lovers, get weirder

OH TO SKIP THE TALKING STAGE

We need somebody to get weird with. Thank you to Hinge for sponsoring this newsletter. #hingepartner

Once in a golden moon or a sweet century, not predicted by a fortune cookie or a lucky number sequence, you will cross paths with somebody willing to see through your defenses. With their laser-sharp eye and attuned intuition, they’ll get to know the quirks, the off-key shower singing, the shortcomings of your own ambition, the different shades of angry you get depending on the day and instigator, and how to deescalate your bad day. They’ll want it all. You will blossom into who you’ve always longed to be. Am I overpromising here? Not quite, but read the fine print: this connection can only bind to your essence, not the image you’d spent years building around yourself.

As a retired Olympic champion of mind gymnastics, I used to trick myself and others with a polished, hollow shadow that would put on the Valerie suit and go out on dates. The resemblance was uncanny: same voice and mannerisms, just way more nonchalance and less intensity. No one disputes the human tactic of presenting as your best version. The trouble lies in our definition of best: mine equaled a woman that has few requests beyond the socially approved minimum. Needs? Forget about it! The deep obsession with presenting as what I’d labeled ‘normal’ would justify the lengths I’d go to mold myself into something that was not only a fabricated story, but a curation that failed to sustain itself. When ‘Sure, I’m open to just seeing where things go’ is code for PLEASE PLEASE COMMIT TO ME I’M NEEDY AND LOUD AND HAVE SO MUCH LOVE TO GIVE, pretense reigns and potential goes out the window. The reward? Lukewarm, fleeting dating I deemed defective by pattern or accident, not understanding that my approach was the very thing rendering connection impossible. Denial loves company, and this extinction of my truth naturally attracted people equally as disconnected from themselves. I wasn’t bad at keeping people around. I was just bad at honesty.

This isn’t individual failing. We’ve worked ourselves into chronic disinterest, even when said disinterest is an array of a thousand unmet needs in a coat. In the ironic detachment trenches, being earnest is hard. That requires stepping out of yourself and taking off your performance review glasses, and that’s already too big of an ask. I’d argue that this milieu is generational, not gendered, which is why it appears across genders and sexualities. And research proves this: according to Hinge’s 2025 Gen Z D.A.T.E Report, 48% of Gen Z men hold back from emotional intimacy because they don’t want to seem ‘too much.’ 43% of Gen Z women wait for the other person to initiate deep conversations. Even the seemingly harmless discourse around dating, like whether having a partner is embarrassing, is a small but telling symptom of the pathology. Are we just doomed to be cool and lonely?

Collective change starts from the individual within. Boring, I know. Stepping into my truth wasn’t a beautiful metamorphosis, but a shift more yawn-inducing than that: I got exhausted. There’s only so much inauthentic disappointment and I-don’t-think-this-is-going-to-work’s a girl can take. It was around date number #24473 that the scale tipped and my fear of both rejection and misunderstanding was no longer outweighing the pain of self-erosion and pretense. If I hate it here anyway, I might as well be radically myself, steady in my solitude. Show up or go home. I decided that my unfiltered essence would no longer pose a threat to connection, but instead serve as the very filter for the kind of person I wanted by my side. What must be cultivated? Honesty. Weirdness. Exposure. And must be surrendered? Weaknesses. Assumptions. The terror of rejection. Absolved of a consolation prize, I no longer was interested in competing with anyone to be the most detached and unaffected in a relationship.

Something else emerged on the other side and took me by surprise. The most delicious breath of freedom I’d felt in a long time, upon permission to no longer let other people sway my authenticity, brought this newfound lightness and self-trust. With my brain freshly rewired and ready to be seen, I went on an unassuming date. All you need to know is my defenses were down, my humor unfiltered, expectations zero. Not at the hands of dread, but out of safety within myself. I wanted to let myself be weird, which ultimately meant I wouldn’t be calibrating for ‘normalcy’ and scanning for risk in the moment – weirdness is nothing but enough exposure to yourself to meet your truth. Vulnerability then becomes an invitation, not an assessment or a battle to win. I told him I was bringing out my clown suit. I was upfront about my disdain for casualty. I sprinkled in some deep and heavy stuff. Lay it all out on the table, mess it up, and you just might score big time. Our collection of inside jokes has been growing ever since.

Gen Z might be inconsistent in dating, but we’re very consistently misunderstood – notoriously seen as disconnected, irresponsible, cynical. I reject the notion that we lack the social skills to date, the necessary resilience to nurture, or the empathy to see beyond the flaws in one another. We’re not inept at building worthwhile things or immune to love at large. Our problem, rather, is one of permission: permission to show up as ourselves against the cognitive pull that breeds withdrawal and detachment. Permission to keep abreast of our needs, to feel deeply, to fill up the empty space with everything we don’t say out loud. Let’s skip the talking stage, for instance. Permission to take down the coolness scaffolding and be complete and utter weirdos with one another.

I could’ve spared myself a lot of sadness in a decade of devotion to being palatable and acceptable at the expense of my wholeness, but you live and you learn. Truth is, I’m a better person when I’m not concealing, a better lover when I’m not trying at all. When we get good enough at asking ourselves the wrong questions, eventually we’ll get to the right one: if not to be seen in all our bare weirdness and still be met with “Yes, I want exactly that!”... What are relationships even for?

Understanding others helps you understand yourself. Cheers to better, healthier, honest dating. Check out and download Hinge’s 2025 Gen Z D.A.T.E Report to know what’s going on with us, both as individuals and as part of a broader landscape.