第 1 章
Dating: The Labor We Don't Call Work
Imagine walking with someone you're desperately trying to impress - a handsome "Maybe Genius" who can't decide between you and his ex - when suddenly you realize you don't even know what you want from this relationship. This was my midtwenties revelation: dating had trained me to focus entirely on being desirable rather than identifying my own desires. Despite growing up hearing girls could do anything, we remained dispossessed of our own wants, following endless trivial-seeming instructions about how to be loved, which meant how to be worth anything.
Dating isn't just about finding love - it's work. It emerged around 1900 when women left homes to work in cities, mixing freely with men for the first time. It involves physical labor (the grooming, the shopping), emotional performance, and the exhausting effort to make that work seem effortless. Like an unpaid internship, dating offers uncertain returns but the hope of experience. Despite this, there's no better life than laboring at love - bringing something valuable into being because we want it to exist.
第 2 章
The Transactional Nature of Romance
Dating has always occupied ambiguous territory between romance and transaction. Our language reflects this with debates about whether someone "owes" physical intimacy after dinner, and expressions like "damaged goods" and "shopping around" that frame relationships as economic exchanges. Sports metaphors provide another framework - taking shots, striking out, scoring - suggesting dating exists between work and play, though these terms imply dating is work for women and recreation for men.
Digital platforms haven't fundamentally changed dating's nature. Early dance halls were social technologies just as dating apps are today, both bringing strangers together and structuring their interactions. Some platforms like SeekingArrangement explicitly formalize the transaction, connecting "Sugar Babies" with "Sugar Daddies." As one Princeton graduate explains, "People are always getting something out of each other."
The line between sex work and "legitimate" dating has always been blurry. By the 1920s, dating had become accepted by middle classes, but unlike traditional courtship that served the clear purpose of marriage, commercial dating venues profit from volume and repeat business. Dating's move from homes to marketplaces transformed courtship into a business that monetizes basic human needs for sex, attention, and affection.
For the first time, dating made purchasing things necessary to get face time with potential partners. This remains true today - even with "free" dating apps, we pay with the time spent creating profiles and the attention that app owners sell to advertisers. For platforms like OkCupid, getting users into relationships that might remove them from the app is secondary to harnessing desires for profit.
第 3 章
The Currency of Taste in Modern Courtship
"What really matters is what you like, not what you are like," says John Cusack's character in High Fidelity, expressing a sentiment that resonates across dating culture. From indie rom-coms where couples bond over bands to celebrity relationships celebrating each other's "amazing taste," shared preferences have become relationship currency. Even casual daters reject potential partners based on musical taste, as when a woman refuses to give her number to a one-night stand who played Limp Bizkit the morning after.
Online dating has amplified taste's role in courtship. Dating platforms prominently feature users' preferences, and specialized dating services now match people based on shared iTunes libraries, humor preferences, or even Instagram aesthetics.
Taste wasn't always central to courtship. Throughout most of human history, the idea that consumer preferences could predict romantic compatibility would have seemed nonsensical. This changed in the late eighteenth century when revolutionary movements and industrialization created a new middle class that claimed formerly aristocratic cultural capital. As sociologist Pierre Bourdieu observed, "Taste classifies, and it classifies the classifier." In modern dating, taste functions as a class signal - mentioning opera appreciation or correctly pronouncing wine terminology communicates wealth and sophistication.
Early twentieth-century working women pioneered "dating up" through taste manipulation. Department store salesgirls used their public-facing positions to meet wealthy men who might otherwise have been inaccessible. These women became expert readers of class signals, scrutinizing customers' automobiles and accessories for authentic wealth markers while studying wealthy female customers to imitate their appearance.
By the late nineteenth century, America had transformed into a consumer society. In this market that demanded constant new preferences for unnecessary items, the Shopgirl played a dual role - helping others consume while on duty and maintaining her own consumption off-clock.
