3/17/25

Somewhere out in the world, there is a 20-something-year-old filling out their Tinder profile for the very first time, and wracking their brain for the bare essentials they need to find in a relationship. 30 years ago, liking Pina Coladas and getting caught in the rain would've been sufficient information to put in a personal ad to garner enough interest. Today, you need something a little more captivating to catch the average swiper's attention. Downloading any dating app today would quickly allow the average person to notice more than a few patterns, keywords, and phrases that feel more repetitive than authentic. Above all, one of the highest-grossing words to catch the eye of the typical online dater is "communication". It shows maturity, growth, and most importantly, a willingness to take a relationship seriously. But in a generation of relationships so vague in their nature that we had to create a completely separate category for them, almost exclusively referencing the lack of maturity, growth, and especially communication, how important can the Golden Buzzer of profile buzzwords truly be?

 In its definition, communication is one of the most pivotal developments any one person can learn to utilize properly. We first begin experimenting with the concept as babies, babbling and moaning to simulate the sounds our parents make, before eventually becoming intelligent enough to actually formulate the words themselves. Some grow to throw tantrums as a way to express frustration, some get angry, and others use their words, the latter often being the most tangible and likewise, preferable, way of displaying one's feelings. However, around middle to high school, everyone hits another pivotal point in the maturing process. We were given two options; learn to use verbal communication - almost exclusively - or continue to utilize physical expressions such as tantrums, anger, and vague facial expressions open for interpretation to convey what we're feeling. The downside is, sans facial expressions, most physical manifestations of emotion are not the best to hang on to, not only because of their juvenile nature, but equally because the need for verbal communication to form lasting and well-formed relationships grows exponentially stronger as we age, and we all have to hop on board with the arguably most mature way of communicating, or always be thought of as the guy that punches holes in walls. 

Growing up, I was always a very expressive child, and in many more ways than one. Of course, in my younger years, I was not a stranger to the occasional tantrum, but one of the most prominent phrases in my house was "use your words". I expressed when I liked and didn't like things; what I wanted and didn't want; when I was happy or sad or angry. For the most part, I communicated as most children should, and - especially regarding my emotions - better than some. The issue I had was communicating the less positive side of things. Though tantrums, fits, and crying convey messages to a certain extent, by the time learning how to communicate is no longer as much of a hurdle, such acts are much more frowned upon. This is where that second pivotal moment comes into play, where our brains make a decision to take the definitive maturing step, or to stay and develop into what will later be called "emotionally unavailable" human beings. This is equally where our parents play a massive role. We learn from the relationships that exist around us, and aside from childhood friends which typically involve very little critical communication skills, we develop most of them through the relationships we have, and observe, with our parents. 

The tools our parents pass down to us can often make or break the difficulties of our later adulthood, as many frequently struggle with the things that simply didn't exist in their own homes. My home taught me my "please" and "thank you"'s, but more importantly, the premise of "love" was significantly emphasized. We all knew we loved each other, we told each other that fact every day. We asked each other how our days were, and though such kindnesses were never taken for granted, they did have an expiration date. We excelled in positivity, never-ending a day without assuring those in our family that we loved them (normally), but we never quite got the hang of arguments. When things were not positive, they got bad at an abnormally exhilarated rate, and it quickly became personal before they needed to be. A request to move a front seat forward, asking someone how their day was, or - God forbid - expressing an issue with any one specific thing ran the risk of turning into a multi-day feud when brought up at the wrong time. Asking someone to chew with their mouth closed became an argument of why they hate them so much; telling someone to finish their dinner became a discussion of whether or not they were a good parent; I learned quickly that no amount of love would prevent the idea of hate being brought to the table. This awareness of "problem communication", whether the takeaway was to learn what does and does not need to be said, or to simply only express positive feelings and thoughts, was an equally pivotal education in the long run - one that provides long-lasting results on the ways we go about communication in the future. The premise of communication is to share one's thoughts in a way that allows for a better understanding of an individual, so what happens when one ceases communication regarding some of the most essential feelings to express - the uncomfortable ones - and how does that impact the relationships, especially the romantic ones, they choose to pursue down the line?

In my experience, college was the most formative time to develop such a skill. In previous years, I had the cushion of inexperience, and the blame of my situation for excusing my timely immature mindset, but by the time renting an apartment, pursuing a career, and creating some of the most essential relationships I would find myself in came to fruition, my only option became to learn the proper way to conduct myself to make all of that happen. Communication and maturity go hand in hand, which results in the former growing in a less-than-linear manner. For example, in high school, I, along with many of that age, had the mindset that I was as mature as I could be, and thus behaved accordingly. In that, I wouldn't communicate some of the most necessary thoughts, or would do so in a way that yielded neither constructive nor beneficial results. More often than not, one's ability to communicate revolves around their own idea of what good communication looks like, which is why having a mature mindset, and a good amount of growth built up within oneself is crucial for communicating thoroughly, leading to romantic relationships are especially being impacted by the lack thereof. Unlike middle school or parent-child relationships, romantic partners are, more or less, two strangers who find each other attractive and build a relationship on those principles. Having interests, hobbies, friends, and experiences in common aids in the ease of formulating a healthy one, but given the prevalence of social media and dating apps, meeting someone in person in which those benefits exist is becoming increasingly less common. 

