POOR GIRLS
In our latest episodes we’ve been discussing the new version of masculinity in the internet popcult that may not be helping with our societal concerns about men, so much as it’s driving them into shame responses that spark aggression.
The thing we’re trying to rid the world of, elicited through trying to rid the world of it!
With all the disempowerment, awkwardness, and self-disparagement ringing through the male experience (stereotypically), a large group of them are floundering. Another portion are growing sharper teeth.
And that feeds back to impact all of us, especially those who intend to date these catches.
But the question is… if new masculinism isn’t helping us…. is new feminism? Fourth wave, post-feminism, on Instagram?
Today, let’s even the gender-compassion scales, dipping into a research paper about dating influencers vs. women and examine the question – is radical feminism (especially on the internet) improving the female-identifying experience in dating? Or is it overloading us with false red flags, contradictory information, and a higher sense of individual responsibility to manage men?
And, as you’ve probably guessed, let’s find some new empathy for women, influenced by the hands of other women on the internet, in their efforts at Dating in Dystopia.
Onward we go.
The New Experts of Online Dating: Feminism, Advice, and Harm on Instagram
Joanna Large and Natasha Mulvihill
2025
In their abstract they tell us:
Situated within the theoretical work of Giddens and others on the role of expertise in contemporary society, this article evaluates the Instagram accounts of six dating-themed influencers. We seek to understand the role and strategies of these “new experts” in presenting, evaluating, and responding to contemporary heterosexual dating harms. Our analysis is informed by the existing literature on digital feminism, gendered abuse, and conceptions of harm, but also recognizes how social media marketing strategies shapes the expertise provided. We conclude that while the emerging expert discourses around online dating seek ostensibly to advocate for women, they are contradictory, likely to contribute to social anxiety, and could risk diluting and individualizing the material reality of abuse.
Fancy words for the ongoing internet shittalking on this platform… “the attempts at helping ourselves and others may be making things worse by putting undue pressure on all of us, while missing the mark in nuance and depth of the topics being discussed, so that the information we’re receiving is not practically useful, and so we crumble under the expectation to ‘be better.’”
Let’s hop in. Starting with what’s actually quite an interesting definition of dating.
They say:
Dating can be defined as a… period that provides “an opportunity to perform, reject, and refine new roles and responsibilities, whilst negotiating future status and identity” (Langhamer, 2007, p. 173). Social changes over recent decades mean that both younger and older ages are investing more time in partner searching and/or engaging in temporary relationships (Albury, 2017; ESRC Centre for Population Change, 2020).
In 2021, it was estimated that 207 million people worldwide were using a dating app (Curry, 2021).
As compared to finding one, locking them down, and committing long-term, we’re shopping for more compatible matches.
Dating is not a risk-free activity. As with long-term relationships, short-term relationships can involve physical, emotional, or sexual abuse. Digital devices also afford new opportunities for control, harassment, stalking, and threatening behaviors, including once the relationship has formally “ended” (Caridade et al., 2019; Lu et al., 2021).
Interestingly, some analyses of dating app use by gender suggest that women may use dating apps to exert control, thereby challenging prevailing gender-power dynamics (Chan, 2018). Other work suggests that heterosexual dating apps continue to be gender-traditional spaces (MacLeod & McArthur, 2019), which women disproportionately perceive as potentially unsafe (Hanson, 2021).
Traditionally, and facilitated by concurrent media, individuals have reached out to strangers for guidance... While young people are more likely to seek help and support from “informal sources,” including friends, following experiences of dating violence (Bundock et al., 2020), the use of internet-based advice and support specifically for intimate partner abuse or dating violence is under-researched for both young people (Bundock et al., 2020) and adults (Eckstein, 2021).
And one of the things coming out of this peer-led counseling may be? Toxic feminism.
At the same time, there is a “new visibility of feminism” and “a multiplicity of different feminisms currently circulating in mainstream media culture” (Gill, 2016, p. 610). This digital feminism or “online sisterhood” (Cabalquinto & Soriano, 2020) are noted particularly for their “performative activism” (Jouët, 2018, p. 133), producing visual narratives, humor, and satire as forms (or mediums) of creative resistance (see also Vitis & Gilmour, 2017).
