Most people would describe me as a romantic. I’ve read every Jane Austen book at least once, have never successfully watched “Roman Holiday” without bawling my eyes out and, if we’re including my middle school “The Godfather Part II” fanfiction, I’ve written upwards of three full-length romance novels.
Despite that, I don’t have much interest in dating. When I look to the future, I no longer dream of diamond rings and white dresses; just a clean, quiet house, a fully-stocked bookshelf and at least five cats.
It might seem sad, but deep down, I can’t wait to be a crazy cat lady. Here’s why:
The modern conceptions of dating and romance, as we understand them, have only recently come into existence. Prior to the 20th century, “dating” was limited to courtship between a woman and her suitor. The goal of courtship was to provide a supervised route to marriage that would in no way threaten the woman’s virginity.
Marriage itself was rarely a loving union between two people, but a financial institution. Under a patriarchal world order, binding one woman to one man ensured the paternity of children so wealth could be easily passed down from father to son. Daughters, on the other hand, having limited employment opportunities and no independent income, would be sold (sorry, I mean “married”) to suitors to gain financial stability.
Brooley’s Family Law, as quoted by Nicole Barker in her UN Women discussion paper, said that “the very being or legal existence of the woman is suspended during the marriage, or at least incorporated and consolidated into that of the husband; under whose wing, protection and cover, she performs everything.”
Historically, the Western institution of marriage was never about love. It has almost always been an economic transaction akin to buying livestock.
Now that we live in a society where women can work, own property and are legally owed bodily autonomy (sort of…), dating has taken precedence over the outdated tradition of courtship. Romantic relationships aren’t always formed with the intention of marriage, but simply companionship.
That means suitors need something more than wealth to win a woman’s heart — they need good personalities, too, and that’s the problem.
According to a 2024 global fertility report conducted by the UN, “global fertility rates have declined almost continuously over the past half-century, from 4.8 births per woman in 1970 to 2.2 in 2024.” On average, women are having the fewest children in recorded history. This is due not only to women favoring their own autonomy, but to the enduring gender inequality in domestic labor.
“While women’s participation in education and employment has significantly increased,” the report said, “the share of responsibilities in the private sphere of home and family assumed by men remains low.”
No, this isn’t “feminist propaganda.” Nearly every woman I know has struggled with this divide in some way. Whether it’s having to clean her husband’s dirty socks, quitting her job to care for her children or bursting into tears from postpartum stress, why does it seem like a woman always has to sacrifice a portion of her happiness for “love?”
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The problem is that, while women’s roles have changed exorbitantly in the past century, men’s haven’t. Now that we [women] can make our own money, suitors have nothing left to offer us romantically except for good company — which can be difficult, considering men don’t often treat us too well.
Almost 30% of women globally are subject to gendered violence, and 8% will experience sexual assault in their lifetime, according to UN Women. This surge in violence is partly fueled by increasing misogynistic content online — termed “the manosphere” — often bleeding into real-world violence. These online communities tend to propagate the myth of a “male loneliness epidemic,” in which many young men feel they’ve been unfairly cheated out of sex and dating thanks to female liberation movements.
The truth is, women haven’t “cheated” them out of anything; they just no longer exist under constant servitude to men. And yet, thanks to centuries of patriarchal indoctrination, many men still believe they have a biological right to a woman’s body — the root of this so-called “loneliness.”
As women, why isn’t our loneliness considered an epidemic? After all, many of us are abstaining from love and sex, too. Of course, I’d love to fall in love — who doesn’t? — but I just don’t think it’s worth the risk.
I recognize that as a woman, if I were to get into a relationship, there’s always a higher likelihood of risk and an unfair share of the domestic burden. And, above all, I just haven’t met anyone worth sacrificing my solitude for.
Some mediocre small talk over coffee’s nice, but I always feel much more fulfilled sitting at a table on my own, or with some close friends. Having that choice is a small victory in and of itself; it’s exactly what our foremothers fought to give us.
Karma Abboud is a sophomore studying international studies and professional writing, as well as Spanish and Arabic. She is an opinion writer for The Miami Student, a mentor in the English Language Program and president of Miami’s Arab Student Association.



