A brand new year dating
In November, the Atlantic published a cover story by Kate Julian about our so-called sex recession.
It’s refreshing, then, to see a show that understands the inherent ludicrousness of modern dating — the ambiguity, the risk, the isolation, the threat of violence.Freshly guilt-tripped by my parents for my naked ring finger and the barren status of my womb, I burrowed deep under the covers of the rickety twin bed that was my home away from home for the holidays and settled in to watch You.Fortunately for me, the Lifetime-turned-Netflix original series initially aired in the fall but appeared on the streaming service just in time for that post-Christmas, pre–New Year week of purgatorial boredom.“Well, hello there. ” says Penn Badgley (never better, though this is where I shamelessly confess that I’ve never seen Gossip Girl) in the opening minutes of the pilot, uttered in a tone that carries both wry curiosity and a bit of menace. You’re not the standard insecure nymph hunting for Faulkner you’ll never finish.”And so begins the story of Joe, the charming bookstore manager who takes a liking to Guinevere Beck (“yeah, my parents were assholes with the whole naming thing”) a lower-middle-class Brown alum now getting her MFA in poetry.There are myriad reasons for this shift, according to Julian, in a fairly comprehensive piece that — as is often sadly typical with such articles — tended to focus the bulk of its anecdotal reporting on city-living, middle-class heterosexuals.The proliferation of porn, dating apps, #Me Too, the rise in depression and anxiety — these all make people less likely to date and get intimate. People are less likely to ask you out in real life now, or even talk to begin with,” one woman tells Julian. ’ he’d say.)”Enter You, which begins with that exact ultimate meet-cute: bookstore, witty banter, soft lighting.