Digital feminism(s) and dating combine on Instagram sites where people submit screenshots of interactions with men on online dating sites who demonstrate sexually harassing and entitled behaviors (Shaw, 2016; Thompson, 2018). In other words, these sites have an entertainment, but also a didactic value, in raising awareness about gender inequality and gendered norms.
Sounds great! Accountability where there previously was none.
The problem? Social media is a business.
The marketing strategies of influencers
Sternadori (2020, p. 184; drawing also on Luke, 1996) argues that such artifacts of popular culture are likely more powerful than any formal, institutional pedagogic tools. However, López Vázquez and Rangel-Pérez (2022, p. 415) caution that “sorority and empowerment” are a functional tool to enhance the credibility and appeal of the influencer to their followers (and in turn, boost profile engagement).
In addition, Savolainen et al. (2022) suggest that such platforms effectively filter for versions of feminism which are confident, individualistic, and aesthetically appealing. This is consistent with the persuasive narrative techniques adopted by influencers to undercut sponsorship disclosures by projecting tailored and empathetic expertise (Feng et al., 2020).
Every influencer is a “brand.” And that means they’re selling you something. There is an accepted “expert vibe” on the internet. And it puts money in advice influencers’ hands.
Djafarova and Rushworth (2017) suggest that high-profile Instagram (“Instafamous”) accounts, bloggers, and YouTubers (described as “lower-scale celebrities”) are now more influential than traditional celebrities for influencing consumer decisions due to their perceived higher credibility and trustworthiness. This was particularly the case for female “lower scale” celebrities in the context of influencing young women, because of their perceived increased relatability and authenticity (Duffy & Hund, 2017).
So, there’s an inauthentic identity required for profiting in this way. For being followed.
And that inauthentic identity is one of… performative authenticity.
Evidence suggests that for successful marketing and communication, the nature of content created matters (Schouten et al., 2020); as does the perceived influencer’s personality (Casaló et al., 2018); the desirability factor the influencer holds and their “illusory friendship” with followers (Hu et al., 2020); and finally, the emotional attachments created with followers (Ki et al., 2020; Ladhari et al., 2020).
We’re being emotionally manipulated when we “follow” someone. And the content they put out is the material that does the job by convincing us they’re “just like us! But better.”
Considering the industry behind these accounts, how much should we trust what we’re being told about dating by these boss babes?
Theoretical framework: the new online experts
Anthony Giddens (1990, 1991) highlights self-identity, reflexivity, expert systems, trust, and truth claims as prominent themes of high modernity.
Reflexivity refers to the constant monitoring of social life and the organization and use of expertise to evaluate and improve it (Giddens, 1990, p. 38; 1991, p. 14). Self-identity and reflexivity conjoin in the growth of identity-based social movements that seek to expose and disrupt traditional social relations as inequitable. This can be used to describe how dating-themed influencers provide feminist-derived narratives to counsel their followers, contributing to a multipolar landscape of “expertise”…
AKA internet culture (modernity) is ruled by self-expression, observation and desire to improve life, presentation of expertise, and parasocial faith in what we’re being told, by whom. And influencers use all these things to gain and advise their audience. Creating a complex image of expert level understanding.
Something that can be difficult since, for all intents and purposes, they are NOT generally experts. They have mimicked the appearance and opinions of experts, combined with knowledge of what people want to see and hear for sales.
And so, begins the contradictory and unevidenced informational spread.
They say:
The plurality of expert voices is further complicated by the market logic of social media platforms, where increased attention means increased sponsorship income. Perceived expert knowledge is therefore a valuable commodity (Smith, 2022).
It is within these competitive and profit-linked contexts that rival truth claims are undermined (see Holmberg, 2015 for a case study example). Even the use of misinformation online (see Lavorgna & Di Ronco, 2020) is itself muddied by the assertion that alternative voices are “just as valid—if not even more valid”—as those of experts (Massa, 2020, p. 70).
What these influencers say may contradict all evidence and traditional expertise… which, counterintuitively, convinces more people that they are correct, for having a contrasting opinion.
(One of the first mindfucks we’ll encounter in this paper.)
Social media invests particular value in the accessibility of “lived experience expertise” that is celebrated in this space for its “authenticity” (Kreling et al., 2022).
