‘I’m too busy to date’ is an almost perfect response to questions about your love life. To your family, it suggests a girl-boss attitude to university studies, a dedication that means your single-hood isn’t a fault – oh, no! – it’s a virtue which only indicates your career prospects after graduating. To friends, it’s an easy one to throw into any conversations at wine nights or during dissertation chats: they’re at uni too, they get it, life is hectic right now and so, not dating might just about make sense for where you’re at.
The endless cycle of justifying chosen, or imposed, single-hood is one that has been debated over and over again, but university is home to some particular stereotypes that make it even harder to escape the expectations forced on your love life. Whether you arrived at uni hoping to find your soulmate (I’m so sorry) or didn’t feel bothered until your friends started disappearing off to dinner dates, your twenties are the start, especially in higher education, of some high-pressure comparisons to those around you.
Whatever dating experience you may or may not have had, it suddenly seems as if things have gotten serious. When first years are already planning on moving in together – I’d say it’s a horrible idea, but practically a canon event – and third years are heading to London for matching grad jobs, it can feel as if you’re not doing enough to make time to date and concentrate on filling this supposed ‘gap’ in your life.
Despite the huge cultural shift our attitude to dating has experienced, especially over the past decade or so, there’s still a pressure to find the one, tie the knot and start a family, etc. And the statistics on how many people find their soulmate at university are doing nothing to stop the search for love from ranking high up on the list of accomplishments students hope to come away with. When you reach the end of a tumultuous three years without the perfect partner on your arm, it can feel a bit of a disappointment.
But when we say, and really mean, we’re ‘too busy to date’ – what does this actually mean? If we go through three years of being ‘too busy’ for small talk and awkward coffee dates that might just find their way into the best man’s speech, what kind of experience will we look back on?
I’d argue a pretty good one. As someone who will definitely be pulling out the ‘too busy’ card at the next family BBQ, I find it hard to regret any of the choices I’ve made over my time at university. Academics have always been the priority, and with third year, an internship and society positions, as well as the occasional pub quiz, to fit in, it’s hard to feel unfulfilled. Sure, there’s the chance that a business student with a classic mullet might have added a bit of fun to my uni life at least. But as a romantic at heart, I can safely say it’s unlikely.
The relationships I’ve witnessed have been stretched across a spectrum from sickeningly heart-warming to downright destructive and who can be doing with that when there’s an essay due on Monday? Instead of arguments, I’ve had crochet evenings and fantasy film nights. Instead of roses on the doorstep, I’ve had friendships fall apart. There’s so much heartbreak and joy to be found in the friendships made across your time at university, so many people to meet and make plans with that it would be hard to contain it all into the ideal of one person on whom you pin so much expectation.
While I heavily subscribe to the Austen dream of the ideal man, I wouldn’t sacrifice the experiences I’ve had. Your twenties are surely made to experience what it means to be young, to resist settling in every sense of the word. And sure, there’s plenty of relationships that last beyond the degree and end up happily ever after… but I can’t see Lizzie Bennet substituting her plans for a stereotypical uni-man in a quarter zip.