There was a time—not that long ago—when dating had a rhythm, a kind of choreography. Boy meets girl. Boy shows interest. Boy courts girl with a little charm, a little consistency, and perhaps a handwritten note if he was raised right. The girls, of course, played their parts, but the roles were clear, even if they were flawed. But in today's Gen Z dating pool, that rhythm has been replaced by a bizarre and frustrating dance of who-can-care-less, with music that is all vibes, no lyrics. The girls are tired. The chase has switched hands. Masculinity, at least in its soft, grounded form, appears to be on vacation. And worst of all, we are all pretending this mess is normal.

Romantic effort, once considered praiseworthy, is today something to downplay or avoid completely. Calling a girl to say you miss her or planning a simple date is often ridiculed or dismissed as "doing too much." Everyone’s trying not to care first. It's a never-ending fight of nonchalance, with the winner being the person who appears the least emotionally attached. It's no longer about making connections; it's a frigid game of emotional chicken. Gen Z men, in particular, appear to have adopted a cool detachment as their primary flirting language, sprinkling attention like confetti and withdrawing as soon as things begin to feel intentional. It's not that they don't want love; it's just that they prefer it without the risk of effort.

This culture of effort-aversion has left many Gen Z women confused, even exhausted. We’re navigating a dating space where interest must be coded, masked in memes, obscured by ambiguous “wyd” texts. The result is a kind of emotional limbo, where clarity is suspicious and true pursuit is rare. To ask for consistency is to risk being called clingy. To express interest is to become “too available.” And so, women shrink, adjust, and play the game—hoping that maybe, just maybe, if they act chill enough, someone will finally step up. But deep down, we know: love shouldn’t be this passive. Courtship shouldn’t feel like pulling teeth.

The Fall of Masculine Clarity

It’s not that Gen Z women are opposed to emotional men. In fact, many of us actually welcome softness—men who cry, who go to therapy, who understand subtlety. But somewhere along the line, softness became a justification for emotional withdrawal. The “soft boy” persona—gentle aesthetic, poetic captions, moodboard masculinity—is often presented without the framework of purpose. He’s expressive, sure. He might even say he likes you. But he won’t define things. He won’t even initiate difficult conversations. He’ll tell you he’s “not ready for anything serious” while doing everything to keep you emotionally attached. It’s softness without stability. It’s all vibes and no vision. 

This display of vulnerability oftentimes leaves women carrying the emotional weight of the relationship. You're expected to understand his trauma, deal with his mood swings, and offer grace when he ghosts you for a week to "process." And, while empathy is valuable, it should never be a one-way track. Being emotionally open as a man does not mean opting out from emotional responsibilities. We still crave grounded masculinity—one that communicates effectively, pursues with intention, and understands that romance requires more than feelings. It requires follow-through.

Situationships: The New Relationship Nobody Asked For

Call it modern love or collective confusion, but situationships have become the most popular romantic setup among Gen Z. They're everywhere: flirty texting that never leads to anything serious, the "we're just vibing" stage that drags on for months, and the "let's not label it" excuse that conveniently keeps people stuck in emotional limbo. Initially, they seem liberating. There's no pressure or expectations. However, they eventually become cages of uncertainty, where one person is secretly hoping for more while the other is enjoying the perks of a relationship without the responsibility.

For women especially, the emotional toll of situationships is real. You devote time, energy, sometimes even physical intimacy—only to realize you were the only one treating it like something serious. And when you finally ask, “What are we?” you’re met with silence, or worse, guilt-tripped for wanting clarity. Situationships thrive on ambiguity. And in a dating culture that idolizes chillness, women are often told to mute their desires, be “cool,” not rock the boat. But asking for direction isn’t a crime. Wanting more isn’t pressure—it’s honesty. And we shouldn’t have to apologise for needing real answers.

Chivalry Is Not the Enemy

For some reason, modern dating has concluded that chivalry implies patriarchy. The idea that a man should hold a door, plan a thoughtful date, or even pay for dinner is suddenly debatable—as if romance is inherently bad. But here's the thing: being purposeful is not oppressive. Effort is not a threat. Many Gen Z women still appreciate being chased in deliberate, polite ways—not because we are helpless or old-fashioned, but because it demonstrates maturity. It shows interest, initiative, and care. Yet, somewhere in the name of "equality," the bare minimum has become negotiable. And that’s not equality. That's emotional laziness dressed up as modernity.

There is a significant difference between gender roles and mutual effort. No one is asking to be babied or controlled. We want energy that matches and flows both ways. A man who remembers what you said about your favourite food. A man who makes the first move based on presence rather than ego. A man who understands how to communicate interest beyond the occasional fire emoji on your story. Chivalry is not about male domination; it is about emotional intelligence. And it shouldn't become extinct because we're all trying to avoid "simping."

Singlehood Is Not a Punishment

The beauty of the Gen Z era is that women no longer see singleness as a holding cell for marriage. We are building lives, careers, healing, and creating. We are not sitting around waiting to be chosen. And while independence is great, it also leads to loneliness. In a world where dating feels like a gamble and vulnerability is dangerous, choosing to be alone may be both liberating and alienating. You want connection, but not at the expense of your peace. You want partnership, but not if it means chasing someone who’s unsure about you.

So yes, the road is long. But being single is not a loss. It's a place where you can reaffirm your values, develop your self-love, and remind yourself that your worth isn't dependent on someone’s half-baked attention. Being single today is not a failure; it is a form of resistance. You’re refusing to compromise yourself for the sake of temporary affection. You are choosing clarity over turmoil. And if the dating pool is crowded with soft boys who don't know how to lead with intention, going solo is not only smart—it's sacrosanct.