“My parents met in their junior year of college and got married after graduation. When’s my turn?” is a story I hear all the time. It seems that some students’ parents had great success finding the loves of their lives in student clubs, campus jobs, and, surprisingly, at parties.

For me, college is not just a place where I get my education and gain professional independence, but also the only place where I have the chance to find someone with whom I could see a future. College is where love stories happen. Four years. Four chances. That’s all I got. For a long time, I thought that was the deal. However, as a former hopeless romantic and future junior, I have realized that my story may not sound the same. Oh, how tragic. But maybe not?

First, it’s important to acknowledge that dating culture no longer looks like the 1990s. It’s not slow-burning crushes that turn into relationships. It’s Hinge when you’re lonely. It’s situationships that span months. People rarely say they’re “dating”; they’re “seeing where it goes,” which usually means nowhere. Ghosting is normal, and commitment? Never heard of it. Everything lives in this vague gray area where no one wants to say what they actually feel. We share locations, playlists, and childhood trauma and still refuse to define the relationship.

But this might be the practical thing, too. At a place like WashU, we’re all busy and swamped juggling classes, research, internships, club leadership, and whatever career we already planned three years ahead. Relationships start to feel like another chore instead of something fun or spontaneous. It’s easier to keep things casual than risk time, energy, or emotion.

The pressure also grows when there’s a quiet social worth attached to finding your partner in college, usually enforced by older generations. “We met in college” isn’t just a cute story but also a life accomplishment, especially for women. It is a measure of responsibility, maturity, and desirability. The couples who settle down are proof that college wasn’t just academically productive but personally productive, too. At family gatherings, those stories are told with pride, while being single after graduation means getting asked, “Anyone special yet?” or “No one caught your eye?” Obviously, relationships then start to feel like something you’re supposed to have by now, not something you choose.

But this doesn’t have to be tragic. College is one of the most unstable, transitional periods of our lives. Students switch majors, rethink career paths, and move to different cities after graduation. The person someone is at 19 often looks very different from who they will be a few years later. Expecting to find a lifelong partner in the middle of all that feels less romantic and more exhausting.

There is also value in the independence that comes with being single. Not rushing yourself to find a soulmate at 19, but rather taking the time to figure out who you are, is freeing. Yes, it’s less cinematic than the “we met in college” story, but it’s healthier and saves you from a lot of unnecessary heartbreak. Without centering your life around a partner, you build deeper friendships. You learn how to be alone. You make decisions for yourself without constantly compromising. You figure out what you actually want.

I’m not saying that dating is pointless or that college has to be some self-imposed exile from romance. Exploring relationships is meaningful and even beautiful. But there’s a difference between dating because you’re curious and open and dating because you feel like you’re supposed to find “the one” right now. Taking the time to understand yourself first makes you a better partner later. Go into relationships because you genuinely care about someone, not because you’re scared of being lonely. It’s a lot easier to love someone well when you’re not just trying to fill a gap.

Maybe most of us aren’t going to leave here with a soulmate, but we’re most definitely leaving with group chats, half-finished plans, a career path, and a slightly stronger sense of ourselves than when we showed up. And that’s probably what college was meant to give us in the first place. The love stories can happen later, without the pressure of a four-year timeline hanging over them. Maybe they’ll even be better for it.