Does being a Tory mean I’m not ‘woke’ enough for love?
If dating wasn’t difficult enough, just wait until you broach Brexit, laments
We were on our second date when everything crashed. I knew something was adrift as Ben stared into my eyes with a certain wariness. “I feel weird about the fact you’re a Telegraph writer,” he suddenly said, sipping his beer regretfully. “My mates warned me to stay away.”
We’d been getting on so well before that, talking animatedly about science and dogs until the pubs chucked us out. But I knew it was all over. How could I date a boy who treated my Right-wing persuasion as if it was chlamydia?
With his penchant for woolly jumpers and audacity to turn up in a cycling vest for date two, perhaps I should have seen the signs. That a socialist had stumbled into my romantic path.
Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised: dating at 30 is a Leftleaner’s game, with studies suggesting over 70 per cent of 18 to 24 year olds voted Remain in the referendum, while analysis on how under-45s might vote, should a second one take place, puts that number up to 82 per cent.
The impact of recent polarising political events has been seismic, and while most people acknowledge that Brexit has caused social divisions, these usually describe friendships and families, rather than youngsters looking for love. Are fractures locking people into the single market, too?
One of my good mates, a 34-year-old guy with similar views to me, is sick of politicised dating apps. He showed me a screenshot of one of the many woke women he’s been subjected to.
One profile reads: “I get along best with people who can check their privilege and hate the Tories”, another says men
Charlotte Gill
can only contact her if they “also strongly believe that toxic masculinity is suffocating and there should be no room for its traits and damaging behaviours in society”. There was also the girl who warned not to go out with her if: “You disagree with veganism”. He eventually called dating apps quits after an evening with a whiny Corbynista, although it turned out her worst offence was being teetotal.
Another male friend, 35, showed me a profile of a woman who said she values “kindness” and “compassion”, yet writes “f--- the Tories” in her self-summary box.
“As someone who has had relationships with people who were strongly Labour, it’s depressing to see that politics has become a more acceptable barrier between people when dating,” my friend says. “Even if you voted Remain, or if you don’t like Boris Johnson, you are guilty by association.”
On Twitter, when I asked others about this societal phenomenon, other users replied to say they had been rejected on Grindr and Okcupid because of politics.
“You have to be liberal, otherwise you’re doomed”, wrote one young man.
I did my own investigation on Hinge, one of the most popular dating apps.
I hadn’t been on it for some time, as nowadays I prefer to meet people in real life, but the time spent away made me realise just how much worse things have got.
For starters, huge numbers of profiles ward off Conservatives and Leavers, while one man lists “bloodletting the bourgeoisie” as his hobby. Never do I spot anyone rejecting Labour lovers or Europhiles.
Forget having a nice smile or enjoying films; among the hundreds of profiles I combed through, recycling, veganism, feminism and socialism were in demand for women.
One individual said he wanted “Strong legs, confidence, intelligence, an ability to get passionate [and] an understanding of the environmental impact of life” as preferences in a mate.
And whereas men used to post photographs of their abs as a form of peacocking, this has been replaced with virtue signalling instead. One Bumble candidate boasts that he wants to safeguard “a patch of the rainforest” (hubba hubba).
A Hinge user says “Mental health, eating less meat, and protecting natural resources” are his favourite things. Are these meant to be aphrodisiacs?
Nichi Hodgson, author of The Curious History of Dating, offers an
You have to be liberal, otherwise you’re doomed
interesting hypothesis for the trend: “Where once people would never have dated outside of their social class, now they fear to stray outside of their political tribe. Politics is the new class when it comes to people staying within their mating lane.
“Historically speaking, this really became apparent in the Eighties when traditional class/money categories began to meld”.
Jenni Hill, 29, from Manchester, is adamant she doesn’t want a Brexitvoting boyfriend. “I refuse to date Tories or Brexiteers and I don’t feel the slightest bit bad about it … It’s simply a matter of being realistic about the type of people I’m compatible with,” she tells me. “If I went out with a guy who has a shrine to Boris Johnson or blames immigration for the state of the NHS, we’d just be arguing all the time. And I’m sure the relationship would be just as insufferable for him as it would be for me.”
But is everyone this militant? Tentatively I send a Leftie a message on Hinge. On his profile, he claims that Jeremy Corbyn is not Left-wing enough. “How do you think he can be more Left-wing?” I ask.
Graciously he explains, before moving onto the complexities of capitalism, fossil fuels and the Soviet Union, and I’m beginning to think this Leftie is a good egg.
“Do you think communism hasn’t been done properly?” I ask him, before he laughs and accuses me of making fun of him. Even when the Leftie works out my journalistic affiliations, he pursues conversation, eager to know why I voted Brexit.
But by the end, I am ultimately left wondering what the point is. Maybe I’m just as hypocritical as the Leftie and Europhile daters.
For some Tories and Brexiteers, the answer to all this dating app backlash is simply to be upfront. Tom Russell-mesenge, 27, has no qualms about listing his hobbies as “reading The Spectator and dreaming of a sovereign, independent United Kingdom” on Hinge.
He tells me “I’m proud to put up my politics because I want to be honest about who I am. If people don’t like it, then that’s their prerogative, but I suspect any serious relationship would not go very far if they are a ‘never kiss a Tory’ type anyway.”
Maybe Tom’s got the right approach. Personally I’m not convinced that politics should be such a big barrier when it comes to finding love; to me, shared values have never been simply about who you vote for, but what you really thought about Love Island, and whether you think that Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri is possibly the most overrated film of all time (it is, just in case you were wondering).
That’s why these metrics worked in the old days of dating. They may sound trivial, but often it’s the little things that say a lot more about a person than what box they ticked at the polling station.