The Curse of Casual: Modern Dating, Situationships and the Dreaded “Nothing Serious”

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I’ve had more than my fair share of casual relationships, and it’s safe to say that I absolutely despise them. I am not bashing those who choose to be in casual relationships and see them as the best course of action at a particular time in their lives. With proper communication, mutual understanding, clear boundaries and shared respect, casual relationships can be great. They can be pressure-free, a source of regular sex with someone you like, a way to experience romance and intimacy without commitment, and a way to maintain independence and flexibility.

The issue is that they’re not usually like that, and they become messy, sometimes causing more hurt and agony than actual, committed relationships. People tend to use these relationships to avoid communication rather than realising how essential it is to make them work. Whilst it’s nice that we have more freedom than ever before, these kinds of relationships still play into the hands of the patriarchy — making women’s bodies easily available and useable commodities for men without the expectation of commitment, care, or consideration.

Of course, not all casual relationships are like this, and men are not immune to being used or developing feelings for their partner in these situations. In my experience, casual relationships — the umbrella term that I’m using to refer to casual dating, situationships, casual sex, etc. — are a way for men to have their cake and eat it. Each casual relationship for me has been completely different. Unpredictability coupled with the lack of communication that characterises them makes them a minefield. When I say they are good for men, I mean that they provide men with sex, company, and all the other trappings of a relationship without the commitment and feelings on their part. I’ve fallen pretty head over heels for some of the men I’ve seen casually, whilst they’ve been able to swan in and out of my life as they please, with no repercussions.

Only one of the men I dated casually openly communicated his intentions straight off the bat. He told me he wasn’t looking for a relationship, that he just wanted someone to spend time with and be intimate with without pressure or commitment, and he left it up to me if I wanted this or not. I was honest. I was dating other people, I had just moved to the area, and I still wanted to see him. With all our cards on the table, it was nice. It was casual as casual should be.

However, my other experiences of casual dating were less than ideal. One only discussed his intentions months after we’d gotten involved, once I was attached and had developed feelings. Eventually, he used the excuse of our casual status to ghost me (because if you aren’t in an established relationship, you’re free to drop the other person at will without a second thought). I was utterly distraught and heartbroken, constantly questioning myself, my appearance, my actions, and my self-worth. I lost myself and a stone in weight.

Worse than that was the one who only revealed his true feelings to me when he was ending the relationship, almost a year later — though he was adamant that he'd been clear (he hadn’t been because I wouldn’t have stuck around). His actions didn’t match his version of things. He made me feel as if I had found someone special, someone who truly cared for me, someone I could be intensely emotionally and physically intimate with. It broke my heart.

Whilst both parties should communicate their needs and what they want from the relationship (and I do take responsibility for, and regret, not communicating my desired outcome), for me, the onus is on the person wishing to keep things casual to ensure they have the consent of their partner, and it’s what they both want. They should make sure they have communicated and established boundaries to avoid leading someone on. Sadly, this doesn’t always happen.

Casual dating, sex and relationships are complex, and the current culture of this kind of noncommittal throwaway relationship is deeply damaging. It’s like you’re constantly jumping through hoops to impress someone.

When they’re gone, you constantly think about where it went wrong and what you did. At first, it left me with an overwhelming feeling that I was the problem, and there was something fundamentally wrong with me that meant I only attracted people who saw me as a feelingless object to be used and discarded. It hurts. It hurts when you see them happy with other people and wonder why they couldn’t feel that way about you, even after the feelings are gone. It hurts when people say they weren’t the ‘right’ person for you when you hadn’t felt that way about anyone before.

Casual relationships can be great if you’re both on the same page. But physical and emotional intimacy always lead to a connection and feelings, and it’s dangerous to play with people’s emotions, intentionally or not. But all this is a reflection of our current dating culture. Traditional ways of meeting people are becoming rarer; dating apps and DMs are becoming the norm. Whilst this means you have access to lots of people you may not meet in your usual circles, it also means that people can constantly look for something else, something “better”. Rather than spending time forging a relationship, you can swipe, match, and sleep with someone in 24 hours. Without wanting to sound preachy, these relationships have stunted the ways we communicate and connect.

I’ve come out of this casual dating culture feeling demoralised, dejected and jaded. The more people are interested in me, the more sceptical I am. After my first experience, I was heartbroken, and I blamed myself. However, I’ve since realised that the way people treat you reflects how they feel about themselves. I’m no longer questioning my self-worth like I did the first time. I’m no longer asking what I did wrong or why I wasn’t enough, because I am enough, and I am worthy of love, commitment and honesty. My experiences have shown me the importance of communication in all relationships, setting boundaries, not settling for less, and honouring my needs. And, whilst I wish I could’ve learned these things differently, I’m glad that I have.

by Lydia Dickinson

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