Lifestyle
Ode to a Gen-Z Situationship
I met Jacob at an overcrowded Abba-themed dance night. He was wearing a faux-fur head wrap. He seemed so young. I was 33. Still, I thought he was cute. When we locked eyes on the smoking patio, I thought the feeling was mutual.
We got to chatting. Jacob said he worked “in music,” which I took to mean he sometimes played the guitar. He asked what I did, and I brushed off the question. I didn’t feel like talking about work.
A week earlier, my ex had moved out of our apartment. After six years together, he said, “Anna, I don’t think this is working.” And just like that, we were over. There were plenty of reasons. We argued too much, had different timelines for children. And then there was the sex — or lack thereof.
Couples therapy helped with the arguing but not the intimacy. When he finally handed me his key, I sat in my half-empty apartment and cried.
Now, with Jacob, I thought about how most of my friends were starting families and buying houses. And here I was at Abba Night, drinking a vodka soda.
He asked for my number. I gave it to him, not expecting much.
The next day, he asked if I wanted to get a drink. We met for margaritas. I was early. I realized that I barely remembered his face. All I knew was that he seemed young. As I waited at the bar, I wondered just how young. Finally, he appeared, looking like he was dressed for Coachella — baggy cargo pants and chunky, layered necklaces. I could barely meet his gaze.
He was 24, almost a decade younger. I was embarrassed, but Jacob shrugged.
“Age doesn’t matter,” he said.
Which of course, wasn’t true.
He told me he was a rapper and that his tracks had done well on Spotify. I was surprised. Impressed, even. He said a manager was interested, but he’d have to fork over a huge chunk of his profits.
I started to give him advice — as a TV writer, I had experience with predatory contracts. Then I stopped myself. Did I sound like his mother? We talked more. We didn’t have much in common, but I wasn’t ready to give up. When we finished our margaritas, I suggested a second bar.
The next place was swanky. The bartender gave me a funny look. Was he judging me? Maybe nine-and-a-half years wasn’t that much, but I’d never been on this side of an age gap. In my early 20s, I had dated a handful of older men. At the time, I found their age alluring, but hindsight had made me skeptical of their attraction. I once heard that adult brains aren’t fully developed until the age of 25. Was my young self simply easier to manipulate?
Sitting with Jacob, I wondered if now I was the creepy older man. I ordered myself an orange wine and he blinked. “What’s that?” he asked.
I explained it had something to do with the grape skins. He nodded blankly, then he asked what I was working on. I told him about my horror script about a girl who loses her mind in the woods. He listened, eyes wide. He told me it sounded “like a real movie.” I knew he meant it as a compliment.
Jacob was a gentle lover, if a bit nervous. He lingered in my living room for an hour before kissing me. I didn’t mind. He was a good kisser. And when he ran his fingers along my arm, the age gap disappeared. We were just two people on a fitted sheet, trying to feel less alone. For once, sex felt effortless.
On our second date, Jacob showed me his music. It was chaotic and loud. Even his voice — deep and full of swagger — felt unfamiliar. I didn’t understand it.
On our third date, lying naked in bed, I told Jacob I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I explained that I was emotionally unavailable because of my breakup. He said that was OK. Perfect, in fact. Because he wanted to focus on his music, not love. We agreed to keep things casual.
“Casual” meant seeing each other once a week. He always offered to pay, but usually I grabbed the check. I knew my TV writer salary exceeded his Spotify profits. He lived in a cramped studio apartment and slept on a futon. I had slept there once, but my back hurt so much from the flimsy cushions that I vowed never to do it again.
Two months in, we went clubbing with his friends in a sweaty basement bar where everyone seemed younger than me. I was dressed in high-waisted Zara jeans and a tank top I’d bought in 2017. The other women wore low-slung pants with tiny crop tops, oozing the kind of confidence you feel when you’re still on your parents’ health insurance.
One vented to me about her on-again-off-again boyfriend. I suggested couples therapy. She looked at me like I had told her to eat a shoe.
The next morning, I peered into my bathroom mirror, hyper-aware of the wrinkles on my forehead. I had turned 30 in the first year of Covid. Prepandemic, I didn’t remember ever having wrinkles. Post-pandemic, my face seemed centuries older.
After three months, I found myself falling for Jacob. On Valentine’s Day, I took him to my favorite sushi restaurant. Afterward, in bed, I told him how I felt. I said I didn’t need a serious relationship, but I wanted to take things to the next level. Maybe a weekend trip?
He grew quiet. “Maybe,” he said.
During our next date, Jacob dumped me. We had just ordered our entrees when he dropped the bomb, saying, “I think we should roll things back romantically.”
