Sorry, Valentine’s Day is cancelled: we’re in a relationship recession. Analysis of demographic data by the Financial Times shows a dramatic decline in married or cohabiting young adults, with tanking “relationship formation” rates in countries as diverse as Thailand, Finland, Peru, South Korea and Turkey. In the US, the marriage rate fell by 54% between 1900 and 2022, while younger people aren’t even dating: the percentage of 16- to 18-year-olds who report having dated has dipped under 50%, the Atlantic reports, “with the decline particularly steep in the past few years”.
My immediate thought is: well, obviously. The resurgence of the far right, accelerating climate collapse, geopolitical instability and deep economic precarity aren’t exactly Marvin-Gaye-and-oysters vibes. As relationship red flags go, isn’t getting horny amid imminent global catastrophe one of the biggest, reddest ones? I just have to imagine Elon Musk and I’m ready to be walled up in an anchorite’s cell.
In the immediate aftermath of the US election, women (sorry, “childless cat ladies”) expressed similar sentiments; not pussyhats this time, but a sort of repulsed withdrawal. That included renewed interest in South Korea’s 4B feminist movement, which rejects marriage, childbirth, dating and sex. “Doing my part as an American woman by breaking up with my Republican boyfriend last night and officially joining the 4B movement this morning,” one young woman posted on TikTok on 6 November.
This reflects a political split in gen Z along gender lines: 56% of 18- to 29-year-old men voted for Donald Trump, compared with 40% of women. Research suggests they are moving dramatically further apart, too: the ideological gap between young American men and women almost doubled in the past 25 years. It’s a similar story in other places, including the UK (where twice as many young men as women voted for Reform in the general election, which is quite the ick).
You can see that this might affect straight relationships. You don’t have to agree on everything, but I’m not sure how long even the most powerful attraction could make you overlook your partner thinking feminism had “gone too far”. I wouldn’t put out for anyone who didn’t support my reproductive autonomy – and abortion is among the most divisive issues for young people, according to a pre-election Gallup poll.
Then there is dating. A “total nightmare” for women was the Cut’s verdict last summer: transactional, adversarial, even frightening, with readers chiming in with horror stories of everything from flakiness to felony. Simultaneously, the #boysober hashtag emerged, whereby young women vowed to quit apps, dates and hook-ups; part political statement, part self-preservation.
No one enjoys apps anyway: 78% of respondents in a recent Forbes survey felt “emotionally, mentally or physically exhausted” by them at least some of the time; 23% of gen Z answered “always”.
So is this … bad? On the “maybe” side, the US is experiencing an epidemic of loneliness, according to the surgeon general. In Great Britain, 7.1% of people report feeling chronically lonely (being 16 to 24 is a particular risk factor). But I don’t think that maps neatly on to rising rates of singledom: a bad or failing relationship can feel like the loneliest place on Earth.
A more persuasive answer might be “not for women”. Last year, researchers at the University of Toronto analysed 10 studies conducted between 2018 and 2023 and found that single women reported “higher relationship status satisfaction [than single men], higher life satisfaction, higher sexual satisfaction as well as a lower desire for a partner”. Women, they concluded, “are, on average, happier in singlehood than men”. Perhaps that is because they have “stronger social support beyond romantic relationships”.
This hints at what could make this less a relationship recession and more a reframing: looking less prescriptively at how we define the fulfilling relationships in our lives. That is already in the ether. There is a greater openness to imagining bonds beyond conventional coupledom; gen Zers, in particular, are more open in who they would consider dating and more invested in friendships. We are social animals who crave love and connection, but that needn’t mean being till-death-do-us-part coupled up in some rigid category of romantic partner. The more expansively we define love, the more likely we are to find it.
Emma Beddington is a Guardian columnist