… we focus in this article on dating-themed Instagram influencers whose content could be described as both entertaining and didactic. Our research aim is to understand the role and strategies of these “new experts” in presenting, evaluating, and responding to contemporary (heterosexual) dating harms. Specifically, we ask:
1.Which types of online dating harms are identified by dating influencers?
2.How do influencers seek to inform their audiences about these forms of harm?
3.How might we characterize overall the “expertise” offered by dating influencers?
And my point 4: how might all of this ultimately enact harm on women?
Method and ethics
We examined six high-profile Instagram accounts and their static main “feed” posts between 1 and 31 December 2022. Our sampling strategy focused on identifying accounts that were: highly subscribed; had “public” privacy settings; focused explicitly on online dating; and had a predominantly heterosexual dating focus, discussing women’s experiences of meeting men on dating apps.
The final six accounts were purposively selected as broadly representative examples of three types: (1) feminist educational and reviewing profiles (“Dating Education” category); (2) dating advice and coaching (“Dating Advice” category), and (3) screenshots of dating app conversations with little or no account holder commentary (“Dating Nightmares” category).
Our initial beliefs (Phase 1) draw on the respective interests and expertise of the authors: harm, consumption, and leisure; gender, coercive control, and violence. In Phase 2, we collected descriptive data about each post - number of likes, number of comments, and type of post (such as video/static images). We also developed categories—Dating Education, Dating Advice, and Dating Nightmares.
In the following sections, we refer to social media influencers variously as “Instagram influencers,” “Instagram authors,” or “content creators.” We refer to those who engage with the sites by reading or commenting on content as “followers,” even though they may not formally subscribe to an account.
So that’s the study setup, now let’s see what they found.
Analysis and discussion
Which types of online dating harms are identified by dating influencers?
Let’s talk about Red Flags and Settling Too Low.
We’re going to read straight through this and then discuss the excerpt at the end.
Potential harms as “red flags.”
The first (risk) is the risk of inappropriate or unwanted behaviors, collectively referred to as “red flags.” This is most commonly found in the “Dating Education” and “Dating Nightmares” account categories.
“Red flag” is a warning term which has become part of contemporary discourse to describe relationship behaviors which signal abuse, or potential for abuse. In the Instagram accounts analyzed, “red flag” is sometimes employed in line with this more classic understanding of controlling and sexist behaviors. For example,
When I was young and stupid I was actually highly attracted to red flags. [. . .] If a man asked me my body count I’d say [one], whilst wholeheartedly agreeing that a low body count is really important for women. [DA4, 19/12/22]
While there is no definitive definition or source, “red flags” are popularly understood to relate to coercive and controlling behaviors (see Red Flag Campaign, n.d.). These could include, for example: intense jealousy and monitoring of a partner’s behavior, or being verbally offensive and demeaning.
However, some of the behaviors identified within our Instagram dataset appear to be more ambivalent (hence perhaps the term “pink flag” used by some): requesting repeated nude pictures, telling someone in pre-date exchanges to “chill out,” or being unwilling to talk about one’s children are examples given. These might indicate a time-waster, flippancy, or guardedness, but they do not necessarily indicate an abuser.
Indeed, isolating individual behaviors as potential indicators in this way may be unhelpful, because coercive control is best understood as an ongoing experience characterized by multiple points of control, which can be hard to identify from a single behavior.
In addition, what are now termed “red flag” behaviors were developed in the context of active relationships, and they may lose context and meaning when imported into the pre-relationship phase.
Second, the behaviors being discussed in our Instagram dataset are sometimes conflated with and indistinguishable from discourses of stereotypical masculinity. For example, a common reference in the dataset is that many men are instrumental (though not necessarily predatory) on the dating scene: they are positioned as wanting sex, leisure time, and no commitment.
Conventionally masculine traits can be sexist and unwanted in a partner. But by focusing unduly on these, the effect is to be silent about still more concerning conduct—sexual coercion or emotional threats, for example.
Finally, it has been well documented by Renehan et al. (2023) that the red flag discourse tends to responsibilize women. This is consistent with the late modern trend to individualize and manage risk (Beck, 1992; Giddens, 1999) rather than position harm as a collective responsibility. After reflecting on their own experience of unhealthy relationships, this content creator concludes that
“I was lost, and so I attracted and accepted lost men” [DA4, 19/12/2022].
