Have you ever been essentially dating someone, but then you have one conversation about expectations and now you’re avoiding eye contact with them in Malott? Yeah, that might be fear of commitment.
We’re a group of young, hot, excitable and horny college students all smashed together in the square radius of a mile. It seems like there would be no sense in ever settling down when the next best thing is right around the corner. But when someone wants something more casual and others want something more serious, tensions arise. The conflicting goals are rarely the problem. Most of the time, it’s our inability to communicate about commitment.
Siena: Sometimes, my best friend jokingly refers to me as an aspiring “trad wife” because of my strong desire for a white picket fence and a Range Rover. In the age of TikTok trad wives like Nara Smith and the ever-growing popularity of “MomTok,” a stigma has been placed on women like myself who desire that type of life. Because these extreme examples dominate the conversation, they make a pretty conventional desire — stability, family, a nice home — seem radical or regressive when it’s really not.
The thing that my previous partners never understood about me is this: Just because I’m looking for a long-term relationship doesn’t mean the person I’m dating will be “the one.” I date with long-term goals in mind, but the truth is, I won’t know if that person is my person until we really try. I’ve communicated this again and again, but it still scares people away because they assume that dating me comes with an immediate wedding band. Why does that clarity make people uncomfortable? Why is someone saying plainly, ”I want to test our long-term potential,” so frightening?
Ari: Okay so … I’m definitely on the opposite end of the commitment spectrum. At this moment in my life, I see value in casual relationships. My side of the internet is more like, “Why have one boyfriend when you could have four?” That’s not to say it always works out. I’ve been on both sides: wanting more than the other person, and wanting way less than what they’re looking for.
At 21, I still have so much to learn about myself. Right now, I feel like a kaleidoscope of everyone I’ve ever met. I’ve discovered so much about myself through my relationships, both platonic and romantic. I get to keep what I like and discard the rest. Maybe it’s selfish, but only learning from one person at my age seems … limiting. I like keeping it casual!
Siena: A big part of me desires to be casual, but the simple truth is, I can’t have sex with strangers. My body shuts down, and the experience becomes something to endure rather than enjoy. Recently, I read a book called “Come as You Are.” In it, the author argues that women’s arousal is profoundly context-dependent. Reading that was deeply validating, because for years I thought something was wrong with me.
I crave more than just physical intimacy, which is why I can’t pretend that something casual is enough when it always leaves me feeling empty after.
Ari: I’ve definitely felt that before too with sucky guys, but in my experience, you don’t always need to be in a committed relationship to experience pleasure. To be clear, a late-night Tinder swipe isn’t going to cut it for me either. But as long as my partner and I are having fun and communicating effectively, pleasure is absolutely achievable for me in casual situations.
My biggest issue with casual intimacy is how we’ve chosen to define it. We’ve created so many labels to circumvent the idea of being committed to each other: “friends with benefits,” “talking stage,” “f*ckbuddy” and my personal (least) favorite: “exclusive but not dating.” Exclusively what? Acting like you’re dating but refusing to admit how you feel about each other because the next best thing might just come along?
So to maintain fun and casual relationships, I take a cop-out approach: I don’t label anything. I allow my relationships to simply be, and I stay in them until they’ve served their purpose, whether it be emotional or physical. Unless there’s real commitment, I consider myself single. That can get messy when feelings aren’t equal, but vague labels usually just overcomplicate a pretty simple equation: Either they want to be with you, or they don’t.
Siena: I agree that every casual dating term and category meant to simplify things ends up doing the exact opposite by confusing, misleading and keeping people trapped in limbo — but that’s exactly why I choose to look for commitment. At least being upfront about what I want keeps me from wandering into one of the million categories we’ve invented just to avoid having honest conversations. I want to know where I stand, and I want the person I’m with to know it too.
The thing about that limbo is that it’s rarely neutral. One person gets the comfort of connection without the responsibility of commitment, while the other is left trying to interpret mixed signals and call it enough.
I get it that you hate the pressure of a label, but being in emotional limbo doesn’t work for me. I want clarity so blinding it leaves no room for doubt. If chalant men have no fans, then I’m dead. I can’t operate in a world of half-measures and vague promises. I want to dive in, fully, with no apologies — and I want someone who can do the same.
Ari: Yeah, I see how being in a label-less limbo often leads to uncomfortable and upsetting situations for at least one person in the pair. But I still see the value in that in-between state. The other day, for example, I got approached by this gorgeous guy in a coffee shop. Will anything come of it? I don’t know. Over spring break, I was broken up with by someone I wasn’t even dating. In both instances, I learned something about myself. I also love occasionally dropping off the face of the planet. I’m not ready to give that freedom up. I think your vision for the future is sweet but I’m more of a here and now person. Despite how different our views are, neither of us are really wrong.
Siena: If you’re like me, you’ll look for commitment and maybe end up in a premature marital engagement (true story). If you’re like Ari, you’ll stick to fluidity without labels but risk miscommunication. At the end of the day, it’s all just whatever. Get out and have fun. It’s up to you whether to label it or not.
Siena Giacoma PZ ’27 and Arianna Kaplan SC ’27 are aspiring documentarians of the sexually awkward, which they consider a noble and vastly undervalued literary genre. They have consciously chosen the unstable but vibrant path of writers, betting on a future of rich inner lives and fascinating anecdotes over sensible things like 401(k)s or a basic understanding of Excel.
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