I didn’t get it. Was this about the weekend trip? He said it was everything. I never understood his jokes. We had different interests. And hadn’t we agreed to keep things casual? Didn’t I notice that when I told him I was falling for him, he never said it back?
The waiter returned with our entrees — salad for me, and a big bowl of mac and cheese for Jacob. Waiting for the bill, I wanted to cry, but I refused. It was one thing to date a 24-year-old in a faux-fur head wrap; it was quite another to get dumped by one.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. At 3 a.m., I opened Spotify and clicked Jacob’s first track. I listened over and over until the music no longer confused me. What had initially sounded chaotic now seemed urgent and driving.
I searched Spotify for similar artists. It was as if dating Jacob had opened my eyes to the fact that there was a new generation of people creating art, and it was worth trying to understand. Obvious, maybe, but I’d missed it.
Jacob and I had only dated a few months and barely scratched the surface of our emotions. We were, by all accounts, a “situationship.” And I had spent most of it focused on myself. Because I paid for things, I chose what we did, what we ate. And it wasn’t just that. He seemed endlessly impressed by my writing career. He made me feel like I had things figured out. But I hadn’t considered how it all made him feel. That maybe the constant focus on my life made him feel small and unmoored.
A month later, I willed myself onto the dating apps. When I met Jacob, I was reeling from heartbreak. But things had changed, and I had to admit that sex with anyone would now, inevitably, lead to feelings.
I soon matched with a guy named Lucas. He was 45, with eye wrinkles and gray hair in his beard. On our second date, he took me to a fancy restaurant and ordered the orange wine. He had just bought a house in Encino and redone the floors. After our fourth date, he suggested a weekend trip. Maybe Santa Barbara?
I liked Lucas, but what was I doing flinging myself so far across the age spectrum? Lucas wanted something serious. Was I ready for that? I told my therapist I was thinking of breaking it off. She asked why. I said, “Because he’s old!”
She laughed. “If you like him, that’s all that matters.”
I said yes to Santa Barbara.
A year after my breakup with Jacob, he texted me. He was now 25, meaning his brain had officially finished developing. When he asked if I would like to meet up, I was shocked. Did he finally realize that he couldn’t live without me? He clarified that he still didn’t want anything serious, but would I be interested in a no-strings hookup?
I politely declined. Lucas and I had plans.
Lifestyle
Chloe Kim’s protégé foiled her Olympic three-peat dreams. She’s celebrating anyway
Chloe Kim (L), Gaon Choi (C) and Mitsuki Ono celebrate with their medals after the women’s snowboard halfpipe event in Livigno, Italy on Thursday.
Cameron Spencer/Getty Images
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Cameron Spencer/Getty Images
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MILAN — U.S. snowboarder Chloe Kim’s quest for a historic Olympic halfpipe three-peat was foiled by none other than her teenage protégé.

Kim took home silver, after 17-year-old Gaon Choi of South Korea rebounded from a dramatic crash to overtake her in the final run.
“It’s the kind of story you only see in dreams, so I’m incredibly happy it happened today,” Choi said afterward.
Kim, 25, was within arm’s reach of becoming the first halfpipe snowboarder to win three consecutive Olympic golds. Despite a last-minute shoulder injury, she cruised easily through Wednesday’s qualifiers, which were actually her first competition of the season.
And she was looking like a lock through much of Thursday’s final — under a light nighttime snowfall in Livigno — which hinged on the best of three runs.
Kim’s strong first showing gave her 88 points and an early lead, which she held for the majority of the competition as many other contenders — including her U.S. teammates Bea Kim and Maddy Mastro — fell on one or more of their runs.
A big crash nearly ended Choi’s night early, but after a medical exam she returned to the halfpipe slope for two more runs.
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Gregory Bull/AP
Choi also took a heavy fall on her opening run, needing a concussion check. She almost missed her second turn, only to fall again. But an impressive third run propelled her to the top of the leaderboard, with 90.25 points.
“It wasn’t so much about having huge resolve,” she said later. “I just kept thinking about the technique I was originally doing.”

Then all eyes were on Kim, the last rider of the night, with a chance to retake the lead. But she fell on her cab double cork 1080, a trick she had landed cleanly in previous runs, which stuck her with her original score. Choi and her team broke down in happy sobs and cheers immediately.
As Choi wiped her eyes, a beaming Kim greeted her at the photo finish with a warm hug. As they lined up alongside bronze medalist Mitsuki Ono of Japan, Kim stood to Choi’s side and pointed at her excitedly.
