Gen Z doesn’t need better rizz. They need more curiosity
Picture this. Two friends at movie night. That night’s feature: Richard Linklater’s Before Sunrise (1995). More than halfway through the film, somewhere between Céline (Julie Delpy) and Jesse (Ethan Hawke) debating reincarnation on the tram in Vienna, my friend sighs dramatically, “Well, of course they fell in love. They spent the whole day talking—actually talking.”
Her exasperation wasn’t unfounded, especially when it feels like modern dating is rife with norms designed to keep us guarded and nonchalant. Terms like ‘talking stages’, ‘breadcrumbing’, ‘ghosting’, and the big scary ‘situationship’ reflect a cultural zeitgeist where connection has become something to cautiously assess rather than wholeheartedly experience.
Dating apps only intensify this mindset. Somewhere between the tenth picture of a potential match flexing at the gym and another claiming that the way to their heart is “through their stomach”, you realise that despite the abundance of options, actually choosing someone on these algorithm-driven platforms is surprisingly difficult. It’s a phenomenon psychologists call ‘choice paralysis’. With another potential match always one swipe away, emotional investment starts to feel half-hearted, as though committing to one means closing the door on someone better. In such a scenario, watching Jesse and Céline become genuinely invested and curious about each other within the span of a single night almost feels fantastical.
Maybe that’s why, for 24-year-old journalist Gargi Shetty, curiosity is a love language in itself. “Flirting and compliments are fun”, she says. “It keeps you on your toes, keeps the spark alive. But curiosity… that’s what creates the spark in the first place. How can you say you love someone if you don’t consistently want to know them better?”
Instagram creator Preston Rakovsky (@prestonrack) explores a similar idea in an episode of his viral content series ‘Be Real With Me’, where he interviews strangers in New York about love and relationships. In one of the episodes, a woman recalls realising that the man she was seeing wasn’t right for her when he ordered them a salad on one of their dates. It wasn’t about the salad but what it represented: she hated vegetables, something everyone in her life knew about her. Except him. He had never asked enough questions to know.
It is, as the adage goes: To be known is to be loved. A compliment can be flattering, a witty pickup line can make you giggle. But curiosity feels more intentional, because it demands attention, not just admiration.
Psychologist Arthur Aron’s ‘36 Questions That Lead to Love’—a three-part questionnaire designed to accelerate closeness between two strangers—was built on this very premise. The questions begin innocuously enough: “What does your perfect day look like?”, before gradually progressing to deeply personal ones like “When did you last cry in front of someone?”
Aron’s questionnaire has been tested several times since it was first created in 1997, most notably by New York Times writer Mandy Len Catron, who tried them out during a date with a college acquaintance and, well… fell in love. As she later recounted, “Because the level of vulnerability increased gradually, I didn’t notice we had entered intimate territory until we were already there.”
The reason these questions continue to stand the test of time is that they’re built on the premise of mutual curiosity. Both ask, both answer, and crucially, both listen. The age of social media has made us remarkably good at broadcasting ourselves but far less practised at paying sustained attention to someone else. As 23-year-old MBBS student Dr Aryan Tambe says about one painfully awkward date, “She made no effort to initiate any kind of conversation. It was exhausting, trying to come up with things to speak about.” His voice trails off. “Maybe she just wasn’t interested enough.”