The Shopgirl's appearance went beyond mere looks - it was about realizing her "personality." Unlike nineteenth-century concepts of "character" revealed through moral actions, personality became the new currency of attraction in the 1920s. Writer Elinor Glyn called this magnetic quality simply "it" - a mysterious charisma that helped women win men.
The skills that helped a Shopgirl in romance served equally well at work. She crafted her personality through careful study and imitation, using charisma to sell both products and herself. The Shopgirl pioneered using sexual desire to sell products unrelated to sex, and as economic activity became eroticized, romantic life required more work. In today's economy where few Americans make physical products, dating trains us for careers and vice versa - we've become a nation of Shopgirls, selling ourselves to sell what we're selling.
第 4 章
Creating Spaces for Connection and Exclusion
Dating venues proliferated as the practice became mainstream, but this also drew lines between who was "in" and who was "out." Going out remains central to dating culture. For immigrants like Samuel Chotzinoff in New York's Lower East Side around 1900, public spaces offered the only available privacy. After Prohibition began in 1921, speakeasies became exciting venues where people from different backgrounds could mingle.
Around 1900, Ralph Werther discovered New York was full of men like him - "adhesive personalities" who were attracted to other men. They gathered in cafeterias and dance halls that transformed at night into meeting places. To stay safe from police raids, these men developed secret signals - white kid gloves, red bow ties, or green accessories that identified them to those "in the know."
During Prohibition, "drag balls" became wildly popular, especially in Harlem. The annual Hamilton Lodge "Masquerade and Civic Ball" drew hundreds of drag queens and thousands of spectators, including elite socialites. These performances offered liberation through anonymity - a man could introduce himself as "Mae West" and return home unrecognized.
By the mid-1920s, many Harlem residents couldn't afford to go out in their own neighborhood. "Rent parties" emerged as an alternative, where residents hosted gatherings with admission fees to help pay rent. These featured good cheap food and drink, and sometimes musicians from expensive clubs playing after hours.
After World War II, gay daters began creating their own spaces in select cities. During the war, many gay and lesbian people had joined the military to escape isolated hometowns. When discharged, many settled in San Francisco, where Pat Bond recalled at least five bars on Broadway where women could flirt without harassment.
Jose Sarria transformed the Black Cat Cafe from a bohemian hangout into a true gay bar in the early 1950s. Starting as a waiter, he became the emcee performing drag shows, wearing an "I'M A BOY" sign to mock laws against "female impersonation with intent to deceive." His genius was addressing the entire audience as if everyone were gay, confronting slumming tourists directly: "Oh you! So you're bisexual, are you? I didn't know I was merely another woman!"
The act of going out became politically powerful for the LGBTQ community. Spontaneous resistance at social venues sparked the gay liberation movement - whether at Stonewall in 1969, Cooper Do-nuts in 1959, or Compton's cafeteria in 1966.
Today's smartphones blur the lines between public and private - we're never fully "out" or "in" when we carry our entire digital social world in our pockets. Going out creates relationships between more than just couples - it's about being among others and is inherently political. When strangers catch each other's eyes, they momentarily become a "we," which is the beginning of every relationship story.
第 5 章
Campus Courtship: The Education of Desire
The success of Grindr in 2009 sparked a race to develop dating apps for straight people, with Tinder launching in 2012. While Grindr recreates speakeasy thrills through geolocation, Tinder feels more like college - facilitating the "hookup culture" that has largely replaced formal dating on campuses.
The term "hookup" gained popularity in the 1990s among white suburban youth, its power lying in its deliberate ambiguity. By 2000, writers like Tom Wolfe were using "hooking up" as a metaphor for an America without rules or commitments. Media sensationalized teen sexuality with reports of "sex bracelets" and "rainbow parties," while college students were bombarded with images of wild spring breaks and "Girls Gone Wild."
