Judging by the ultra-sophisticated and scholarly articles of Facebook newsfeed fodder sites like Elite Daily and The Huffington Post, there appears to be a laughable misperception of just exactly where relationships and love have gone. They refer to my generation as The Hook-Up Generation and proceed to blame this ideology for all of our broken hearts and Ben-&-Jerry’s-binging-while-watching-Nicholas-Sparks-movie-marathons. To say their individual claims are uneducated is inaccurate, as they draw their opinions from personal experience, which is a form of education itself – I guess. However, choosing to view a multidimensional generation through a one-dimensional scope shaped by ‘he banged me then never called again’ is something I find contention with.

First of all, to characterize us all as living in a “unique” hook-up culture is to completely disregard the extensive history of the Hit It & Quit It. To continually perpetuate the idea that we’re all doomed for love because of this “brand new” idea of the casual sexual encounter is fear mongering at a rudimentary level. The only idea these articles contain that even approximates the real issue are the brief mentions of how social media is contributing to the hook-up generation – but their logic is backwards. Because, guess what, we can’t call ourselves the hook-up generation – if any generation earned that title, I’d venture to say it’s a tie between early pre-historic hominids and the Baby Boomers. We don’t deserve it. The only thing we have that’s different and unique about us is that we are the first group of adults who have grown up in a burgeoning social media atmosphere, thus I’m championing a nomenclature change for my generation:

Generation of Whiny Social Media Bitches.

(Oh, don’t get too butthurt. I’m not standing apart and calling everyone else this – I sometimes collectivize myself amongst the whiniest and bitchiest of the Social Media Generation.)

All I’m saying is that if you’re banging your head against the wall wondering why you can’t find that Tom Hanks/Meg Ryan kind of love, there’s a chance its because a) you’re too deep in the throes of social media/what other people think, or b) you’re a whiny bitch (there is a “c” option, I’ll get to that later). Because love is out there, it does exist, but the I want what I want when I want it mentality accrued through the insta-fication of everything else in our lives eradicates our faith in the universe to give us love when we’re ready – therefore turning us into whiny bitches.

I mean with that attitude…

Now, this is not a striking indictment of social networking, nor is it a call to arms against photographing your lunch and showing it to the whole world. I have no remaining fucks to give as to whether the internet is turning all of us into cyberspace slaves or disassembling genuine human connection. It just is, it exists, its out there. It can be deadly, it can be anxiety inducing up the whazoo, it can be videos of llamas spitting or pandas devouring their young. It is religious. It is ideological. It is “political” – and here I use emphatic air quotes, because how much does the guy who posts pictures of himself shirtless at the gym with the caption #keepinit100 really know about foreign policy or economic structure? He just wants to make sure his guns don’t get taken away (Do you see what I did there? Because guns? Muscles? I’m hilarious.)

Things are just different for us. Everything is instant. You could be bopping along happily in the throes of love, then receive a text that says I’m boffing Sarah now. It’s over. Then the earth opens up like a chasm and swallows you whole. Or you could be scrolling through your news feed looking for pics from that Vegas trip you went on last weekend, praying to Murgatroyd that your boss doesn’t see how shmammered you obviously were, when you see that your ex-boyfriend is now in a relationship.

Instant belly flop into a pool of lava.

Thanks to the instafication of every thought or emotion, we’re all a little bipolar, we’re all filled with some anxiety (text me back, oh God, oh please, just text me back! Oooh, look! A picture of a teacup pig wearing rain boots, d’awww). Oh and we’re all severely ADD. I can barely get through a homework assignment without watching that one video of the frill necked lizard frolicking on two feet through a field with the veracity of a stomping bull – if you haven’t seen it, watch it, immediately. Open another tab and watch it. You can read this stupid article anytime, but if the NSA decides to stop its spying and shuts down the internet for good, you’ll have missed the most important video to ever exist.

I digress.