“I’ve known [Choi] since she was little, and it means a lot to see that I’ve inspired the next generation and they’re now out here killing it,” Kim said afterward.
Choi is the same age Kim was in 2018 when she became the youngest woman to win an Olympic snowboard medal.
The two have known each other for nearly a decade, a bond that began when Choi’s father struck up a friendship with Kim’s dad — who emigrated from South Korea to the U.S. — in the lead-up to the 2018 Winter Olympics in Pyeongchang.
Kim (R) gave Choi (L) a warm reception after the last run of the night.
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Patrick Smith/Getty Images Europe
“Chloe’s dad did a lot of mentoring to my dad,” Choi said after winning the first World Cup she entered in 2023, at age 14. “I didn’t know much because I was young, but Chloe’s dad gave my dad a lot of advice. It made me who I am today.”
Kim and her dad helped bring Choi to the U.S. to train with at California’s Mammoth Mountain, and maintained a supportive relationship. Kim spoke highly of Choi at an earlier press conference, calling it a “full-circle moment” and saying she sees “a mirror reflection of myself and my family.”

“We’re seeing a big shift to Asians being dominant in snow sports,” she added. “I’ve had aunts telling me that I shouldn’t snowboard, get a real career, focus on school. It’s cool to see that shift happening.”
Choi’s victory makes her the first female Korean athlete to win a medal in snow sports. This is also South Korea’s first snowboard gold.
“I want to introduce this sport more to my country through my performance at this Olympics,” Choi told Olympics.com before the Games. “I also believe that enjoying the Games is just as important as achieving good results.”
Lifestyle
Think online dating is a ‘numbers game’? You’re playing it all wrong, says this researcher
According to relationship scientist Paul Eastwick, online dating is a market where there are dramatic winners and losers. “I think our modern existence happens to pull from modes of interaction that really amp up the importance of mate value,” Eastwick said. “But it does not have to be this way, and for a long time, it was not this way.”
Shelf Help is a wellness column where we interview researchers, thinkers and writers about their latest books — all with the aim of learning how to live a more complete life.
This is the genesis of Eastwick’s decades-long research about how people initiate and maintain close relationships. His new book “Bonded by Evolution: The New Science of Love and Connection” argues against evolutionary psychology’s philosophy of dating and relationships — debunking ideas like money matters most to women, looks matter most to men and everyone has an inherent objective “mate value.” In his work, the University of California Davis psychology professor offers a dating and relationships alternative in which compatibility trumps all.
Since the dawn of his career, Eastwick has had more than one bone to pick with evolutionary psychology.
The theoretical approach, which studies human behavior, cognition and emotions as products of natural selection, depicts relationship formation as sales-like, highly gendered and strategy-based. That model, which Eastwick calls the “EvoScript,” has never squared with his view of close relationships.
The researcher has long viewed the EvoScript as outdated and exaggerated if not completely incorrect. But it was only a few years ago, when online communities of so-called incels started latching onto evolutionary psychology’s story of close relationships that he began to see the EvoScript as dangerous.
“It was upon realizing that there’s this fun house mirror version of [evolutionary] psych out there that I was like, I think it’s time,” Eastwick said. “There was a wake-up call for me that, we need a scientific book out there that’s going to bring the most contemporary science to people.”
In his work, Eastwick argues that desirability is subjective and unpredictable — and that all anyone really wants is a secure attachment bond that sustains them through good and bad seasons.
The Times talked to Eastwick about how to reimagine the dating “numbers game,” tips for better dates and why men and women ultimately want the same thing.
This interview has been condensed and edited for clarity.
“Bonded by Evolution” author Paul Eastwick.
(Alison Ledgerwood)
You write in your book that “online dating can bring the worst parts of dating to the fore by exaggerating gender differences and making you feel like a clearance item at the bottom of the bin.” What are the long-term and short-term psychological effects of that on people as they go through their dating lives?
“It makes dating feel a little bit like a job, like you’re making sales pitches, and you can set your sights high, but ultimately you’re going to have to settle. It makes the whole thing feel like you’re trying to get a deal, and I just think these are bad metaphors, especially if we want to be happy in the long run. But there is a slow burn approach that feels more like finding connection, opening oneself up, spending time getting to know other people sometimes just for the sake of getting to know other people. Part of what I want to do in the book is remind people that there are other ways — and those other ways also happen to be more democratic, for lack of a better word there — that pull for more idiosyncrasy and give more people a chance to find partners that will really appeal to them.
If you’re trying to tackle the EvoScript, as you call it, what is your thesis about dating?