By 2010, Americans were marrying later (27 for women, 29 for men) or not at all, creating a 15-year gap between sexual maturity and settling down. This "emerging adulthood" phase expanded with the rise of high school and college education in the early 20th century. The apparent chaos of campus courtship is actually an extension of education, with "going out" becoming central to the college experience.
The media's fixation on millennial hookup culture echoes the 1920s obsession with "petting parties." Between 1900 and 1930, parents in professional classes had fewer children and became the original "helicopter parents," lavishing attention on their offspring. By the 1920s, over three-quarters of American teens attended high school, spending four nights weekly in unsupervised recreation with friends.
Despite parents' and schools' attempts to impose guidelines, young people developed their own codes as peer pressure replaced parental discipline. Judge Benjamin Lindsey reported in 1925 that "of all youth who go to parties, attend dances, and ride together in automobiles, more than 90 percent indulge in hugging and kissing."
The rise of dating coincided with the expansion of college education. Between 1890 and 1920, the number of college students tripled, and by 1927, most colleges had become coed. Higher education had always appealed to Americans' belief in self-improvement, but coeducation added sex appeal.
College campuses developed their own dating vocabulary and rituals. Fraternities became the center of campus dating life, expanding from 505 chapters in 1883 to 3,900 by 1930. While colleges had long disciplined students "in loco parentis," this tradition eroded in the 1960s through court cases defending students' rights. "Parietal rules" governing curfews and dormitory visits disappeared, and coed housing became common.
In the 2000s, sociologists found that modern students were having less vaginal intercourse than previous generations. NYU sociologist Paula England surveyed over 13,000 heterosexual undergraduates, finding that the median number of hookups for graduating seniors was between four and seven, with only 40% involving intercourse. The most significant change wasn't the amount of sex but the "sexual script" - emotional detachment became mandatory, with students putting sexual activity before emotional commitment.
When Depression-era students couldn't afford lavish dating rituals, they competed through the currency of dates themselves. In 1937, scholar Willard Waller formalized this as the "rating and dating complex" theory. The system functioned like a market where one's value depended on fraternity membership, activities, spending money, appearance, and social skills. The fundamental rule was paradoxical: you had to date to be desirable, yet seem scarce to maintain high value.
第 6 章
The Era of Serial Relationships
Around 1940, young people began "going steady" rather than rating and dating multiple partners. Couples paired off exclusively, going to dances, movies and soda fountains together. By the mid-1950s, even middle schoolers participated, with one in ten going steady before turning eleven. Rather than a step toward marriage, going steady became a coming-of-age ritual.
The first adults who noticed teens going steady found the behavior alarming. Nationally syndicated advice columnists like Dorothy Dix warned against the "insane folly of 'keeping company,'" claiming it had "all of the worst features of marriage and none of its advantages." The Catholic Church was particularly concerned, with Chicago's Cardinal Stritch denouncing the practice in 1957 as "dangerous and sinful."
Cardinal Stritch wasn't wrong about the sexual implications. Going steady increased the likelihood of sexual exploration, as teens believed steady relationships made "heavy petting" respectable. Sociologist Ira Reiss termed this new moral code "petting with affection" in 1961. For young women, steady relationships provided reputation protection by limiting partners and discouraging "kissing and telling." The consequences were serious - teen pregnancy rates soared to 97 births per 1,000 girls aged 15-19 in 1957.
Steadies invented the Breakup - that specific kind of heartache that comes from ending an exclusive relationship. A breakup meant more than losing a romantic partner; it meant disruption to one's social life in a culture where coupling was central.
The World War II man shortage initially drove women to lock down partners rather than date around, but going steady didn't end with V-Day - it accelerated among younger teens after the war due to unprecedented economic abundance. By 1956, thirteen million teens had an average weekly income of $10.55 - what would have been a family's entire disposable income fifteen years earlier.