In a later post, a related commentary is worth quoting at length:
“If looking back at your past lovers is like looking at a graph of your own mental health decline then maybe it’s not them, it’s you. I mean, it’s definitely them too—they do need an intervention. But the part we need to work on is why we have such terrible taste in the first place…. This does not mean that you are at fault for any abuse or ill treatment you may have suffered, you cannot choose abuse. But you are responsible for your own future happiness, and you will not find that in the arms of a man who is a carbon copy of all your exes. Stop repeating patterns. Fix yourself and break the chain. [DA4, 22/12/2022]”
This appeal to women to self-reflect and self-educate to defend themselves against potentially harmful partners is seductive because it is well intentioned and meant to be empowering. It is exactly consistent with the role of Instagram experts in providing confiding, sisterly advice. It has a “tough love” tone and binds followers into a putative “inside track” on dating realities and harms (see, for example, Winch, 2012, on “the girlfriend gaze”).
However, many abusive perpetrators engage in something akin to a “grooming process” (Cairns, 2020; Duron et al., 2021) in the early stages of a relationship with their victim. Problematic behaviors may be subtle or concealed during the dating and pre-commitment phase, and they may emerge or intensify at later transition points (after moving in together, during pregnancy, or when trying to leave the relationship).
In addition, even assuming the abusive behaviors are overt, being a victim of abuse is different from describing it abstractly. For these reasons, structuring dating advice around simply “being in the know” about red flags is problematic.
Okay, so here they describe:
Masculinity itself is a red flag
Being male, itself, is the wrong move according to dating influencers. Hence our short series on male compassion! They cannot win – they cannot “male, properly,” partially due to being men in the first place. Please listen to the bonus from last week for more discussion of all the ways men don’t have many “right” moves they can make. Because being masculine, itself, is viewed as dangerous. And this next point:
Red flags are removed from context
Also in that bonus episode we discussed how red flags without deeper context make everything a red flag. If a thing happens to you several times while dating, you might develop a mental shortcut – a heuristic – linking behavior A with outcome B. However, that’s what tends to happen IN YOUR LIFE, BASED ON YOUR PROGRAMMING, WITH THE TYPE OF PERSON YOU’RE ATTRACTED TO, AT CERTAIN STAGES IN THAT ENGAGEMENT. A leads to B. To remove all that detail and say “people who use this word, wear this color, drive this car… are abusive,” is not accurate, ubiquitous, or therefore helpful to an audience. And furthermore, misses the mark:
Red flags miss the complexity of coercive control structure
In most cases, as they stated, a skilled abuser isn’t going to send red flags shooting into the air, especially during the early dating phase. They’re going to slowly and carefully roll out coercive abuse that doesn’t appear to be coercive abuse, because that is the nature of coercive abuse. These snappy posts don’t capture that experience. They can’t. That’s the point. Covert abuse is covert. If the other party is any good at it, it’s not going to produce red flags.
And lastly:
Red flags put the responsibility on women
Spreading all this (inaccurate and not very useful) knowledge puts the pressure on women to use this inaccurate and not very useful knowledge to obtain the best relationship possible. And there’s a perception that there’s no reason why they “shouldn’t” produce that healthy relationship end result, since the red flag info is available.
So we’re all expected to be hypervigilantly on the lookout for red flags and to use those red flags for protection… with the red flags being intrinsically flawed indicators.
And if we DO end up in an abusive relationship? It’s our fault that we didn’t read the signals right.
We actually can’t win. We’re educated incorrectly. And then shit on for using that education. By being told we didn’t.
One might say women are gaslighting and blame shifting other women, in idolization of red flags. When, in fact, they’re better used for entertainment than education or advisement.
And the other thing that’s warned about on Instagram?
Settling too low
The second harm—or rather, caution—identified within our dataset is the risk of “settling” for a relationship which does not provide the emotional and material rewards that followers should expect. In the “Dating Education” and “Dating Nightmares” categories, there is a repeated mantra of “raising the bar.”
