Frontal lobe development, premarital sex, and the nonchalance epidemic

One of my amazing and very talented close friends recently wrote a substack column essentially dissecting the Schrödinger Paradox of romance: you’ll find love where you least expect it; but if you aren’t looking for love, you won’t know how to find it at all. This got my gears turning; because like every single twenty-something in the world, love is one of those elusive achievements we hope to one day unlock. And no matter how many or how few romantic experiences one has had, we all know one thing is certain: when we do finally find true love, it will be uncontested, undoubted, and absolute. 

And then we snap right back into reality. When God invented oxytocin, dopamine, estrogen and testosterone, he wasn’t thinking about the modern 2026 world where every step, breath, or bite you take is digitized. Love just simply wasn’t created with the modern world in mind. 

Before I attempt to dissect romance, love, maybe the universe and everything else in between, I need to make a disclaimer. I opted to write this blogpost one 4Loko deep for added dramatic effect. So with every negatively connotated example of the failures of modern day romance, take this from the perspective of a boots-on-the-ground reporter. I’m in the field, a broadcast journalist in the center of the hurricane discussing its drastic effects. I’m not above or better than any of the subsequent examples I make. In fact, I’m patient zero. 

In my opinion, dating apps are one of the worst creations in human history. With the uptick of social media came the downfall of the third place. Nobody goes to libraries, cafes, parks or diners to mingle, make new friends, and hang out for hours. It’s heavily frowned upon to hang out in a restaurant booth for hours without intention to leave a hefty tip for the server of your section. ‘No loitering’, ‘no skating’, ‘no biking’, ‘no rollerblading’ signs anywhere that could be a potential social hub. So if you’re going to find your forever friends on Snapchat and Instagram, it makes perfect sense Hinge or Tinder will be where you find your one true love. Wrong. As a girl, the validation of opening a dating app to hundreds of likes can be thrilling. The joys of swiping right on hot guys, receiving roses, and cheesy pickup lines. But it’s just all junk. The depth of my personality can’t be understood from two sentences and a good first photo on a dating app. So the result is exactly what you’d expect: swiping and being swiped based solely off your looks. Guys calling you love, beautiful, babe only as an entrance ticket much less a term of endearment. It’s not romance, it’s a cheap digital lust. So all of these precious, sacred expressions of love are used for sex, for lust, for fun. If it’s so easy for just anyone to say you love me, when you truly do love me, how can I know you mean it for sure?

 It becomes a game –– quick dopamine rush of “You got a match!”, risque texts, the whole nine yards. And it’s exactly that. It is exciting, rewarding, and fun.

 Maybe that’s really all it’s supposed to be.

I’ve always held the same positioning on love and romance through high school and most of college. For some people, somehow online dating works; my cousin met her now husband on her very first Bumble (i think) date, they got married last year, and now are expecting. I’m not delusional enough to know I’m not meeting my husband on Bumble, and definitely not at San Diego State, and for the most part I don’t want to. For most of my upbringing, I was raised by my rockstar of a mom. My dad was part of the equation, sorta, always in vicinity but never present. When my parents got divorced in 2017, I opted to live with my mom full time and stuck to it. Romance was never one of those things I was pressured or encouraged or brainwashed into prioritizing growing up. I never really fit in with my friends in elementary school because I didn’t listen to One Direction, Justin Bieber, and didn’t care to watch Victorious. At my house, we listened to The Beatles and watched the Discovery channel. I’ve always known I want to be an independent entrepreneur, and the last thing I need is a bum leeching. My first real long-term boyfriend was a brain-dead weed addict three years older than me. We met because he hit me in the head with a binder walking down the hallway. Obviously he graduated years before me, and had zero desire to go to college. He just wanted to smoke weed, live with his parents probably forever, and cheat on me for as long as he could get away with (which was a long time.) I had to help him register for community college because the ‘application’ (writing down personal info and uploading a transcript) was too frustrating and difficult for him. Yeah, I dated a fucking bum (FOR YEARS!!). 

