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