Quote
This book has given me the confidence and confirmation that my standards and expectations aren’t too high, and that there’s nothing wrong with knowing what I want from dating apps and the boundaries I set for interactions on said apps. [DA3, 6/12/2022]
Another user adds,
Even if you’re not on dating apps, keep it [the book] handy to weed through the jungle of rubbish! [DA3, 6/12/2022]
This second quote captures well the imagined landscape of online dating into which female Instagram authors are writing. The online dating world is presented as crowded with unsuitable men, who are either unworthy or—as per the red flag discourse above—potentially abusive. This in turn enables authors to underline the need for their expertise, to support people in navigating this fraught space.
5 mindsets of a high value woman. #“I determine my own value” mindset. # “I put myself first” mindset. # “No fear of rejection” mindset. #”I am my primary source of security and happiness” mindset. #“I deserve everything I ask for” mindset. [DA2, 3/12/2022]
While the overall message of “don’t settle for less” is similar, here it is predicated on a woman-reverent and entitled version of femininity.
Finally, the unspoken implication of “don’t settle” is “because you’re worth it.”
This affirmative advertising slogan is consistent with neoliberal marketing and consumerist forms of feminism (Gill and Kanai, 2019). It reinforces the individualized subject (Giddens, 1991) and makes followers feel “exclusive,” in both senses of the word, which potentially enhances and personalizes profile engagement.
The caution against “settling” may also be driving the expanding definitions of “red flag” (including the variant, “pink flag”). In other words, it is blurring the boundaries between behavior that is abusive and behavior that demonstrates insufficient empathy, openness, attention, or money spent.
So, while being sold tips and tricks for netting the man that one deserves and desires long-term, we’re actually being sold…..
Our own self-esteem! Being told that “we’re special” and “we’re worth more” as a way to ingratiate the follower to the influencer. They make you feel good and lift you up, so you develop fond, devotional, feelings towards them – mistaking them as a parent or friend or therapist - and return for more of their content / spread more of their content.
One might call them liars! Grifters! Charlatans! People who know how to make you feel good, so you associate feeling good with them, so you keep coming back even as returns are further and further limited. As their advice, as we’re about to hear, often becomes self-contradictory.
A consumerist version of feminism and female empowerment, indeed. As required by the sponsors of their posts.
And what’s the marketing hook? Or, specifically, which two were found in this study?
How do influencers seek to inform their audiences about these forms of harm?
Performative skewering
Drawing on humor and the visual-textual possibilities of Instagram, content creators commonly use posts or videos by men on online dating sites to expose their misogyny, foolishness, or hubris—a technique we term “performative skewering.” Notably, the skewer tends to land as a punchline or sign-off comment.
Post themes include men who are presented as self-preoccupied. In the related sugar dating context, this is linked also to age, wealth, and privilege. For example, after a rambling description of himself, the potential sugar daddy finishes:
I’m procrastinating right now by the way . . . texting instead of seeing my next office patient [laughing face emoji]. I could go on. But I think that’s a start. I annoy myself quite a bit [laughing face emoji]
[Post caption: He’s a neurosurgeon]. [DA5, 1/12/2022]
I sat with this for a while trying to understand the humor of the punchline. A fun shaming about the expected behavior of a highly educated doctor, I guess. Wouldn’t call it comedic gold. But it moves sales.
Some may turn performative skewering into merchandise, for example:
One time this angry internet man called me a “hysterical c*ck-fearing shrew” . . . So I put it on a t-shirt. Link in my bio bitches! If you want a mug in time for Christmas you need to order it BY TOMORROW. [DA3, 9/12/2022]
This could be seen as a symbolic counter to the income generated by misogynistic content online, as detailed in the report “Monetising Misogyny” (#ShePersisted, 2023). But also, paradoxically, content creators may build their brand around, and benefit financially from, the very object of their critique.
In this way, feminism is reworked and leveraged to boost engagement and appeal with followers, and thereby income.
So dating influencers use humor at the expense of (usually) men to attract, entertain, and build their brand. It’s done in the name of female empowerment – turning the tables on the other gender.
And also…. It generates followers and income. Using lady-to-lady commiseration as a means of profit building.
How else, besides online shaming, do dating experts spread their message?
Using evidence
The second way in which content creators seek to inform is through drawing on independent sources of authority. For example, responding to an online claim that feminist women have “wounded” relationships with their father, the content creator draws on statistics from the United Nations, World Health Organization, European Institute for Gender Inequality, and a peer-reviewed academic paper to rebut the assertion [DA4, 20/12/2022].
