Fifteen years ago, my then sixty-year-old and twice-divorced grandmother joined a salsa dancing class at our local town hall. Most of the people in the class were her age and older, retirees looking for something to fill their time. My nan adored it—she went weekly, dressed in floor-length gowns with glamorous hair and makeup. They would dance around the room, switching partners, until one day, she found a partner she didn’t want to switch. After they finished their routine, the suited man handed her a ten-pound note to go to the bar in the back of the hall and buy herself a drink. When she turned back towards him, he was dancing with another lady. So, what does any woman do in that situation? She marched over, interrupted, and gave him his two pence change. Fourteen years later, they married.

They continue to dance but only with each other, and on my step-grandfather's side of the bed sits a photograph of her in the same red dress he first met her in. A few days ago, at a family dinner, I watched the way they laugh with each other and how easily they can simply *be* in each other’s company. I contemplated for a moment, then leaned across the table to her and asked, "Do you believe in true love?" With a slight smile and a softness in her eyes, she said, "Absolutely."

I believe that to love, you must have absolute faith in its existence. Otherwise, it’s like when you’re a child and find out that Santa Claus isn’t real—you don’t tell your parents, but you realise the magic is gone. It simply can’t be the stuff of fairy tales.

Watching those in long-term marriages around me, I can see the fruits of patience and commitment.

In contrast, last Friday, I spent the evening having drinks with two of my closest friends, who I’ve known for nine years. We’ve seen each other grow and go through the trials and tribulations of transitioning from children into women. We bought our first bras together, switched from fizzy drinks to coffees, and supported each other through heartbreaks. Between us and a collective twelve relationships (over nine years!), one thing has stayed consistent, our friendship. That alone gives me faith in enduring love.

While sipping rosé, we reminisced about stories over the years. One of my friends started telling us how she’d gone on a Hinge date recently. It was a guy she’d been talking to for some time, and they decided to go for dinner. They had a lovely time, great conversation and great food. In the spirit of putting herself out there, when he asked if she wanted to go around the corner to his flat for a drink, she said yes. It was only 9 p.m., and her location was on. She walked into his flat, sat down on his sofa, and he went into the other room, presumably to get the drinks. When he walked back into the lounge, he stood there in his boxers and said, "Lights on or off?" She didn’t stay for a drink.

When I compare my grandparents’ relationship to modern dating culture, where even a promising date can turn into a joke, I realise how disconnected our generation is from the slow and careful way of finding love.

So, what has gone wrong? What switched in the brains of those born around the millennium? What the f*** is a talking stage, sneaky links, and who are these people on Hinge who fill out every question with a full stop or an "X"?!

Part of me feels it’s due to the fact we have always over-consumed. We’ve grown up in a world where everything is instant- takeaway food, online shopping, entertainment, and validation. But a massive culprit creating toxic habits is porn.

If we’ve spent our lives surviving on a diet of unrealistic expectations, how can we ever make the choice to pick a person when every person we meet will be imperfect? We can’t even manage to watch a video for longer than sixty seconds without skipping to the next one. We always want more, something better; we’re always looking for that next dopamine hit. We swipe, chat, and move on. So, has this transferred into other areas of our lives?

For arguments sake, it's fair to say that modern dating apps have opened doors previous generations didn’t have. We can meet people from different backgrounds and distances, but with that comes the paradox of choice, the feeling that someone better is just a swipe away, preventing real, deep connections from being formed.

A mistake we often make in our twenties is thinking we have all the time in the world. In a sense, we completely do, we have time to make mistakes, figure ourselves out as individuals, and create a life we love. Being single is brilliant; your decisions are entirely your own, and it’s the only time you can be completely selfish. So, if you are single, enjoy it, sincerely. But one thing that’s transpired from these toxic habits is that we seem to think it's okay to tap through people, the same way we scroll through videos. We try people on like clothes, then discard them to put on an outfit we deem better.

If you find the most beautiful dress, it fits you in all the right places, it’s your favourite colour, of course, you will adore it. You wear it everywhere proudly, and everyone compliments you. One day, you walk past a shop window and see another dress. It’s the opposite of the dress you’re wearing, and you’re intrigued. You make a rash decision. You buy it, excited for the change. You can’t wear both at the same time. You take the old dress to the charity shop the next day and go home to put on your new dress.

When you look in the mirror, you don’t recognise your reflection. The dress fits you all wrong, the material is uncomfortable, and the color drains you. You realize your mistake and try to go back to the shop to buy it back, but it’s been sold. But people aren’t dresses. (You can wear as many dresses as you like in real life- the more, the merrier.)

Of course, sometimes people aren’t for you, and that’s completely fine. You shouldn’t try to squeeze two jigsaw pieces together that don’t fit. If somebody causes you serious harm, puts you in danger, or you’re in an unhealthy situation, then yes, absolutely, leave and learn. But what ends most relationships at a young age is simply boredom or fear of missing out on something else. Why do we choose convenience over connection?

Relationships absolutely are not the focus of your life, you are. However, if you are lucky enough to find someone you truly love, appreciate, and who makes getting up every day better, why would you tap out of that? Just because you’re twenty-four instead of thirty-four? What if you never find someone like them again? You won’t. I’m not saying you won’t fall in love again after you’ve partied every weekend, slept with various people, and ‘got that out of your system,’ but what if you can’t get them out of your system? What if you have an opportunity right now to grow with someone instead of growing apart?

Relationships change, they evolve. Sometimes it doesn’t work; sometimes it does. But if it does, if you could do life with one person, share all your stories with one person, and know that you loved each other through everything, how beautiful would that be if the circumstances were right?

I’m not saying you should cling to something that doesn’t serve you, but if you think you’ve found your person, why would you look elsewhere?

I think being a hopeless romantic has a lot of negative connotations, but I wear that badge with honour. In every situation I've been in, there’s one thing I can say confidently: I had faith. I will pour water onto a flower until it grows, and if it doesn’t, then the next flower will get the same. A dear friend sat across from me the other day and told me she admires me because no matter what, my heart remains open. Maybe that’s stupid; maybe I shouldn’t have it placed on an operating table, ready to be hacksawed, but otherwise, what’s the point of it all?

I’m not saying you shouldn’t have boundaries or be protective of the love you preserve just for yourself, and you shouldn’t be entirely careless with who and what you choose to love. In a world full of instant gratification, hookup culture, and uncertainty, I choose to love fully or not at all. In the end, I see that my grandmother’s love is not about finding perfection. It's about choosing to love again and again, through the good and bad. I will continue to have the faith my grandmother did. Why not choose to try, choose to want more years with one person, choose to love? (Even if you end up leaving claw marks.)

S***, I'm a grown-up.

Ellena x