As much of a waste of time it was, that taught me a very, very, VERY important lesson. I always knew I was put on this planet to accomplish something big. I don’t know what it is exactly yet, but no matter how many times people have attempted to extinguish my passion, I’m still fired up. Moral of the story, nobody can share their future aspirations with absolute certainty. You can say you want to be a millionaire, retire early, have a big house, a beautiful family and a happy healthy marriage, but it really means jack shit until you can execute. Nothing is guaranteed to us in life except death. As I get older, my perspective both shifts and doubles down. 

We’re left conflicted: do we prioritize our futures and success with no ifs ands or butts, or if we find love, do we try and give it a chance? 

I’ve seen so many interviews of elderly people talking about their first loves, or their true loves. For the most part, the elderly women reminisce about their deep rooted romances with their husbands fighting wars overseas, handwritten letters and a deep, thoughtful passion. The elderly men; however, most often discuss their love lost; they were just too young, weren’t ready for a relationship, blamed immaturity and stupidity, and so on. I read so much about the different ways men and women choose their life partners; women choose who they love the most, and men choose the woman they’re with at the time they realize they’re ready. So us lover girls really get the short end of the stick.

So how the fuck are we supposed to decide when and who is right? One of my great faults is when I do feel love, I tend to overexpress it. Regardless of how far into a relationship, I love doing things for the people I love. I love giving gifts, cooking, and other acts and shows of service and appreciation when I can. Which is a good and bad thing. We all know that you shouldn’t act like a girlfriend when you don’t have the title. I just can’t help it. I know these displays of affection bring me joy to give, even if the recipient isn’t so present to appreciate it. Back to Schrödinger’s bitchass. If it brings me joy to express love, then doesn’t keeping it hidden to protect myself ensure they will never know it exists?

Having discretion to be able to decide between what you want and what you need, in all aspects of life, is such a fine line. We all know people who settle for convenience, settle in their careers, settle in relationships and marriages, settle in life. I don’t want to settle. I don’t want to marry someone who settles. At my age, being around people who understand this is such a bittersweet thing. When talking about the fate of our relationship, a love interest once upon a time told me that he doesn’t want to let a relationship hold him back from creating the business and future of his dreams. Whilst this isn’t exactly something you want to hear from someone you love, wouldn’t it just be immature to not accept? It’s a perfectly valid take, regardless of how deep the love goes. Some people truly have the strength to make those choices when they need to. Others, like me, tend to start backtracking our standards to make love work. But having this mentality and being someone who doesn’t want to settle just doesn’t work together. Those opinions clash, whether you want them to or not. 

What is love worth if you’re just not ready? It’s hard to decide if experiencing wrongly timed love is worth the inevitable heartbreak. 

In my world, I live by this quote: “The one who loves always wins.”

I’ve never been able to be the person that can hide my emotions towards someone, I’m a horrible liar, and I really don’t like to play catch and mouse for love and approval. I need to know in plain english that you either like me or you do not. Playing games crashes my system and I need to reboot. And the worst part is, nobody wins because i’m just fucking confused as shit. I’ve never been a good flirt, I see the world too black and white and the damn noise in my brain is much too loud to figure out ways to cryptically express subtle interest. This is why I can’t stand this goddamn beat around the bush nonchalant culture. And this might be a hot take and I fully accept it. I’m just not great at reading social romantic sexual cues therefore it’s not for me. But with the combination of all of these sub-romantic factors, it makes perfect sense why cheating culture and nonchalance is more common that genuine connection. Romance has become less of an achievement and more of a score.

Resolution? I don’t know that there is one. I’m hoping soon we have a massive wave of technology fatigue, and like radical movements before, my generation creates monumental change to prevent this overly-technical world becoming the only social interaction we have. I remember hearing about how divorce rates were getting higher and higher, and I can’t imagine that relationships with an explicit basis of digital tension would hold up very well in the real world. I think our only choice is to become buddhist monks, take a vow of silence and abstinence and just hope we reach nirvana that way.