Staff Writer Jennifer Hensey explores why young women remain increasingly drawn to stories of prolonged yearning, love triangles and emotional vulnerability despite having more freedom and choice than previous generations.
In a moment where young women have unprecedented freedom to determine their futures, youth culture is becoming increasingly dominated by stories of intense romance and emotional vulnerability. With the recent success of Young Adult romantic dramas, such as Off Campus and The Summer I Turned Pretty, young audiences are investing in sincerity over cynicism, reflecting a desire for clarity in an era defined by choice, instability and endless possibilities.
However, a paradox presents itself in the cultural obsession with love triangles and romantic edits: why are young people so fixated on romance in an era of newfound liberty? Young women today enjoy freedoms unavailable to previous generations, such as having greater access to education and marrying later than previous generations. According to the ONS, the median age for women entering an opposite-sex marriage in England and Wales reached 33.0 in 2023, compared with 27.6 in 1994. Meanwhile, women continue to be more likely than men to progress to higher education: according to GOV.UK, 42.0% of female students in England went on to higher education after 16 to 18 study in the 2023/24 cohort, compared with 32.0% of male students. These shifts reflect a wider expansion of the choices available to young women, particularly around education, careers and when or whether to marry. Yet, romance appears more enticing than ever in popular culture.
Throughout the 2010s, internet culture was defined by irony, encouraging young people to adopt aloof, self-aware personas. However, trends today steer towards sincerity as youth are compelled by emotional transparency rather than self-preservation. This transcends fiction; from the rise of BookTok communities to Taylor Swift friendship bracelets, it is now unfashionable to be embarrassed to care deeply about someone or something. Off Campus and TSITP succeed because they encourage audiences to embrace genuine emotion rather than be intimidated by it.
For example, as one half of TSITP’s love triangle, Conrad Fisher’s refusal to move on from his first love, Belly Conklin, despite her relationship with his brother, Jeremiah, demonstrates a rare display of loyalty, the feeling of being chosen and unwavering affection in a modern landscape of abundance. Similarly, the notoriously casual style of intimacy for college students in Off Campus is overturned when Garrett Graham’s hard shell is cracked by the clear emotional stakes between him and his fake girlfriend Hannah Wells. These stories ignite young people with hope for sincere connection in times when both romantic and economic reassurance feels unsteady.
With the decline of irony’s cultural prestige comes the rise of economic uncertainty in the real world, shaping patterns of consumption alongside it. The reality of unstable futures for young people amplifies the appeal of reliable romance. As young people struggle with the cost-of-living crisis, delayed home ownership and turbulent modern dating landscapes, romance narratives offer the rarity of certainty. Observing others, navigating their own contemporary realities of less reachable traditional milestones not only offers reassurance on the stage of life they are at, but provides a template on balancing ambition and progression with love in adulthood. The pull of romance therefore becomes economic reassurance, lending structure and escapism from the contemporary hardships of young adulthood.
Paradoxically, more choice can create more instability. With the endless choice and temptations produced by dating apps, modern relationships require constant evaluation. However, romantic fiction simplifies this complexity through insight into our favourite characters’ thoughts, feelings and experiences.
Though, this argument for the growing modern attachment to romance may be disputed as love stories have always been a focal point of fiction. Are we simply noticing it more due to social media?
This resurgence in romances does not necessarily mean young people are retreating from new-found independence, but rather seeking guidance to navigate the new terrain of twenty-first century adulthood. To read the popularity of shows centred on love triangles as nostalgia for traditional gender roles feels misleading. Instead, it reflects a desire for emotional clarity in a culture defined by endless choice. The attraction of Off Campus and The Summer I Turned Pretty may reveal less about romantic ideals than about contemporary adulthood itself and the outlets young people seek to relieve their anxieties around finance and modern dating. The fantasy lies not in romance itself, but the persistence of commitment amid instability through stories of romantic certainty.
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