By drawing on feminist ideas (and commonly combined with the “performative skewering” described above), the “Dating Nightmares” and “Dating Education” accounts position themselves as critical, humorous, and savvy about how prevailing gender relations operate in contemporary dating.
Here comes the kicker…
By implication, the follower is brought into this “knowing circle.”
Through spreading education, influencers, again, boost the esteem of the follower. They now feel smarter and more self-assured in their prior beliefs and experiences – more legitimate and “above the dating opponents” – by having citable sources.
Of course, not everything is research based. There are other forms of advice being doled out, like strategies for successful dating:
Elsewhere, followers are encouraged to share something personal and talk with passion about their interests. It could be argued that emotional vulnerability is instrumentalized here as a dating strategy: individuals become akin to entrepreneurs, metrifying their dating interactions.
Yet it is not clear that authentic connection can be successfully “coached.” Indeed, over-sharing and self-preoccupation could ironically invoke the red flags identified earlier. The content creator does acknowledge this risk toward the end of the post.
They’re saying the very thing that influencers are instructing others to “watch out for” is also what they’re encouraging followers to do.
“Be authentic, here’s how!” is ironically going to produce over-the-top and inauthentic results. Those results? Would be the red flags that the same influencer is telling followers to be wary of.
So, again, is the point of telling the crowd “be yourself, here’s how” to provide helpful advice? Or to earn positive regard (follows, shares, comments, and sponsorship deals) from the audience because they’re being encouraged to do what they already want to do?
This section is summed up beautifully by the authors when they say:
The Dating Advice accounts therefore tend rather to draw on market research, current trends, and popular science/popular psychology, which reflects their branding as lifestyle and consumerist-oriented. This may be useful for influencers in attracting sponsorship income but can lead to internal contradictions in the expertise offered over time.
My words: Suggesting it’s not about advice integrity. It’s about advice consumption. In the online dating expert game aimed at earning sponsorship.
How might we characterize overall the “expertise” offered by dating influencers
Popular feminism
Discussion of gender-stereotypical behaviors dominate the “Dating Education” and “Dating Nightmares” accounts. This is consistent with the notion of a “fourth wave” of feminism, particularly on social media, from the 2010s. Instagram authors are often writing directly at the interface, creatively and humorously teaching their followers to identify and respond to sexism and risks in online dating (Jouët, 2018, p. 133; Vitis & Gilmour, 2017). Their confiding tone invokes a sense of online sisterhood (Cabalquinto & Soriano, 2020), disembedding traditional kinship sources of support (Giddens, 1990).
However, feminism is a plural concept. One of the accounts within the “Dating Advice” category offers a more consumerist and traditional notion of femininity. For example:
#Allow yourself to be led.—When you allow a man to lead you, it gives him space to show his care and provide you with what you need. [DA2, 12/12/2022]
Sometimes labeled “lipstick feminism” or “choice feminism,” this is an approach to empowerment informed by aesthetics and consumerism (Gurrieri & Drenten, 2021).
The “#soft girl” appears to be a related post-feminist concept, describing a woman who is active in demanding her rights, but passive in relation to finances and work (Anestad Nilsson, 2024), and has some overlap with the “#StayAtHomeGirlfriends” (Tirocchi & Taddeo, 2024). Both profiles emerged on TikTok through 2022–2024.
I think many of us can see why this would be an attractive and easily consumed message. “Take a load off girl, you’ve done enough, let him show up in his masculine glory and give care, you just be soft and pretty.”
Yeah, sure, in this workcamp economy that sounds great… also spreads a somewhat disempowering and anti-feminist message of waiting for prince charming to nurse you, that’s somehow obfuscated behind assertions of gender rights and roles.
Post-feminism is a funny way to describe it. I guess being a pain in the ass, demanding what you deserve, is the feminist part. Then expecting the man to listen and provide for all your needs is the return to traditional gender dynamics that makes it “post.”
