by Naomi Foster

I’m beginning to think I’m never going to experience romance, at least not in this society. My peers seem to find more enjoyment in making out in the backseat of a used Nissan Altima than in handwritten love letters. There’s no more effort in pursuing a partner for romantic reasons—it’s strictly physical, and honestly, it’s a little pathetic. But before I cast judgment, I have to admit that I’m no better than them. For me, sex has often seemed more like a sport than intimacy. It wasn’t about personal connections or emotions—it was a game. I tallied my partners like a to-do list. I counted down the days until I lost all emotional connection, yet somehow, I convinced myself that what I was experiencing was love.

I reached a point where sex became a mere excuse for intimacy—dozens of dates doomed from the start because the only goal was physical pleasure. This was hookup culture at its finest.

Hookup culture is a lifestyle of premarital, casual sex among consenting adults, particularly college students. A “hook-up” can be defined in multiple ways and has its own set of rules depending on the people involved. These casual encounters are usually brief, purely physical, and void of emotional attachment. It’s marketed as this ultra-convenient form of sexual liberation, but I would argue it’s the opposite. By participating in hookup culture, we are diminishing the sanctity of sex and trapping ourselves in a cycle of anonymous encounters.

To truly understand hookup culture, we have to look at how it functions. How do people meet for these hookups? The answer is dating apps. Apps like Tinder, Hinge, and Bumble have Generation Z in a chokehold. It’s no longer necessary to make googly eyes across a room at a handsome stranger or muster up the courage to talk to the girl in math. One swipe, one click, one touch, and you’ve met your match. There’s no effort involved. “It’s kind of like fast-tracking,” says Tina, 23. It’s a shallow process of judging photographs to determine if the person is fit to be intimate with. That’s hardly sexual liberation. What I’ve found is that with hookups comes a loss of intimacy, lack of real dates, and a pervasive fear of commitment.

“If you think hookups are going to bring you happiness, they won’t. It doesn’t work.”
—Dr. Fitzgerald

The issue with the loss of intimacy is that we no longer see sex as intimate. It’s just something to do. Julie, a young woman, argues that “sex doesn’t always have to be associated with intimacy,” but what could be more intimate than sex? Friendships and emotional connections remain part of intimacy, but they too are altered by the prevalence of hookup culture.

“When you’re having sex, you’re the most vulnerable you can ever be. You can’t help but feel like they know a part of you,” says Aaron, 19, recently out of a long-term relationship. It’s a meaningful act that we often take for granted simply because we can. This notion that sex isn’t intimate is more harmful than most realize because it bleeds into other aspects of romantic life, especially dating. If we don’t care about the most vulnerable part of us—sex—then why should we care about the steps leading up to it?

“I don’t do dates. I’ll, like, spend time with you if you’re cool but I’m not actually going on, like, a formal date,” says Jeremiah, 18.

That’s the problem. We don’t do dates anymore. We don’t do anything. Emotional connection and vulnerability have no value in the eyes of many single college students. There’s no wooing involved in hookup culture. We simply jump into bed with whoever catches our eye, hoping for temporary bliss. We use hookups as currency, trading our bodies for pseudo-happiness. For me, it was a crutch, a distraction from my emotional turmoil. I convinced myself I was happy, but in reality, I was just numb.

Another part of the problem is financial. Studies show that “30% of millennials and Gen Z say their financial situation is holding them back from dating” (Macwilliam, Attachment in Adult Relationships). With this financial barrier, dates are slowly becoming a thing of the past. A dinner and a movie? You’re looking at over a hundred dollars. For some, that’s simply too much. Sometimes, it costs too much to love.

Then, there’s the issue of commitment. We’re afraid to pick just one person because we’re terrified they might not be “the one.” “Finding a partner [in today’s society] is like finding a unicorn,” says Camille, 31. Not because there’s a shortage of singles, but because we’re unwilling to commit. “We don’t do relationships because we don’t want to feel trapped,” Jeremiah, 18, explains.

With hookup culture, there’s no pressure to commit—there’s no pressure at all. The entire system is based on the idea that neither party is willing to commit. The closest thing we have to “commitment” is “friends with benefits,” a relationship where people engage in sex without dating. But does it really work?

Sitting in Washington Square Park, I witnessed a so-called “friends with benefits” relationship. Alice, a raven-haired girl in a leather jacket, nuzzled next to Trevor, a freckled blonde with a mischievous grin. They met on Hinge, and what began as a hookup soon turned into something messier, with high highs and low lows. By the time I met them, they were just friends with benefits. But it was clear Trevor wanted more. I watched as he stared at her, his gaze lingering on her lips, then back up to her eyes. Alice played into his fantasy, lightly tapping him with a rose. Her body language said one thing, but her words said another. When I asked if she wanted a relationship, she shrugged and said she “had too much shit going on.” Trevor deflected with a quiet laugh: “Yeah, she has school and stuff.”

It’s in these moments that the truth about friends with benefits emerges: Someone always cares more. “It gets messy quickly,” says Jeremy, 23. One minute, you’re friends, then lovers, then enemies. I asked Jeremiah how one could navigate such a relationship without forming a romantic attachment, to which he responded, “I just don’t [form emotions], I build a shell.” We are not turtles. We’re human beings, and we shouldn’t have to “build a shell” just to protect ourselves from feeling something real. When we have sex, it should be an act of vulnerability—free from the pressure of avoiding emotions. We’re robbing ourselves of something incredible when we deprive ourselves of that.

Perhaps I’m overthinking it. After all, “part of sex is purely biological drive,” says Dr. David Wyner. It’s natural to have sexual urges, and acting on them isn’t wrong. Hookup culture, in a sense, allows us to freely express our sexuality. But even with this freedom, the damage is clear. According to Dr. Wyner, “Part of what’s lost because of hookup culture is that idea of a relationship before the physical.” There’s no buildup, no mystery—just straight to the point. Where’s the fun in that?

But not all hope is lost. I’ve observed a new phenomenon—the rejection of hookup culture. When asking my peers about dating apps, I was met with scrunched noses and disgusted mutterings. “Tinder has been the fucking worst,” one woman said, shaking her head. Alice, 18, echoed that sentiment: “With dating apps, it’s really artificial.” There’s no mystery, no buildup, no tension—it’s cold and curt. While it might seem like a fun distraction, eventually, you start to crave something real: love, intimacy, connection. As Julie, 18, put it, “You start to view someone as a piece of meat instead of a person.”

It sounds cheesy, but some of us still long for the simple things—a family, a picket fence, a dog. Britney, 27, admits, “I still want that.” Mia, 18, agrees: “I’d rather be with someone who’s in it for the long run.” We know that we’re more than our bodies, that we deserve more than to be seen as disposable.

The thing with hookups is that there’s no honeymoon stage. It’s over, just like that, and it hurts. The next day, you know they won’t text, and neither will you. But we do it anyway, searching for fulfillment in the wrong places. That’s exhausting and, frankly, a waste of time. So here’s my proposal: Let’s stop looking for love in the wrong places. Dating apps aren’t the answer. They never have been. Hookup culture is draining. If you want a real connection, you have to go out there and find it. Trust me—there’s someone out there who wants the same thing. You just have to go for it.

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