experiencing a world so far removed from that of any previous generation, I couldn't help but wonder: Why has love become so elusive for Gen Zers? And is it possible for us to find love at what seems to be the end of the world?
Gen Z's risk-averse nature leaves us in certain 'situationships'
Gen Z's heightened anxieties about the world around us have led many to adopt rather risk-averse behaviors: We're having less sex; we're drinking less.
These behaviors aren't bad on their own, but when examined with our increased mental health diagnoses they can become indicative of greater concerns.
Gen Z's aversion to risk trickles into the way we pursue (or don't pursue) relationships. Love is inherently scary; allowing someone to know the deepest parts of you requires vulnerability. To circumvent this, we keep people at arm's length, finding ways to commit that don't trigger our fears of rejection and isolation.
Enter "situationships."
The New York Times defines a situationship as 'a romantic or sexual relationship in which both parties do not communicate clearly to define their status. Unlike those who are 'friends with benefits,' neither party in a situationship is certain of what the other is to them.
In the United States, half of people ages 18-34 have been in a situationship, according to research from YouGov.
Situationships help to assuage our fears surrounding the risks that come with committing to someone. Because there are technically no labels, no one is owed loyalty or fidelity. It gets even more insidious as those in situationships act as though they are in committed relationships: There's an emotional and physical connection, there are introductions to friends and family, and there are intimate details shared.
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To much of Gen Z, the blurred lines of situationships are easier to handle than the rigidity of traditional relationships. But what makes situationships uniquely different is that oftentimes there is an emotional imbalance. One is perfectly satisfied with the laissez-faire approach while the other is left pining for the relationship to progress into something more meaningful. They stick around hoping that, if they continue to give their partner enough love and affection, their partner will eventually love them the way they desire ‒ something that very seldom comes to fruition.
In examining my friends' dating experiences, I've come to learn that situationships hardly ever progress into something more. It seems like Gen Z wants terribly to be in committed relationships ‒ it's all we talk about on TikTok ‒ but few are actually putting in the work to make that happen.
Situationship culture inherently views others as disposable and requires an unhealthy amount of emotional detachment. In a generation so consumed by the digital world, it's easy to dehumanize others.
Instagram story like-alationships
Gen Z is obsessed with our own perception. According to a 2023 Statista survey, 61% of dating app users in the United States are those ages 30-49, whereas only 26% of people ages 18-29 use online dating services. Gen Z's dating app exodus can be blamed partly on our hesitancy to admit our feelings out of the fear of rejection or being perceived as cringe.
In Gen Z's dating world, the biggest faux pas is to be seen trying.
It's why situationships ‒ and Instagram story like-alationships ‒ have become so commonplace.
Moreover, our increased connectivity has turned dating into a game of who can want the other less. We make our affection known through strategic Instagram story likes and DMs, and every text is thoroughly planned out to appear interesting enough just to keep their attention. He took an hour to text you back? You take two or else risk coming off too needy.
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The disposability to situationships is also bolstered by this digital connectivity. The dating scene is no longer limited to those in our schools, workplaces or immediate areas like it was for our parents.
Our new ability to connect with anyone from anywhere has created an illusion of choice that disincentivizes commitment. Why be exclusive with one person when someone else even better could slide into your DMs?
Gen Z may be risk-averse, but we are not love-averse
It's pretty trite to complain about how social media promotes false realities. I feel like most people realize that the flowery love lives most influencers choose to show is only part of a more nuanced, complicated picture. But it seems that so many Gen Zers look to the internet for help traversing romance.
Relationship content runs rampant online. It's an entire industry with people giving pedantic and unrealistic advice that doesn't reflect the complexity of human nature. Not every relationship is picture-perfect. Not every love story is ripped from the pages of a fairytale.
It seems like so much of my generation is unwilling to exhibit the patience needed to sustain healthy relationships. My friend Hollyann Purvis, a New York resident, put it best: 'Gen Z feels frustrated when the instant gratification we get day to day on technology doesn't translate to interpersonal relationships right off the bat.'
Love is worth the wait and the potential of rejection. It's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. Isn't that what they say?
Gen Z may be risk-averse, but we are not love-averse. We desperately want to be in happy, fulfilling relationships even if we get in our own way.
Kofi Mframa is a columnist and digital producer for USA TODAY and the USA TODAY Network.