The concept of "dynamic obsolescence" - pioneered by GM's Harley Earl and Alfred Sloan - solved the problem of a saturated car market by introducing yearly model changes. Dating in the Steady Era followed a similar pattern - relationships became investments in someone who would define you temporarily, with the understanding you might eventually trade up.
Today we face different apocalyptic anxieties - climate change and economic inequality rather than nuclear annihilation - yet serial monogamy persists in an increasingly precarious world. The 1950s dream of the nuclear family has collapsed under economic strain, with marriage becoming a middle-class privilege as wages stagnate and job security vanishes. Despite these challenges, having a partner provides temporary security and companionship - "an oasis" amid uncertainty.
第 7 章
The Sexual Revolution and Its Contradictions
Linda LeClair became a national sensation in 1968 when the Barnard sophomore was discovered living with her Columbia boyfriend Peter Behr. The resulting New York Times article - "An Arrangement: Living Together for Convenience, Security, Sex" - triggered a firestorm of controversy. What truly angered critics wasn't premarital sex itself, but that LeClair openly acknowledged her living arrangement without shame.
We now live and date in a world created by the sexual revolution, enjoying freedoms from ostracism, persecution, and unwanted pregnancy that wouldn't exist without it. The term "sexual revolution" actually first described the 1920s Flapper era, coined by James Thurber and E.B. White in 1929. Time magazine announced "The Second Sexual Revolution" in 1964, which shifted focus from equality to freedom - sex became an expression of personal liberty.
Herbert Marcuse, a Jewish Marxist who fled Nazi Germany and taught at Berkeley, became the philosophical father of the New Left. His 1955 book "Eros and Civilization" anticipated the sexual revolution, arguing that technological progress would make sexual repression obsolete. Sexual revolutionaries often echoed the language of free-market advocates. While Marcuse was in Berkeley demanding sexual liberation, economist Milton Friedman was in Chicago arguing for market liberalization. The sexual revolution didn't kill dating - it deregulated it.
Hugh Hefner's Playboy magazine, launched in 1953, embodied laissez-faire love. Beyond nude centerfolds, it showcased "bachelor pads" with barware and stereo equipment, selling a fantasy of pure leisure where sex was just another consumer pleasure. When Helen Gurley Brown took over Cosmopolitan in 1965, she created a female version of Playboy. While Playboy showed women readers could enjoy and dispose of, Cosmo taught women how to make themselves enjoyable and disposable.
Before taking over Cosmopolitan, Helen Gurley Brown wrote "Sex and the Single Girl," which sold two million copies in just three weeks. Brown told women they should feel free to date around and enjoy casual sex while focusing on careers, ignoring pressure to marry. But unlike Hefner's leisure-focused lifestyle, Brown warned her readers: "There is a catch to achieving single bliss. You have to work like a son of a bitch."
While Brown's vision offered an appealing alternative to domestic drudgery, it shared The Feminine Mystique's blind spot: both assumed that allowing women to work would eliminate gender inequality. In reality, the Single Girl wasn't freed from having her worth defined by men - she simply had to both perform like a Playboy while making herself into a Playmate.
Fun Fearless Feminism succeeded because it was market-friendly. Companies could sell women's liberation back to them as products, from Virginia Slims cigarettes ("You've come a long way, baby!") to pens and dildos. While Brown was progressive about sex positivity, she never challenged power structures that enforced sexism.
Jefferson Poland (who sometimes went by Jefferson Fuck or Jefferson Clitlick) co-founded the Sexual Freedom League in New York with gay activist Randy Wicker and poet Tuli Kupferberg. Their philosophy - "no rape, no regulation" - held that consent was the only legitimate restriction on sexual behavior. The group rejected monogamy, gender roles, and embraced bisexuality and group sex.
Photos in Life magazine showing "people wearing big smiles and little else at a love-in" drew countless young people to San Francisco, fleeing conventional futures. In the Haight, couples met and mated without dating formalities, but often fell back into stereotyped gender roles. Many "hippie chicks" endured sexual violence and pressure to have sex to prove they weren't "uptight." The sexual revolution ultimately failed to create true freedom in an unequal society.
