The Night Out Is Dead — & It’s Killing My Dating Life

I read something recently that brought a tear to my eye. Earlier this month The Guardian ran a piece titled “‘By 8pm it is time to head home’: whatever happened to the big night out?”, observing that drinking habits have shifted from night to day. As someone who likes going on nights out, I think this is unbelievably sad. If you are a fan of a day session because you can get a kebab at 8 p.m. on the way home, be tucked up in bed by 10 p.m. and feel rested for work on Monday, I am happy for you — I applaud you, even. But I hate starting early, because I find it too hard to leave (if I start at 12 p.m., I’m still going home at 7 a.m., that’s just the way it is). The Guardian piece is just one recent example of journalism that adds to the growing sense that British nightlife is dying — and I’d argue it’s taking our dating lives with it. Recent research shows that in the past four years the UK has lost 37% of its clubs, which works out at about 10 clubs closing each month.

Apparently Gen Z (which I am on the cusp of) are drinking less, if at all, and focusing on health, wellness and “soft lives”, which prioritise relaxation, leisure pursuits and spending more time inside or around nature. COVID certainly had its part to play in the decline in clubbers but in my opinion, for those of us who went out before COVID hit, it’s the cost of living crisis that has really screwed us over. Nothing dampens your desire to ‘send it’ like having little to no expendable income. It’s no fun flirting on a sticky dance floor to Pitbull’s “Give Me Everything” when you can’t afford to buy someone you fancy a drink, never mind give them everything (tonight). 

I’m not here to defend partying as a thing that you should absolutely do every weekend. We have come on leaps and bounds in our attitude towards mental health, drinking and recreational drug use and I think everyone should prioritise their mental and physical health above anything else. However, what I will stand on my soap box and say is that the decline in nightlife is killing our dating scene. The night out used to be the prime place to meet people IRL. People with whom you could flirt, exchange numbers, take home and date. Now, when we do make it out of our brain-rotted, meme-pickled scroll pit, we’re too skint, app-obsessed and insular to bother sparking conversations with fellow clubbers. Everything is too damn expensive. 

In October, the chief executive of the Night Time Industries Association, Michael Kill, told The Standard that many hospitality businesses “are effectively paying 30 to 40 percent more to operate their businesses, and they’ve had to pass that on [to consumers]. But we’re also seeing a 15 to 20 percent downturn in trade where consumers have got less disposable income.” The cost of a night out coupled with so many local venues closing has meant that there is a severe lack of places to meet people to date organically. Therefore, young people rely on dating apps, which are making them unhappy (see: memes like this one). According to a report by Ofcom, “analysts speculate that for younger people, particularly Gen Z, the novelty of dating apps is wearing off”. The report adds that dating app use has declined significantly in the last year, with a drop of nearly 16% in the use of the top 10 most popular dating apps. Those who do use them likely do so because they would rather swipe to find a date than spend money on a night out to meet someone. 

What has absolutely not helped is the fact that no one seems to end up on casual or accidental nights out anymore. Spontaneity, who is she? I, for one, simply do not know her. I blame the self-optimisation movement. Some of us have our lives planned to such a degree that we would not dare mess up our carefully primed weekly calendars. No no, can’t possibly come for one, I have my Wednesday morning gym class. Can’t miss it, sorry!x Pints after work on a Friday leading to a spontaneous night out with your colleagues? Thanks to working from home, it’s practically unheard of. Previously, these impromptu evenings could lead to you meeting the love of your life, like Refinery29 sub editor Katy, 39, who met the father of her child in a pub round the corner from the office. Sure, maybe you’ll meet “just some guy” who you date for three weeks and who gives you an old Guns N' Roses T-shirt (unofficial merch) to lay your head on in place of a pillow. But it’s the principle of the thing. It’s not about the destination babes, it’s the journey.

We have to plan so much these days because we are so unbearably, pathetically skint, thanks to rent, food and utility bills soaring and wages not following suit. Because of a lack of third spaces there’s nowhere to hang out for free anymore and hosting has become more tricky, so we hardly ever see our mates. And when we do finally see them after two months, we actually want to spend time with them, not flirt with someone on the next table or at the bar. Many people will stay in for two or three weekends of the month to save their energy and money for a big club night out, festival or gig with their friends. But when you’ve spent £40 on a ticket to an event, you want to listen to the music you paid for and dance with the people you came with. Don’t get me wrong, people obviously chat to other people (I rarely do, but people do, I’m certain of it) but the death of clubs, the plummeting economy and the apps has made it harder. People are obsessed with the idea of the meet-cute, where you’ll bump into some sexy stranger in the wild and exchange numbers, but is this actually happening? 

Our lack of IRL thirst is probably the reason why TV shows like Rivals are so popular. The show, which is based on a novel by Jilly Cooper of the same name, follows four rich families in the Cotswolds in 1986. In the October issue of Vogue, Cooper, now in her late 80s, reflects on her time in the Cotswolds four decades ago: “Back then, as I remember it, everyone seemed to be partying, smoking, having long wine-fuelled lunches and masses and masses of sex ... But today, the boozy lunches have been replaced with actual working lunches and the sex with speed swiping, which has taken a lot of fun and mischief out of the world.” How bloody depressing. I for one think we could definitely do with some more fun, mischief and spontaneity in our lives (minus the infidelity), if only we could afford to get some (double entendre inferred). I’m not saying the apps are a total waste of time, and recent research shows that meeting online has overtaken meeting through friends as the most common way to find a partner. I’m just saying that no matter your success on the apps, we all have a love/hate relationship with them, which I think boils down to screen-addiction and over-reliance.

I know what you’re thinking: What can we actually do about it? We might not be able to control our outgoings but we can control what we do when we finally make it out. This year, my New Year’s resolution was to flirt with more people IRL. I can’t say I’ve really done it, but I tried. To those struggling to find a hunny in the wild, I say: Flirt with everyone. Flirt with your barista, your mates, people on the Tube. Flirt at every opportunity, flirt with the postman. Practise flirting with your housemates (actually, please do not do that). Flirt like it is the sole reason you were put on this Earth, like a modern-day Casanova in knee-high boots, armed with “guest list +1”. At this point it is an act of resistance to the forces of capitalist big tech and the economy, which together are reducing the so-called “best years of our lives” to boredom, celibacy and scrolling indoors.