They also say:
Individual womanhood is promoted, though not necessarily collective sisterhood:
Signs of a truly feminine woman. [. . .] #She is inspired by other women, but always stays true to herself. [DA2, 18/12/2022]
So in this messaging encouraging positive returns to femininity, we’re reminded… this is still a you-venture, not an us-venture. This isn’t about the collective or improving female experiences on earth. It’s about you becoming your realest self.
Again, a highly consumable message as it promotes individualism that takes account of no one but the individual and their right to be soft and cozy.
Alternatively, the prevailing dating message is “be the opposite of soft and cozy – be the boss bitch who runs their dating life like a business – fire that guy at the first offense - date like a man – don’t let your feelings get the best of you,” and so on.
While empowering, those advisements probably seem less attractive in the 2020s than they did in the 2010s, as life has gotten much harder and boss-bitchdom has taken a backseat since we all learned about MLMs.
I can understand why the dating zeitgeist has profited from turning the other direction and instructing women to let men do the heavy lifting.
Especially because dating influencer accounts are still littered with this source of feminine pressure:
Hyper reflexivity
What is notable in reviewing the expertise offered by online dating advice sites is the requirement for constant self-scrutiny: whether through the confessional monologues of content creators or the etiquette guidance and analysis they offer to followers.
For example, in a long and confessional post, this Instagram author meditates on how being well-versed in “red flags” has been important, but has also made them cautious about all relationships:
. . . the joy of knowing that I’m avoiding bad relationships can sometimes be shaken by the thought that I’m basically now avoiding all relationships because so many fucking men are waving red flags. Occasionally I wonder if I should just ignore the red flags and see what happens, feel a bit of anxiety, experience a bit of chaos, feel some emotions again. (DA4, 22/12/2022)
In other words: too bad I have to be so self-accountable that I can’t allow anything to happen that might come with challenges or negative consequences. I’m so self-managing when it comes to avoiding “red flags” that I can’t allow myself to live anymore. To feel anymore.
My words: because I’ve been told by these accounts that it’s the wrong thing to do. It makes me weak to have imperfect experiences that I could have avoided.
Perhaps this is the darkest part of online dating advice. It creates an over-engagement with reality and self-accountability. Because the information is out there, we’re now expected to hold ourselves to perfectionistic standards. We have “no excuse” to experience dramatic or dangerous relationship dynamics. We “should” be able to detect and avoid it all before it even happens.
Hyper reflexivity, is not helping the individual to have a better dating experience. And they might not permit themselves to have ANY. Relatable.
Red flags do not appear to help. They appear to flood us with data that we then struggle to integrate and hold ourselves to.
They say:
While behavior guides and sources of conflicting expertise are not a new phenomenon, three contemporary factors facilitate this hyper reflexivity and, we would argue, associated high anxiety.
First, changing technology means the volume of content has increased exponentially.
As in, the number of things to be on the lookout for, and instruction about the “right way to respond,” has increased exponentially.
Second, social guidance is increasingly commodified, with books, websites, and social media accounts competing to offer advice on topics such as dating, parenting, or dieting (S. A. Baker & Rojek, 2020). Marketing money may move toward popular emerging ideas, creating echo chambers, or support multiple opposing ideas, leading to a complex and overwhelming amount of circulating information. This can have particular implications for young women who, Gill (2023) argues, contend with competing demands to be “perfect” yet also “authentic” (Gill, 2023).
Third, if users are engaging individually, and disintermediated from peers and family, it can be difficult to interpret and tailor online advice and avoiding an anxiety spiral: what Bawden and Robinson (2009) perceptively termed “the dark side of information.”
So, because we’re so inundated with information, that information often conflicting, and we’re detached from close social companions who actually KNOW US to help sort through what’s relevant… we can get lost in the information and unable to make helpful moves because of the contradicting and overwhelming pile. Causing increased anxiety, emotional suppression, and isolation.
The dark side of information.
And they say:
Without large-scale research, it is difficult to gauge to what extent hyper-reflexivity binds followers in—by mirroring their own doubts and fears—or facilitates a restless search onwards for new experts who provide the advice they want to hear.
If the information isn’t fitting or hitting in the right emotional place at that moment? Find a new influencer to follow. Someone will always be available and willing to tell you what you’re hoping to hear, in exchange for turning your attention into a commodity for their financial gain.