第 8 章
Finding Your Niche in the Dating Market
By the 1980s, Berkeley students who once protested for free love now pursued finance careers. The era embraced Ivan Boesky's mantra that "greed is good" - which extended beyond money to "greed for love." Dating transformed into a strategic market requiring self-branding for search algorithms.
Modern dating balances serendipity with market strategy. Online dating services operate on the premise that with enough data, anyone can find their match - but users must first narrow their search terms. Dating profiles reveal a tension between standing out and conforming: too generic won't attract attention, but too specific interests might alienate potential matches.
Though Reagan's conservative revolution promised to reject the counterculture's excesses, it actually spread its core tenets. Economic changes had already undermined the 1950s family model that conservatives idealized. Both hippies and yuppies believed in pursuing personal happiness through consumption - the difference was what they consumed.
Marketing strategy evolved from the "dynamic obsolescence" of the Steady Era to a "divide and conquer" approach in the 1970s. By the 1980s, technological advances made it possible to cater to increasingly specific consumer niches. Dating businesses followed suit, targeting particular demographics - especially those with disposable income.
The term "yuppie" emerged when Chicago Tribune columnist Bob Greene covered Jerry Rubin's Business Networking Salon in 1983. Rubin, once a radical activist, now hosted networking events at Studio 54 where businesspeople paid to exchange cards ranked on "networking value." The yuppie demographic became an obsession for marketers, characterized by specific brand preferences meticulously documented in "The Yuppie Handbook."
The 1980s saw the rise of "assortative mating" - people increasingly partnering with those of similar education and economic status. By 2005, 48% of men with university degrees married women with similar credentials, up from 25% in 1960. This trend reinforced growing economic inequality as dual-professional households became common.
Yuppies cultivated busyness as a status symbol, perhaps the first elite to boast about having no leisure time. The 1980s saw the rise of professional matchmaking services catering to time-starved yuppies. For $500-1,000 annually, video-dating services like Great Expectations would interview clients on camera, file their videos in libraries, and match them using computer databases of preferences.
These analog predecessors to online dating trained singles to distill themselves into marketable packages. Dating service founder Jeff Ullman would tell clients they shouldn't feel ashamed about "advertising" themselves: "You're a product, you're a service... and you're here because you want to mate, date, procreate."
As online dating emerged in the mid-1990s, it promised to rationalize the dating market by clearing inefficiencies. Dating had come full circle - once decried for bringing courtship into the marketplace, it was now celebrated for making romance behave as rationally as markets were supposed to.
第 9 章
New Rules for a Changing World
As the AIDS crisis emerged, it dramatically altered dating practices in the gay community and eventually impacted dating culture more broadly. While the epidemic killed thousands, the Reagan administration remained largely silent, not addressing the public until 1987 when over 20,000 Americans had already died.
In 1983, Michael Callen and Richard Berkowitz collaborated with Joseph Sonnabend to produce a forty-page booklet titled "How to Have Sex in an Epidemic." Rather than preaching abstinence, they provided practical guidance for continuing to enjoy sex while minimizing risks. The booklet broke down gay sex into a detailed menu of safe and unsafe acts with clear instructions, covering everything from "Creative Masturbation" to "Fist Fucking."
The AIDS crisis forced gay men to develop explicit, specific language about sexual behaviors. By the late 1980s, frank discussion about sex became imperative across American society. Even the Reagan administration eventually recognized this necessity when Surgeon General C. Everett Koop issued a public report calling for explicit sex education and condom distribution in schools.
Sex education emerged in American schools during the 1910s when dating was becoming mainstream and young people could no longer rely solely on parents and pastors for guidance. In the 1980s and '90s, sex education became a political battlefield. By 2009, 86 percent of schools mandated that sex ed classes advocate abstinence, supported by nearly $1 billion in federal funding for abstinence-only programs between 1999 and 2009.
