Candy for Breakfast
There are many things in society that are unlikely to happen within the next week: a sane political sphere, an end to global warming, the death of Betty White (she’s immortal) and most importantly getting a date this Friday. I know, it is shocking that Betty White is immortal. But also yes, from one twenty-something Millennial to another, you probably won’t be getting a date. Dating no longer exists. It has been replaced with the hot extended cousin to dating, the one you know you shouldn’t fuck because I mean they are technically your cousin but you definitely have fantasies about it. It’s the hookup.
BOOM. There it is. The word heard round the dating world. The thing we all talk about, the thing we all want, the candy we’ve been eating for breakfast. With more meanings than God, the Hookup has nuked the dating world and continues to watch it burn with a sexy smile on its face. It’s the label, the non-label, the excuse, the carefree worry, the fun, the heartache, the cheating, the emotion, the emotionless, the end of dating as we know it. Hookup culture is the new “dating.” It’s completely different from dating but somehow has hijacked this role in modern society. But what exactly is “hookup culture,” asks Grandma Helen from the back of the room with approving nods from the terminally non-singles and other elders. Hookup culture is the concept that you are not dating, nor are you in a relationship, but you’re simply using each other for satisfying that inner need. It’s more serious than a one-night stand but not any more serious…honestly don’t even use the word serious in hookup culture it’s a dangerous buzz word.
The real question is why did hookup culture replace dating? Firstly, and most importantly, hookup culture supports the ideals of non-commitment. There are no strings, no pressure and no responsibility. The perfect solution for the average college student who lives a life as transient as a drifter. You’re not focused on relationships or the drama that comes with them—you’re focused on YOU. Hooking up is the perfect solution to get laid regularly while keeping your life the way it is. You don’t text your hookup everyday, in fact you don’t even text them before midnight. Your life is still yours even though there’s someone else now in it. A horribly sadistic but delicious way to get it all. Not to mention it’s a lot of fun.
But, as you can imagine, candy for breakfast gets old. You’re beginning to miss plain old eggs and wheat toast. Even more than missing eggs, candy for breakfast will eventually get you cavities. Cavities in hookup culture equate to feelings. It’s difficult to have sex with someone repeatedly without feeling something, either positive or negative. But hookup culture doesn’t recognize that. It’s the fine print warning on the contract you forgot you signed when you just started “hooking up.” The good news is that if you’re the one who’s not sick of candy for breakfast and you enjoy the hookup just as it is you have the perfect out. He or she will come to you, confess some feelings, become clingier and worst of all: will text you during the day. But it’s not on you for hurting their feelings, it’s the situation and the mantra of Hookup! So you apologize as much as you can without actually taking any blame (because hookup culture says you don’t need to) and move on to the next person.
This safety net is perfect for the hookup world. You walk away unscathed with good reasoning, or so you tell yourself. But what happens if you’re the one who gets feelings? Your hookup shield has been cracked and you realize that you may be able to tolerate this person outside of a bedroom and perhaps even in daylight. These types of cavities don’t get Novocain and believe me, you’ll feel the pain. The main thing that hookup culture reveals is that Millennials are supposed to be evolved past emotions. You aren’t supposed to care enough to get to know the people you’re hooking up with and you are definitely not supposed to feel for them. It’s this backwards logic that has destroyed dating. Instead of waiting three dates to fuck, you fuck immediately and then spend the next three days deciphering whether or not it meant something—it probably didn’t.