Let me tell a story. Say a man, Brett, meets a girl, Brenda. Brenda grew up in a house that emphasized the significance of emotions and expressing herself. She was in touch with her "self", had good grades, had a small but close group of friends, and a relationship with her parents that suggested love rather than obligance. When Brenda would get in trouble, her parents would explain their disappointment, rather than belittle her until she got the point. Brett played sports. He grew up where "achievement" was something that hung on his walls and not a feeling felt within himself. His parents loved him but, because they knew he knew that, he didn't grow up hearing or saying it very often. One time, Brett missed a game because he wasn't feeling well, and his parents took his phone away for a whole month. He was friends with every guy on his team, and still talks to them three years into college despite going out of state. He never really had to think about his emotions because they weren't something that came up in conversation very often. Now, let's say Brett and Brenda match on Tinder. They start talking, and beyond finding each other immediately attractive, they also seem to have very similar values. Brett claimed to be mature for his age, as did Brenda, and they both expressed boredom with the dating culture of today. Before long, they go on their first date, and then a second, and then a third. Two months in, they both still feel butterflies every time they see each other, and even though they never expressed exclusivity, Brenda decides to delete Tinder because who else could she possibly be interested in? She tells him she's loved their time together every time the night comes to a close, and he always nods in agreement. After a casual dinner, Brett declines to come over to Brenda's apartment for the first time, and despite nothing feeling off about the date prior to this, she can't help but wonder why that might be. Sometime that night, Brenda is telling her friend about Brett; how he seems like the perfect guy, that she's loved seeing him, but that he hasn't made anything official yet. Simultaneously, Brett is telling his friend about "this girl" he's seeing, saying she's really cool and special. Urged by her friend, Brenda decides to call Brett, and ask why they aren't official, and why he suddenly can't come over. He claims he was just tired, and wanted to spend the night by himself, but avoids the more complicated question. Upon hearing Brett's friend over the phone, the conversation Brenda intended to have grows into an argument about serious relationships, implications, assumptions, and communication. Brenda is confused as to why he suddenly doesn't seem like he wants anything serious with her, and Brett is mad that Brenda would think that despite not feeling as though he has given her a reason to. To her, she feels like he's gotten bored with her, and doesn't understand why he wouldn't have said he wasn't having a good time weeks ago instead of wasting her time finding out for herself. However, Brett feels as though Brenda has jumped to conclusions, and that his lack of serious steps forward is just an implication of his pace in the relationship, and not how he feels about her. 

The issue this presents is one that I feel many a modern 20-year old is struggling to overcome. As we age, our grip on both maturity, and communication is linked to every mature moment and communication we've had throughout our lives, and thus, we each develop in extremely individual ways. This is something I have always struggled to reconcile within my relationships; platonic, romantic, or otherwise. I'm someone who, despite acknowledging that I am far from the most or best-developed individual, certainly takes my experiences into account, and especially in my later life much of those experiences have revolved around the way I, and others, communicate. The phrase "Im not their mother" finds common place in my vocabulary, meaning that I - not being anyone's mother -  do not take the responsibility of educating somebody on things that I find they should be well educated on at their big age. This mindset has proven to be both beneficial and stunting. While in many cases I should not have to tell someone that a relationship requires interaction to be mutually beneficial, or that cleaning the counters will prevent bugs, I also have to understand that some people simply have a different experience with what being mature looks and feels like. And the same can be said for communication. Understanding that we all have different ways of expressing our wants and needs and emotions is crucial to doing so conductively. Brenda knew what she needed out of the relationship and expressed it, and Brett knew what he liked and felt as though he had done the same, but neither one communicated those feelings to the other in a way that resulted in either of them getting what they wanted in the end. 

Relationships at an age in which they evolve from desire rather than circumstances are a tricky enough object to navigate, only made more difficult by the fact that we ourselves aren't yet at a point in our in which we are consistently "grown" enough to maintain them. "Communication" has become a symbol of such growth, serving as the key buzzword between mature and immature ways of thinking, but at this age, how much does it actually mean? The best we can do is strive for ways to improve it, rather than claim to have already mastered it - as more often than not, in five years time we will look back at ourselves as we always have and wonder why we thought we had it all figured out. Communication is something, much like relationships themselves, that we all hope to have nailed down at some point, yet it seems that no matter how old we get, a full understanding of the concept continues to evade us. My belief is that this is a result of things like Tinder, and social media making these staples of maturity and identity become more synonymous with a checklist of what those things should include. We don't want to communicate, but we want others to believe we are not only capable of it, but that our way of doing it is innately better than theirs. When the reality is there is no right way of doing things like that, and there is no correct rate of growth, or maturity level one should be at. To me, it feels it would be more productive to remove "communication" from our dating profiles, and simply date or befriend someone based on the evidence in front of us. Rather than curating a plethora of buzzwords to seem most desirable, surround yourself with people who would desire what you truly bring to the table - which, at the age of 21, communication most likely isn't included.