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Forbes
4 days ago
- General
- Forbes
The Emotional Cost Of Dating Men And How Women Are Rewriting Rules
Photo by DIMITAR DILKOFF/AFP via Getty Images. A new cultural lexicon is emerging, and at the center of it is a term that captures the private exhaustion and public irony many straight women feel toward modern relationships with men: heterofatalism. Initially coined by academic Asa Seresin and recently spotlighted in the New York Times Magazine and Sexual Health Alliance, heterofatalism refers to the resigned belief that heterosexual relationships are emotionally unfulfilling. These viewpoints suggest women pursue them anyway because they feel there might not be better options. However, beyond the memes and gloomy quips lies something more profound: a crisis of expectation, a mismatch of emotional labor, and an opportunity to reframe how straight women approach dating with greater clarity, curiosity, awareness and self-leadership. This article explores the psychological and cultural roots of heterofatalism, synthesizes dating and relationship science and offers tools for dating men today without compromising your softness, emotional essentials or standards. What Is Heterofatalism? When Cynicism Masks Hope Unlike heteropessimism, which performs emotional detachment for irony or cool-girl effect, heterofatalism carries a heavier emotional resignation. Women may say, "I am hesitant about men," only to download the app again the next morning, reflecting not just disappointment in individual men, but in the more all-around system of heterosexual romance. The internal dialogue might become something like: "Even if I know better, even if he might not meet my needs, I want to pursue the connection anyway." As the Sexual Health Alliance notes, heterofatalism often arises from a lack of relational modeling, and from watching women in our families "choose partners they did not seem to like." It can be intergenerational, systemic and reinforced by media that glamorizes dysfunction under the guise of chemistry. But how can we distinguish one from the other? Here's where self-agency comes in. Cultural Conditioning, Romantic Myths And Emotional Labor Popular culture has long sold women the idea that love will heal, elevate and complete us. But research on romantic beliefs suggests that idealizing a partner can actually predict greater disappointment over time, especially when initial chemistry masks incompatible values, true friendship or aligned long-term goals. Even well-meaning narratives like "men should protect and provide" can reinforce benevolent sexism, an ideology that seems sweet but ultimately positions women as passive recipients of male behavior. These beliefs can make women more likely to excuse or romanticize emotional immaturity in men in the personal and professional realms alike. It comes as no surprise that women in heterosexual relationships might often feel like they carry more of the emotional labor, initiating hard conversations, managing conflict and tracking their date's emotional needs. This imbalance contributes directly to the burnout that fuels heterofatalism, a widespread apathy towards the dating scene. The Psychology Behind Attraction And Repetition Classic social-psychology theory suggests people pair with those of similar social desirability, also known as the Matching Hypothesis. Yet in the world of dating apps, this can backfire. Research analyzing millions of profiles reveals that both men and women often pursue partners who are estimated to be about 25% more attractive than themselves, despite these advances yielding fewer responses. In other words, chasing someone perceived as "out of the league" is common, but it is rarely successful. The convenience of mobile dating comes with its own set of challenges. A 2024 Forbes Health survey reports that 78% of users feel emotionally, mentally or physically exhausted from app use — and women report slightly higher rates than men. This aligns with qualitative findings showing "burnout" results from repeated cycles of hope, ghosting and emotional drain, or what researchers call mobile-online-dating fatigue. Gen Z daters report even higher rates: nearly 79% say app fatigue has influenced them to seek offline alternatives or authenticity-first platforms (RAW app data, 2025). Apps like Bumble and Hinge are responding by introducing features such as conversation prompts and "double-date" modes to ease cognitive load and enhance engagement, too. Why We Repeat Patterns: The Pull Of The Unavailable Beyond algorithms and exhaustion, attraction is often shaped by what feels familiar, rather than what is healthy. Many women report being drawn to unavailable or emotionally inconsistent partners due to unresolved attachment patterns. Unsurprisingly, this dynamic perpetuates cycles of disappointment masked as excitement, especially in high-status, emotionally ambiguous men. Heteropessimism refers to the ironic detachment and performative complaint about men while still participating in heterosexual dating. Its emotional tone is often askew and cynical, and it has become a staple of memes and social media commentary, such as 'men are trash.' Heterofatalism, on the other hand, carries a more profound resignation: the belief that dating men may be unsatisfying, but there's no better alternative. Its tone is more defeated and ambivalent, emerging from emotional labor burnout and accumulated relational hopelessness, among others. It's Not About Not Dating Men, But Dating With Discernment, Intention And Self-Sovereignty Heterofatalism is not about giving up on love. It is about letting go of scripts that exhaust us. Instead of abandoning desire, we can choose to desire with clarity and intention. Instead of succumbing to resignation, we can reframe the terms of engagement comprehensively. Because dating men doesn't have to mean enduring disappointment, particularly when you choose based on emotional congruence rather than cultural programming, dating becomes a space of alignment, not depletion. Finally, as a researcher and therapist, Dr. Alexandra Solomon says, 'Healthy relationships are not found, they are built. Moreover, you can only build with someone who is also ready to build with you.' So no, the answer is not to stop dating men. The answer is to stop dating men who drain your brilliance, and to start dating as the woman who chooses herself first.