The point I’m trying to circle back to is that love is out there. It has not gone anywhere. If you feel it does not maintain a large enough presence in your seemingly empty life, it probably has more to do with your own pre-existing anxiety and insecurities than the ascending prevalence of social media or casual sex. Then again, the numbers do not lie, and statistics do purport that my generation has more people single and ready to mingle than any point in history. Some can choose to view this as a horrible thing, as a sharp decline in intimacy and yadda yadda yadda. I, however, am going to take an optimistic approach and say that the lack of committed relationships means we are all choosing to put ourselves first, make sure our hopes, dreams, and ambitions are amply fulfilled before we weave our strings inextricably to another human with their own hopes, dreams and ambitions.

Putting your goals first is a beautiful thing. Here is why I believe more people are choosing this route:

We have all watched what happened to our parents. They were married so young, had kids very young, displaced careers and dreams and opted for love – so damn young. So few of them captured the dreams of their youth, even fewer were able to land a job doing something they loved. So many of them work in occupations that shred their soul fiber by fiber – just so that they can keep the family afloat. This causes tension in a marriage, tension in a household, and I don’t think I’m speaking for only myself when I say: watching my parents drove me to put success as my first priority. I am so grateful for them, they have done so much for me, but knowing that doing all this for me meant my mother working for a man with the temper of the Tasmanian Devil, and my Dad working in an environment where every fallen domino sets off a chain that could potentially take the whole company down, made me feel guilty for everything I’ve been given. I hated that they had to suffer so that I could have a decent life. So, I saw their suffering, and I decided that if there was any way to repay this, it would be to become a startling success. This comes first. Relationships come in around 5^th place.

In fact my hierarchy is kinda like this:

1. Working hard –> Success/Bein’ a Gangsta
2. Family
3. Friends
4. Burritos
5. Romantic Relationships

I don’t think I’m alone in this epiphany. Yes love is a beautiful, magical, wonderful thing – but the ability to love yourself, be happy with what you are doing, to feel some form of purpose or drive – this may very well blow love out of the water in terms of long term satisfaction and happiness. Tying your happiness to another human is risky business, and I’m confident that when the time comes where I and my potential significant other have fulfilled our dreams, that this unity will be effortless, not be full of sacrifice and compromise, void of college bullshit and untainted by other people’s opinions. I will wait for that day, and until then, will not compromise any part of myself.

And on that note: not for one second am I going to believe that my singledom has anything to do with this trope of hookup culture. I think we are not giving ourselves enough credit, and I want to remind those lost in despair and feeling unloved, that we are not in college to go wife/husband-hunting. We are here to navigate towards our passions. If you find your true love along the educational path, and it works out where you’re both happy career-wise, social-wise, and are still able to maintain meaningful friendships with people of the opposite gender without pissing off your significant other, then FUCK YEAH. That’s awesome. But it’s also rare.

So don’t take that one-night stand too personally, don’t refer to him as an asshole for never calling you again. Appreciate how fun the sex was, and be grateful that he didn’t waste your time with a connection that clearly wasn’t there. Remain hopeful in love, but more than that, remain hopeful in yourself. Remember that guy who you refer to as a douchebag is a human. Treat him with respect, because any time you waste ripping him a new asshole will keep the anger alive in you and only add more reason for him to dismiss you as a crazy bitch. Remember that girl who you call a whore is a human. Treat her with respect, because if dudes get to volcanize the whoopee stick with anyone they want, women should be allowed to as well. Love them, love them all, because you get from the universe what you put into it, and if you spend all your time hating people for their selfies and shirtless mirror pics, for their insatiable sexual appetites, while mourning your lack of romantic attachment – then you are not being a productive person. If you are plotting a John Tucker-esque revenge on every failed romantic pursuit, then you might need to take a look at how lost our world is, look at how much it needs you to be a positive force within it. If you are sitting and lamenting over the fact that you were born into this “lost” generation, and didn’t exist in the 50’s or 60’s or 70’s when love was abound (also abound: WWII, Cold War, & Vietnam), then you are not checking your goddamn privilege. Appreciate your place in time, and have some faith that it will all be okay. And if it isn’t okay for a while: burritos exist, Shiba Inus exist, and you probably have a few friends who’d be willing to shotgun some beers and play Super Smash Bros with you.