Manuel Lopez | Staff Illustrator

There seem to be two main camps in our generation when it comes to romantic “firsts”: those racing to keep up with people around them, and those reluctant to enter uncharted waters.

I started noticing this split within Gen Z in high school, but now that I’m in college, I think about it a lot — at Forum meetings, the Saturday mornings spent debriefing Friday night with friends, and even in some of my classes. (If you’re taking “Early Texts and Contexts,” The Tempest is chock-full of firsts.)

I’m honestly tired of worrying about how my “firsts” will be perceived by others. Too late, too soon, too slow, too messy. Or, not messy enough, as some of my friends would argue.

In recent months, opinion sections of top news outlets around the world have stressed Gen Z’s apparent romantic “readiness paradox,” wherein we want connection — and maybe romance — but we’re too scared to take any action. As a result, we feel a little lonelier than previous generations.

Even some researchers say that college is considered “late” for having a first kiss. I think for romantic “firsts,” there doesn’t need to be a societal timeline. There shouldn’t be.

For both Gen Z and Millennials, shorter lists of romantic endeavors are more normal than ever. According to the Survey Center on American Life, 44% of Gen Z men self-reported not dating when they were teenagers. Gone are the 1990s with their “Never Been Kissed” romantic-comedy takes. In their place come the 2020s, with many young people spending absolutely no money on dating whatsoever, according to Fortune.

Part of the reason for this could be our modern-day perceptions of romance and intimacy. Social media, pornography, smut, erotica, and made-for-TV teenage romance movies are all slightly altered versions of “firsts,” and usually not the most accurate. A StudLife mentor of mine explained the falsity of our perceptions of “firsts” like this: Everything we see is a copy of a copy of a copy. Of course, the promposal you saw on TikTok was perfect — you saw a heavily-edited 15-second clip of a process that may have even been the second take.

Now, despite all of the opinion column coverage of our apparent lack of first kisses, relationships, and… other things, I’ve also observed the opposite. Couples from my middle school shared graphic details with me about activities that could best be described as concerning for our age group. Another pair got engaged during our senior year of high school. Everyone’s superficial congratulations masked our quiet whispers of horror and worry.

In high school, many of my friends had to remind themselves that it was okay to not have had their first kiss or relationship — myself included. I only really started dating my first boyfriend in high school because I felt like I was falling behind, even though I was only a sophomore.

Then, I broke up with him. I did it for a lot of reasons, some of which I told him, and one very small reason that I didn’t: I was scared I would be a bad kisser.

Really, most everyone’s first kiss is less than stellar. First anythings (romantic or not) usually lack skill. One of the main reasons our more hesitant camp of people waits so long to have their firsts is the preconceived notion that it’s going to be bad.

There’s the rub: Most of us want romantic experiences, but we’re scared of being judged for checking boxes too late or too early.

To address both camps (and everyone straddling the line), try not to let external forces influence when you choose to have your “firsts.” Everyone’s timeline is different, and that’s okay, whether you’re realizing you’d rather slow down or speed up. Just stop trying to make your “firsts” fit someone else’s definition — they’re your firsts.