Written by Jennifer Kai Yam Lau
Last academic year, the first cohort of LSE students went on exchange at NYU, swapping Houghton Street for Washington Square. There, as in London, the city is the campus, and dating stretches far beyond the classroom. From crowded bars to matching on Hinge, New York’s dating scene becomes the blueprint for college dating life, unlike at universities where the dating pool is often campus-bound.
But does entering the city’s dating world so early, rather than being cocooned in a traditional university town, actually create better literacy in love? For many, the answer is complicated.
Living in New York City, just like London, comes with expectations that extend beyond simply residing there. The city fuels ambition, courage and the belief that anything can happen. It also draws a specific kind of student to NYU: career-driven, highly mobile and deeply motivated. Whether pursuing acting, finance or fashion, students are already living a part of a young professional’s lifestyle. And when schedules are packed and the future feels uncertain, dating becomes something to fit in rather than to build around, prioritising convenience over commitment.
“The baseline assumption is that it’s going to be noncommittal,” Singaporean Psychology final-year Ingrid Goh said. “In New York, the city attracts a lot of busy professionals that either act like or actually are just so busy that they kind of only schedule a date when it accommodates their schedule.”
“It’s a double-edged sword because they’re too ambitious, and don’t care about a significant other,” Data science final-year Sophie Ledger seconded.
Compared to her dating life in London, Ledger feels that dating in New York City often involves more structured, traditionally chivalrous gestures from planned dinners to intentional invites rather than casual conversation over pints. Yet, despite this formality, relationships tend to move faster and feel more rehearsed, as if dating follows a familiar timeline. The same goes for full-time NYU students.
“It does feel like part of a script – you buy the girl a drink, then go home and all this stuff,” NYU student Delaney Renwick, who transferred from California, said. Renwick added that men there were more direct, and that the speed of dating can feel overwhelming. “I felt like a prize to be bought.”
Renwick described dating in New York City as a shocking shift from the frat parties and date nights of her Californian small town culture she’s used to.
“NYU students are very, very much focused on what they’re studying, why they’re there, networking, internships, and all that stuff. Dating has never really seemed like part of the equation,” Renwick said.
Does that sound familiar? Swap Washington Square for Houghton Street, and the description holds: spring weeks, coffee chats and a calendar built on recruitment cycles with the occasional dates slotted in between. LSE students know this version of dating, arguably more than NYU students, better than anyone else.
As a result, student dating life in the big city is subsumed into wider city life rather than the experiences of a campus romance. When NYC and London dominate in bars and clubs, campus dating itself takes the sidelines and students are pushed into the realities of city dating outside of college much earlier.
NYU’s size and academic diversity itself creates a natural divide. With more than 65,000 NYU students – one of the largest private research universities in the United States, multiple campuses and 20 schools including various degree programs and students of all ages, creating everyday connections can be difficult. Therefore, dating spans both campus life into the broader New York City – often involving older crowds and students from other colleges. Compared to roughly 12,000 students at LSE, meeting people is easier but the feeling of belonging is more difficult.
So how do students navigate this landscape? Through dating apps.
The abundance of millions of young adults fuels these apps, commercialising connections and reinforcing the paradox of choice. Profiles of heights, ages and jobs are endlessly scrolled through to find the ideal partner. Love becomes commodified – constantly rotating profiles and dates treated as transactions.
“You’re judging them in such an objective way, rather than as a person,” said Goh.
Although this could be framed as efficiency, there is an underlying cynicism to the constant availability of choice. It becomes much harder now to decide to sit down and get to know someone truly, when replacing them with another ambitious single feels easy.
“You end up matching with so many people that are options,” Goh added. “It’s hard to take each date as seriously.”
Dating in New York City is emblematic of our generation’s complicated relationship with love. Cynicism towards love is masked as intelligence, while wanting commitment is seen as naïve rather than courageous. In the cultural mess of situationships and avoidance, love is ironically endlessly discussed and aestheticised, yet never fully being practiced with intention. Living in the city often dubbed as being restless, thriving on motion and ambition, this self-preservation feels safer than vulnerability. Maybe the challenge of dating here in New York City, or London, is not to find the next best option, but learning when – and how – to stay.
“We are still driven by the same urge to have connection and relationships, that’s never going to go away,” Ledger said. “But we’re now going for the most convenient option.”
