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 longer much effort involved in pursuing someone 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. I’ve participated in hookup culture, too. There were times when I convinced myself that physical intimacy was enough, even when what I really wanted was something deeper. I mistook attention for connection and temporary intimacy for something that resembled love.

Eventually, sex became a mere excuse for intimacy. Dozens of dates were 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 “hookup” can mean different things to different people and comes with its own set of rules depending on who is involved. These encounters are usually brief, physical, and detached from emotional attachment. They’re marketed as a convenient form of sexual liberation, but I would argue they can have the opposite effect. By participating in hookup culture, we risk diminishing the intimacy of sex and trapping ourselves in a cycle of casual encounters.

To understand hookup culture, we have to look at how it functions. How do people meet for these hookups? The answer, increasingly, 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 a coffee shop. One swipe, one click, one touch, and you’ve met your match. There’s very little effort involved.

“It’s kind of like fast-tracking,” says Tina, 23.

The process is shallow by design: judge a handful of photographs and decide whether someone is worth meeting, kissing, or sleeping with. That’s hardly the sexual liberation we were promised. What I’ve found is that with hookups comes a loss of intimacy, a decline in traditional 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 problem with the loss of intimacy is that we no longer seem to treat 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 are also forms 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, who had recently gotten out of a long-term relationship.

Sex is a meaningful act that we often take for granted simply because we can have it. The idea that sex isn’t intimate may seem harmless, but it can bleed into other parts of romantic life, especially dating. If we don’t value one of our most vulnerable experiences, why should we value everything that comes before 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 much of anything.

Emotional connection and vulnerability can feel almost worthless 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 something that resembles happiness for a few hours.

For me, it was a crutch. It was a distraction from my own emotional turmoil. I convinced myself I was happy, but in reality, I was just numb.

Then there’s the financial side of dating. 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 that financial barrier, dates are slowly becoming a thing of the past. Dinner and a movie? You’re looking at more than a hundred dollars. For some people, that’s simply too much.

Sometimes, it costs too much to love.

Then there’s the issue of commitment. We’re afraid to pick 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 single people, but because we’re increasingly hesitant 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. In fact, there’s barely any pressure at all. The entire system is built around the understanding that neither person is necessarily looking for something lasting. The closest thing we have to commitment is often “friends with benefits,” a relationship in which two 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, filled with high highs and low lows.

By the time I met them, they were officially just friends with benefits. But it was clear Trevor wanted more.

I watched as he stared at her, his gaze lingering on her lips before returning 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 whether 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 moments like these that the truth about friends with benefits begins to emerge: someone usually cares more.

“It gets messy quickly,” says Jeremy, 23.

One minute, you’re friends. Then you’re lovers. Then you’re enemies.

I asked Jeremiah how someone could navigate that kind of relationship without developing romantic feelings. His response was simple.

“I just don’t [form emotions], I build a shell.”

But we’re 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, not something we have to emotionally detach ourselves from before it even begins. We’re depriving ourselves of something incredible when we convince ourselves that intimacy is something to avoid.

Perhaps I’m overthinking it. After all, “part of sex is purely biological drive,” says Dr. David Wyner. Sexual desire is natural, and acting on it isn’t inherently wrong. In that sense, hookup culture does allow people to express their sexuality freely.

But even with that freedom, something can still be lost.

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. No anticipation. Just straight to the point.

Where’s the fun in that?

But not all hope is lost. I’ve noticed another phenomenon emerging: the rejection of hookup culture.

When I asked 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. What might begin as a fun distraction can eventually leave you craving something more substantial: 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 want the simple things: a family, a picket fence, a dog.

“I still want that,” Britney, 27, admits.

Mia, 18, agrees: “I’d rather be with someone who’s in it for the long run.”

We know we’re more than our bodies. We know we deserve more than to be treated as disposable.

The problem with hookups is that there’s no honeymoon stage. It’s over almost as quickly as it begins, and somehow, it still hurts. The next day, you know they probably won’t text, and neither will you.

But we do it anyway.

We keep searching for fulfillment in places that leave us feeling empty. It’s exhausting. And frankly, it’s a waste of time.

So here’s my proposal: let’s stop looking for love in the wrong places.

Dating apps aren’t necessarily the answer. Neither is hookup culture. If what you want is a real connection, you have to be willing to look beyond the convenience of a swipe and risk something a little more vulnerable.

You have to let someone take you on the date.

And, perhaps most frighteningly, you have to let yourself feel.