They say Paris is the city of love, but for my family, romance feels more at home within the hallowed walls of the Quad than along the Champs-Élysées. On these 300 acres, my two uncles and three aunts didn’t just survive spirit weeks or toast Franklin Field — they wove their love stories into the very fabric of Penn itself. Amid dodging the Compass and discovering their favorite hangout spots, they found what every romantic dreams of: the elusive soulmate.
It's been a month since I’ve stepped into their old stomping grounds, and I can’t help but imagine their shadowy silhouettes everywhere I go — from studying together in Fisher Fine Arts Library's creaky chairs to locking eyes on a balmy spring evening along Locust Walk. But, as I wander through our buzzing campus today, the one thing I can’t envision is their love stories in our generation’s landscape. Could my aunt and her now-husband really have had a meet cute at a frat party? (Are they really reminiscing about the same inebriated, Sahara-like heatwave I witnessed last weekend?) Would they even have known what a “mutually exclusive situationship” is?
And most of all, it makes me wonder: If they lived in our day and age, would they have found each other at all?
There’s been a noticeable shift in how our generation approaches love. What was once a quest for “the one” has, for many, morphed into an endless loop of fleeting hookups and makeouts. A recent study revealed that a staggering 91% of college students are now entangled in hookup culture. But we weren’t always like this. Somewhere between us 2000s kids growing up on “She’s the Man” and “10 Things I Hate About You” and arriving at college, I think something changed. Maybe it’s the realization that balancing coursework and social life leaves little time for Channing Tatum-style grand gestures. Or maybe our fairytales now come with a caveat: a return offer from MBB (and if you’re the sole Penn student living under a rock, that’s McKinsey, Bain, and BCG).
Specifically at Penn, the issue seems to extend beyond just evolving romantic ideals. Here, love feels like another item on an already overflowing to-do list. I’ve found myself skipping dinner plans because my schedule’s booked solid from dawn until well past dusk. We’re all striving to be the best — academically and socially — in a room filled with the best. All while navigating a relentless pressure to “SABS” (See and Be Seen) at every event, our social success is just another box to check. Unlike my aunts and uncles, who navigated a simpler time focused on building a few meaningful relationships, many students today would easily trade that in for 500+ LinkedIn connections. As senior Cathy puts it, “Most people at Penn aren’t dating — because they just don’t have the time. People tend to hook up at a frat party and then forget each other’s names altogether.”
It’s as if the pursuit of romance has become more about bragging rights than real connection, reflecting the same fast-paced, transactional culture that drives Penn’s academic and social scene. We seek out immediate gratification and quick wins — whether it's through hookups, resumes, or club acceptances — but leave little room for deeper, more lasting relationships.
Some argue that this hookup culture offers freedom — no strings attached, no complications. But as a first year, teetering between being an outsider and a fully initiated Penn student, I can’t help but wonder if in this quest for “hyper-independence,” our generation is missing out on something more. Is it really independence we’re receiving, or are we just trying to avoid the vulnerability of opening ourselves up to real connections?
Yet, to all those hopeless romantics, don’t lose hope. Junior Sara shares that despite the dominance of hookup culture, she found her long-term boyfriend seated right beside her in chemistry class. “I think you just have to look for it in the right places. Don’t be afraid to strike up a conversation with new people. Not everyone’s looking for something casual.”
Maybe love will never return to the way it used to be at Penn. But I still think that amidst the rush to secure LinkedIn connections, it’s essential to forge real ones — whether they’re romantic or platonic. When I look back on my college days, I doubt I’ll remember Ohm’s law, but I will remember the 3 a.m. conversations with strangers about the meaning of life and the warmth of a picnic with my roommate on College Green. Love may have changed, but it quite literally remains cemented on our campus — you only have to seek it out to find it.
Worst case scenario? There’s always the Penn Marriage Pact to fall back on.
DIYA CHOKSEY is a College first year studying cognitive science from Mumbai, India. Her email is dchoksey@sas.upenn.edu.
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