The Guardian
05-02-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Love in Exile by Shon Faye review
Sometimes, if you are a straight woman, it can be tempting to see your sexuality as a curse. It is a cliche to talk about the uselessness of men, but I do it anyway: it is a neat way of avoiding the fact that I too can be selfish and cruel to the men who go out with me. Writing in the New Inquiry in 2019, Asa Seresin used the term 'heteropessimism' to refer to this tendency among straight women. As Seresin points out, this way of thinking is not terribly helpful, because it is really an abdication of responsibility. If men are irredeemable, and loving men is always going to make women unhappy, then we don't have to attempt the difficult work of trying to make our relationships more equitable. What makes Shon Faye's memoir about love so refreshing is that it resists heteropessimism, and tries to do something more hopeful. Faye is a trans woman who spent years convinced that she would always be an 'exile' from the closed world of heterosexual romance, but the idea she puts forward in this book is that this sense of exclusion is not unique to her. Faye argues that, collectively, we ask too much of romantic love: we expect it to solve all of our problems and when, inevitably, it doesn't live up to the hype, we feel excluded from the 'happy kingdom' of successful partnership. Instead of blaming men for love's disappointments, Faye analyses her breakups to try to imagine better ways of approaching relationships. This is a memoir but it is also a kind of self-help book. Faye is trying to teach herself – and her reader – how to love in a different way. Much of Faye's writing is deeply personal, but a political thesis underpins Love in Exile. Drawing on the work of the academic Mark Fisher, Faye argues that, under capitalism, love has been privatised. The erosion of the welfare state has put intolerable stress on couples by making romantic love the exclusive source of affection that should properly be found outside the home, in labour unions and within communities. Faye's analysis is not vague here – she references specific cuts to local authority budgets that have chipped away at the social care infrastructure – but still, I found these parts of the book unconvincing. Faye argues that we idealise romantic love as the source of all meaning and happiness because capitalism has failed us, stating that we began to conceive of love as 'transcendent' and 'quasi-spiritual' during the industrial revolution, when community bonds started to dissolve. I don't doubt that better social care provision would alleviate strain on couples, but blaming your failure to find love on capitalism, as Faye does here, feels a bit of a reach to me. Haven't human beings throughout history always turned to their lovers for a specific form of intimacy and affection that cannot be replaced by community support networks, even if they were fully funded? Also, if we have to end capitalism before we can attempt to have successful romantic relationships, then my future – as a single, 33-year-old woman – looks bleak. Love in Exile is more enlightening when Faye suggests specific changes we can effect – on an individual level – to make our relationships more enriching. Throughout the book, she pushes herself to acknowledge her own role in creating dysfunctional relationship dynamics. Writing about sex, Faye suggests that she actually presents herself as less desirous than she really is in order to shore up her gender identity: 'The more I present myself as a passive actor in sex, the more I satisfy the cultural demand placed on trans women to be non-threatening. The more I – frankly – seem like a woman to others.' The best writing in this bookacknowledges that we fall in love in a capitalist patriarchy, but doesn't pretend that women are only ever passive victims of those systems. Heteropessimism is fun because it is easy. To be reminded that you have agency is uncomfortable, but it is also freeing. In a chapter towards the end Faye writes about how to cultivate kindness and compassion towards herself. This is the closest Love in Exile gets to straight self-help, as Faye shares strategies like learning to 'say no' more, and trying to silence her own internal critical voice. (Faye is so funny and self-deprecating that her advice is never preachy, but she writes that one thing that has brought her some measure of peace is regular prayer.) Love in Exile is sincere in a way that reminds me of bell hooks' 1999 book All About Love, which Faye cites as an influence. Like hooks, Faye is prepared to mine every experience, and share every hard-won lesson to try to get her reader to love in better ways – even if those lessons are, in their very earnestness, exposing. I find her vulnerability generous. There is no redemption arc here. Faye writes in her postscript that she hasn't found romantic love, or even total self-love. She suffered a new heartbreak in the middle of writing the book, and was shocked to discover that she had 'acquired no new mastery over my own emotions'. It hurt just as much. But the end of this book is, crucially, optimistic. Faye refuses cynicism and commits to trying again. Her writing will shake your illusions about love, but remind you of the value of even attempting it. By the time I put down this book I felt hopeful about men, and heterosexuality in general – which, considering I read it in the aftermath of a breakup, is no small thing. Love in Exile by Shon Faye is published by Allen Lane (£18). 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