Wednesday, February 8, 2023 // The Statement — 2
On a snowy Wednesday after-
noon in January, I’m curled up in the
corner of a coffee shop with an open
book and shivering hands. As I sip on
a steaming latte to recover from Ann
Arbor’s arctic wind chill, my trem-
bling fingers turn the page under the
furled sleeves of my winter sweater.
The main characters of my latest rom-
com novel meet for the first time, and
Emily Henry choreographs an awk-
ward, yet charming, conversation be-
tween two freshmen at the University
of Chicago. Though the pair couldn’t
be more different, they embark on a
classic friends-to-lovers plot as they
carpool home together at the end of
the semester. Of course, the two just
happen to be from the same town in
middle-of-nowhere Ohio — consis-
tent with a wholesome love trope in-
spired by innocent midwestern roots.
Like many modern-day romanc-
es, Henry’s “People We Meet on
Vacation” exists within the confines
of realistic fiction: A world just similar
enough to our own so readers believe
that they, too, will find their soulmate
whilst loitering in a cafe on a Wednes-
day afternoon — much like I am now.
Whether the characters meet by a
fated book dropped in the hallway
or a mistakenly swapped order at
the local coffee shop, the formu-
la for most rom-coms require a
“meet-cute” scenario to
launch the romance.
As defined by
Merriam-Web-
ster, the term
“meet-cute”
refers
to
any “cute,
charming,
or
amus-
ing
first
encounter
between
r o m a n t i c
partners.” Ac-
cording to rom-com lore, the concept
was born from the 1938 film “Blue-
beard’s Eighth Wife,” describing the
scene in which the main characters
met as they shopped for pajamas and
shared witty, spark-fueled banter. The
meet-cute garnered more popularity
as its role solidified in cheesy movies
and romance novels of the ’90s and
early 2000s. Now, as love-story clas-
sics like “The Notebook” and “When
Harry Met Sally” are succeeded by the
Colleen Hoovers and Emily Henrys
of the literary world, today’s young
adults are still conditioned to expect a
meet-cute of their own. Like many of
my peers, I too hope the realistic part
of the rom-com fiction genre exists
in more than just on-screen, on-page
chemistry.
Yet, as Gen Z is subjected to the
social landscapes of online dating, frat
parties and nights out at bars, are the
meet-cutes that inspire our favorite
romances even a possibility on a col-
lege campus?
As readily detailed in The
Michigan Daily’s Opinion column
“Modern romance is dead, and Tin-
der killed it,” research suggests that
apps like Tinder and Hinge impede
on our ability to make genuine ro-
mantic connections. Not only are we
faced with surface-level information
about the individuals we encounter
online, but also the option-abundant
nature of the apps can turn users’ dat-
ing experiences into sites of instant
gratification; thus, fueling the ad-
dictive minds these companies prey
upon. Moreover, I personally can’t
bring myself to download Bumble or
Tinder when there’s a distinct possi-
bility I meet someone I actually like on
there. What if we start dating and then
I have to tell people that we met be-
cause, one Sunday night at 2:00 a.m.,
he decided to swipe right on a photo
I took two years ago? As a guilty-as-
charged rom-com lover, I’d prefer to
lie and make up my own meet-cute
story rather than expose that par-
ticular truth. However, despite my
personal preferences on the subject,
many have, and continue to meet,
their significant others online. In fact,
your profile’s existence on such apps
can act as a flag of singledom to other
users. On a college campus, where
the 5-mile radius setting on Tinder in-
cludes people you already know from
class and student orgs, a profile can
simply let interested acquaintances
know you’re available.
Outside the digital world, many
university students rely on the cam-
pus party scene to meet one another.
But, like any seasoned upperclassman
or graduate would say, you’re not go-
ing to meet your future spouse in the
basement of a frat house. While our
wise elders may be on to something
there, how are we supposed to meet
anyone when our social settings are
dominated by frat-like events, where
a booming bass and an open bar often
impede our more rational selves?
As anticipated, students who
were taught to expect organic en-
counters with romantic partners are
thoroughly disenchanted with the
realities of dating on a college cam-
pus. Business sophomore, Meha
Nagireddy, describes the challenges
of developing authentic connections
at the University of Michigan.
“Unfortunately, I feel like peo-
ple are primarily establishing rela-
tionships online,” Nagireddy said. “It
sucks because I hate Snapchat. I think
it’s the worst thing. I’ve just stopped
giving people my Snap at this point.”
Rather than experience the in-
person, hopefully witty banter of first-
time encounters, college students
have grown accustomed to conversa-
tions mitigated by smart-device fea-
tures.
“A lot of the time people com-
municate over text messages. Face-
Time is like the big jump indicating
that they are getting a little more se-
rious,” Nagrieddy said. “It’s become
like a game … timing your texts so
you’re not responding too fast and
coming across desperate.”
REESE MARTIN
Statement Deputy Editor
On a Wednesday in a cafe:
Meet-cutes & the complicated
art of college dating
Read more at MichiganDaily.com