Let me set the scene, one that is probably very familiar to everyone reading: You meet a cute boy. Maybe you meet him in PO191, through mutual friends, at a sweaty frat party in Allston, or on Tinder. Your heart flutters when you think about him, you get excited when he texts you first, you dress up a little bit when you know you’re passing his dorm just in case he’s outside. And then finally, after a couple of days or weeks of talking, the timing works out and he invites you over.
You try to talk yourself down from the giddiness that you feel, try to stop the sparks in your stomach from alighting with happy nervousness, all the while thinking this doesn’t mean anything … unless it does. You brush these thoughts away — this isn’t a Hallmark movie, you barely know him, you’re way too busy for a boy right now — but you can’t completely put out the small glowing orb of hope and excitement in your stomach. And then the moment comes.
Small talk, watching a movie, the inevitable cuddling, eye contact, a kiss (a magical, slow-burn kiss), then more, then more, then more.
The next morning you wake up with a small smile on your face as he kisses you goodbye, nice and soft. You walk home with the high of last night still coursing through your veins. It’s crazy, I know, you think. But what if this is it? What if he really is the one for me?
You hook up with the boy a couple more times, each one is a little more intimate than before. You order takeout, you sleep in his arms, he kisses your forehead, you show each other your favorite songs. It’s so fun. It feels so right. You tell all your friends about him, about the nights spent with him in a purple-hued room, about the cute selfies you two took, and the way he makes you laugh.
Suddenly, it all comes crashing down, as abruptly and fast as this paragraph transition. Your friend hears his name on another girl’s lips. She’s talking about their romantic night together. Your other friend tells you later that day about the gym-mirror selfies her acquaintance has been posting with this boy, on all the mornings after you spent the night with him. He has his hand on her waist in the pictures. He’s still wearing your hair tie on his wrist.
This story is an amalgam of a thousand stories that I’ve personally experienced, that my friends have gone through, that we’ve pieced together from gossip and social media. This story is insanely common in college, but it’s not the only one. In other versions of this tale, maybe the girl didn’t care either and also had side-pieces. Maybe one of the people in the situationship had a partner they were cheating on, or were genuinely looking to make a relationship out of the casual hookup, or were lonely, trying to fill a void, and went too far.
All of these stories are happening every single day in college, and as such, it can be so easy to become overwhelmed with either the horror stories of hookup culture or the idea that everyone you know is hooking up with ten people concurrently and having a blast. Now this idea has been debunked, as the number of college students engaging in hookup culture really isn’t all that high, but for me personally, hookup culture has been a presence on campus that feels incredibly pervasive. If you, like me, are someone who has had not-so-great experiences with casual intimacy or flings, it can feel almost depressing to constantly be surrounded by boys (and girls) who only want to hookup, aren’t looking for anything serious, and honestly have no problem leading you on or not setting clear boundaries.
Over the past couple of years, I’ve made the choice to abstain from engaging in hookup culture for my own mental health, and it’s been incredibly liberating — but it’s not without its struggles. For anyone else who is looking to consciously remove themselves from the hookup scene, I have found that one of the best ways to do so is to remind yourself why you are here: to get an exemplary education, to grow as a person, to become involved with groups and organizations that fill you with passion and purpose. I also sometimes like to look at photos of myself as a young girl, all bright eyes and messy hair with a big, gap-toothed grin, and think of how I would want her to feel. I would want her to be determined and ambitious, unwilling to let any boy or romantic tryst interfere with her dreams. I would want her to be confident, to trust herself and her intuition, to know what she deserves, and to stick to her guns. For all readers who are also debating whether or not they should engage in hookup culture, I think these are strong and important methods to also discern if it is the right environment for you.
It is also important to note that there is no shame in hookup culture at all! The college dating scene can be a wonderful place to learn more about your own interests and desires, to meet new people, and to enjoy all the recklessness and joy that college flings can entail. But for me personally, and for many other women that I know and love, the insecurity, dissatisfaction, and betrayal that can come with hooking up is not something that adds value or happiness to our lives.
As women, we are often called clingy, desperate, or too emotional. Oftentimes men don’t believe that women can date casually or not develop feelings for their sexual partners. This is fallacious, of course, but it also doesn’t make you a bad feminist or a stereotype if you do want something more serious. Women are human, with all the emotional and physical complexity that that entails, and are thus completely valid for having their own personal desires for relationships, whether serious or casual.
For all collegiate women who are not enthusiastic participants in hookup culture, like my friends and me, it’s okay to resist the pressure of the college dating scene, focus on yourself and your dreams, and be confident in the knowledge that you’re not settling for anything less than what you want and deserve.
What is meant for you will not pass you by. Promise!
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