And while I think that about sums it up, let’s jump into their:
Conclusion
Our original analysis shows that, depending on their orientation (Dating Advice, Dating Education, Dating Nightmares), Instagram content creators use a combination of comedic, confessional, and affirmative narratives to construct and elucidate the harms of online dating for their followers.
These accounts draw on feminist rhetoric but tend to stress individual choice and responsibility rather than collective resistance to patriarchy (see Budgeon, 2015; Giddens, 1991).
It could be argued that the entrance of these new experts via social media cuts through knowledge monopoly. It overcomes the potential biases, mixed motives, and misconceptions of those in our immediate circle.
However, we agree with Duffy and Hund (2015, p. 9) that Instagram culture tends to “construct women as feminine subjectivities, emotional laborers, and above all, consumers.” We suggest that the hyper-reflexive content—often employed to promote intimacy and build the brand—is consistent with wider cultural trends but may raise social anxiety about dating.
Indeed, dating advice accounts are paradoxically predicated on the need for reassurance and the anathema of popular misogyny. In this way, they can perpetuate epistemic injustice and reify prevailing gender-power relations.
Specifically, we suggest that the discourse of “red flags,” common to online dating advice, tends to dilute and individualize the material reality of sexual, physical, economic, or psychological abuse. It may also blur the line between abuse and inadequate efforts by a potential partner to demonstrate sufficient empathy, attention or financial largesse.
We agree that efforts at consciousness-raising and education are necessary, but it is important also to recognize that “knowing” is not enough: individuals can become victims of intimate partner and dating abuse irrespective of their intelligence or their technical knowledge of abuse.
Finally, it is notable that young women are required to shoulder this anxiety—to consider how best they ought, individually, to manage men.
In this way, content creators and their followers construct and participate in an ecosystem of ostensibly empowering dating advice, yet all remain subject to the structuring forces of income-generation and gender expectations.
And with that, lettuce
WRAP
So does pop-dating advice help?
It panders for follows, for income generation, with false empathy, authenticity encouragement that an audience eats up, and examples of relatability to foster a fake sense of friendship.
It speaks contradictory, overwhelming, messages. Influencers contradict each other, creating content that sells out of disagreements. Influencers contradict societal movements like feminism, creating content out of selling both messages of taking charge AND sitting down and letting men work. And eventually influencers contradict themselves, creating content that sells but lacks integrity or cohesion with formerly stated lessons. So what are you supposed to do? Depends on your emotional state – you’ll find information that confirms what you’re looking to hear.
It provides inaccurate information, often about red flags. Because removed from context, snappy warning signs don’t mean much. Also, the nature of coercive abuse, itself, is that it’s personalized to the individual and gradually building to avoid detection – potentially rendering all the red flag talk ironically useless.
Online dating influence also overwhelms individuals with data and imparts them with the responsibility of using all that information to save themselves. Because the knowledge is there, it should be leveraged to fully eradicate mistakes by the informed party. (An impossible goal when we’re talking about dynamics between two people.) Thereby creating less self-confident, more perfectionistic, and more anxious individuals who might be inspired to protectively withdraw from all the landmines instead of experiencing dating.
I mean, why even bother, with all these red flags and deplorable men on the market, since engaging with them would reflect negatively on YOU? The individual who is “doing it wrong.”
And I think that’s the worst part of it all.
Popular online dating advice has turned the societal issue of poorly behaving men into the responsibility of women. But rather than blaming their mothers, we now blame the women who are modernly “stupid” or “naïve” or “poorly informed” enough for having feelings for them.
With all the dating and narcissist avoidance advice floating around out there, we state and commonly believe, collectively, that they “should” know better.
Creating a shame and blame trap for women, for daring to even try.
Which women are privy to, having seen it already on the influencer dating accounts.
Which might explain why so many of us… are not daring to try. And have instead settled for loveless lives where we are both hard and soft for ourselves – doing double duty playing the man and the woman in our own lives - to allow us to be the women, in public, that the internet says we should be.
So maybe righteous, role-examining, red-flag revealing, online sisterhood isn’t all it’s cracked up to be when we’re approaching the complicated and highly nuanced experience of interpersonal relating.
Something to keep in mind as you keep up with anti-consumerism, anti-influencer-manipulated, attempts at:
Dating
In
Dystopia.
And I’ll talk to you soon.