The AIDS crisis compelled Americans to create standardized language for discussing sex, which was institutionalized through education programs and democratized by the internet. In this new landscape, dating became about articulating personal boundaries and protocols, with each person responsible for determining their own rules of engagement.
Early internet users accidentally encountered pornography through innocent searches, yet cybersex emerged as "the safest sex around" during the AIDS crisis. Deborah Levine, author of "The Joy of Cybersex," encouraged Columbia University students to explore fantasies online without real-world risks.
Internet adoption exploded from 200,000 American households in 1990 to 5 million by 1993, reaching 85 million by 2013. Early online relationships created both benefits and pitfalls. As psychiatrist Esther Gwinnell observed, cyberlove could make people feel their souls connected first, with users reporting their partners felt "inside them" when away from computers.
The internet's "long tail" economy transformed dating by enabling niche sexual subcultures to flourish. People with specific desires could easily find others with matching interests. Sex educators became influential figures in this landscape - from Betty Dodson promoting female pleasure to Dan Savage creating terminology for previously unnamed acts in his widely syndicated advice column.
Conservative backlash against sexual openness manifested through purity balls, chastity pledges, and father-daughter alternative proms where fathers vowed to defend their daughters' virginity. But these "culture wars" were misnamed - there was no longer a single American culture to defend. The AIDS crisis had permanently changed dating culture, leaving behind a legacy of sexual explicitness and infinite possibility.
第 10 章
The Tyranny of Time in Modern Romance
The chapter opens with the origin of "time is money," first attributed not to Benjamin Franklin but to a forgotten 18th-century housewife admonishing her shoemaker husband. This dynamic - practical women managing time while charming but indecisive men waste it - persists in modern romance, where being "overscheduled" has replaced being "star-crossed" as lovers' primary obstacle.
Modern dating faces a time-scarcity crisis, with people claiming they're "too busy" for relationships or need "time to think." Solutions range from efficiency-focused approaches like speed dating to outsourcing services like Virtual Dating Assistants, which for $147 per date or $1,200 monthly will manage clients' dating profiles and plan their encounters.
Women particularly face the pressure of dating on a deadline, constantly warned about "wasting years" with partners who won't commit to marriage and children. This anxiety stems from the concept of the "biological clock," which emerged in media during the late 1970s. Despite popular belief, male fertility also declines significantly with age. Research shows that among infertility cases, about 40 percent are caused by male factors, 40 percent by female factors, and 20 percent remain unexplained.
Female bodies follow monthly rhythms rather than precise second-hand movements, yet the clock metaphor captured a real economic clash occurring in America. As middle-class women entered the workforce, they faced the collision of two time systems: the structured nine-to-five workday versus the unpredictable rhythms of caregiving.
The reproductive technology industry began with sperm banks in the 1970s, when liquid nitrogen advances made storing genetic material possible. These businesses maintained detailed databases of donor traits beyond what one might learn through dating - from physical characteristics to SAT scores and ethnic backgrounds.
Fertility anxiety has been striking women at increasingly younger ages since 2000. Women who freeze their eggs report feeling "empowered," though many are motivated more by finding love than advancing careers. Companies like Google offering egg freezing benefits suggests freezing time is somehow more realistic than policy changes like improved maternity leave.
As career women worried about their biological clocks in the 1980s, an alleged "epidemic" of teen pregnancies captured media attention. However, teen birth rates were actually falling, from 10% in the 1950s to closer to 5% in the 1980s. What had changed was the rate of teen marriage - by 2000, 79% of teen births were nonmarital compared to just 13% in 1950.
Our culture delivers contradictory messages about motherhood based on class: middle and upper-class women hear that children bring incomparable joy, while poor women, particularly women of color, are warned that babies will trap them in poverty. Both messages may contain truth depending on economic circumstances, but framing reproduction as merely a "lifestyle choice" places tremendous responsibility on women while straining romantic relationships.
第 11 章
The Impossible Standards of Modern Love
While historically "settling" had positive connotations suggesting advantageous marriage arrangements, modern usage carries negative implications. Lori Gottlieb's controversial 2008 Atlantic article "Marry Him! The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough" argued that women approaching their thirties should reconsider their standards, describing marriage as "more like a partnership formed to run a very small, mundane, and often boring nonprofit business."
While self-help literature has a long American tradition with male authors encouraging readers to trust their instincts, romantic self-help offers contrary advice. Dating guides warn women to question every instinct, read between lines, and plot their actions strategically.
During the Calling Era, etiquette columnists provided clear instructions on courtship protocols. As women entered public workplaces, traditional courtship barriers dissolved. Frances Donovan noted in 1919 that "the man is the one pursued, the woman the pursuer." Yet as middle-class women began dating, the norm that men paid remained, requiring women to woo men while maintaining the illusion of passivity.
Early dating manuals emphasized what women must not do to maintain the fiction of male control. Modern romantic self-help continues this tradition, addressing women in scolding tones unlike the affirmative language of career advice books. The 1995 bestseller "The Rules" elevated prohibitions into a philosophy, instructing women to become "Rules Girls" through extensive self-restraint.
Dating advice dangles partnership as the prize for a lifetime of self-denial, using the threat of loneliness to keep women in line. The danger goes unmentioned that a Rules Girl might become so expert at ignoring her feelings that she forgets what she wanted from dating originally.
Pickup Artists (PUAs) manipulate women by stealing from the Rules playbook. Neil Strauss documented this subculture in "The Game," offering a seduction guide for "average frustrated chumps." The central principle: to attract beautiful women, men must first destroy their self-esteem by feigning indifference.
This mutual mystification benefits only the multibillion-dollar self-help industry profiting from loneliness and uncertainty. Bestsellers like "Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus" insist men and women have radically different approaches to romance. This formula sells books by suggesting dating has a secret code, with authors positioning themselves as authorities simply by virtue of their gender.
第 12 章
Reclaiming the Labor of Love
The romantic self-help industry frames dating problems as individual when history reveals they're social. We inherit dating roles from those before us and take cues from those around us. Our intimate feelings reflect broader social forces, not just personal failings.
American culture treats dating as simultaneously crucial and frivolous. Archaeological evidence would suggest dating's central importance to our civilization, yet we confine serious discussion of it to venues marked as trivial like women's magazines. We treat dating as recreation rather than collective concern, creating enormous pressure to date while providing minimal support.
Our culture focuses narrowly on "LoveTM" - romantic, monogamous, heterosexual love leading to marriage and reproduction. Singles view this as an escape route from dating's trials, while married people forget dating altogether, like "posttraumatic shock." Women particularly face coercion toward LoveTM through economic disadvantages and social stigma - single women earn less than male counterparts and face spinster stereotypes, while bachelors retain glamour.
Rather than directing critical energy inward through self-help, we should direct it outward through collective action. Political changes like better healthcare, childcare, and maternity leave could make dating less anxiety-inducing. Less grueling work demands might reduce pressure on young people's relationships. We need a "third sexual revolution" that doesn't corral sex back into marriage or simply encourage "settling down," but celebrates diverse forms of love.
Love consists of acts of care we can extend to whomever we choose, for however long a relationship lasts. Recognizing love as labor allows us to evaluate its worth and distribution. There's a crucial difference between postponing difficult conversations and burying issues out of fear of seeming undesirable - the difference is exploitation. When freely directed, labor isn't a liability but strength. Love requires vulnerability and acknowledging our needs, the fearful process through which we grow.
Honoring love might change everything people hate about dating by treating reproductive work with deserved seriousness, revealing its creative potential - but this cannot be done alone.