My thesis is that, if we want to think about the nature of human relationships, how did people evolve to form close relationships, I would describe it as a search for compatibility in small groups. What people classically have looked for and what classically makes for the best, most satisfying pairings are finding and building something compatible with another person from a pretty limited range of options.
OK, so I need to meet people in person. I need to make friend groups. Where do you go to do that now, when things are expensive and a lot of life is online?
For somebody who’s heterosexual, if you’re a woman, it’s like, “OK, where am I gonna meet guys? Where are the guys out there?” Don’t worry if the guys are going to be there, because oftentimes when people meet partners, it’s like, friends of friends of friends, right? It’s all making connections. Maybe it’s sports, maybe it’s activities, maybe it’s a cooking class, maybe it’s a dancing class. Maybe it’s just calling back up the people from your last job that you haven’t seen in a while, getting together over drinks and making it a regular thing. I get it, people are really busy, and everything online is a draw. But the importance of hanging out with people in person, those loose acquaintances, that’s where so much of the magic happens.
People talk a lot about how it’s just a numbers game: You have to go on more dates, you have to swipe on more people. What’s your response to that?
It is a numbers game, but maybe, let’s think about the numbers like this. Rather than numbers of people, it’s numbers of interactions. So you could meet 12 people one time, or you could meet three people four times. I choose the second one, right? Meet fewer people more times. We’re still talking about numbers. We’re still talking about how much time you’re out there interacting with people, figuring out whether you click. But 20-minute coffee dates really pull for a snap judgment. In a perfect world, swiping right on somebody would mean I’m going to do a coffee date with you, and then we’re going to go to some interactive class, and then we’re going to go to a concert and I’m going to spend time with you in all three settings and kind of see how that goes in total and then assess it. So it’s not that the numbers game is misguided, you do have to get out there and try different things, but we often think, “Oh, I can just sample people really briefly, and eventually I’ll get lucky.” The smaller those samples are, the more painful this whole thing gets.
Coffee dates feel like interviews to me. But from a scientific standpoint, why do you recommend an activity-based date over the classic coffee date?
The best evidence that we have for what can you do to make yourself more appealing to someone is not to share your CV and impress them with those details. Do something that reveals a little bit about who you are, how you interact, how you relate to the world, and, best of all, something a little bit vulnerable about yourself. The 36 Questions test, sometimes called the Fast Friends procedure, is truly the best tool we have. Within an hour or two of something interactive, people have gotten to the point where they’re willing to talk about things that they regret, or things that they really like about the other person that they’ve just gotten to know. And this is all in that Fast Friends procedure. So when I think about people doing activities where their attention isn’t just on interview mode, it’s like, “Oh, we’re tackling something together,” it really decreases that self-promotion instinct, which is usually misguided.
In your book, you call compatibility “curated, cultivated and constructed.” Does that mean, to you, that you can theoretically be compatible with anyone?
If you take this idea to its extreme, if you push me, ultimately I land on probably. And of all the things I say that people are going to be resistant to, I think that’s the one that people are like, “No.” Again, I go back to the people involved in small groups. They made relationships work with the limited number of options that were available, and because we are creatures who engage in motivated reasoning, it is very, very possible to be happy with who you’re with, but that does not mean that people just get to turn off all of the alternatives that exist. I think the best way to think about it is, I think a lot of pairs have compatibility potential, but I also think that the many decisions along the way matter a lot.
If the idea of romantic destiny is, as you call it in your book, “the weakest idea ever promoted by scientists,” what is your number-one dating myth you feel your personal research has debunked?
That men and women want different things out of partnerships, that they’re either pulling for different traits or look like these totally different entities, I just think the evidence for this is completely wrong. We see differences when you ask men and women, “What do you want in a partner?” But when you look at the attributes that actually matter, it’s really amazing the extent to which men and women are similar. And it’s not to say that there are no differences, like there is a difference in the strength of the sex drive thing. It’s smaller than people say, but it is there. But if you think about, what do men and women want out of a close relationship? What they really want is somebody who’s going to be supportive, is going to celebrate my successes and is going to have my back.
How do people practically apply that in their dating lives?
Refocusing on attachment, I hope that reduces some of the heteropessimism out there in the world. We have arrived at this very bleak view of relations between men and women, like we see the world differently, we’re just always at odds. And boy, when you come at relationships with this attachment frame, and you look at the things that make people happy, men and women can absolutely build beautiful things working together, and they often do. Because we are creatures who attach, there is so much potential for genuine connection over a sustained period of time.
Do you have any predictions for what the future of dating might look like?
It certainly feels like people are getting tired of the apps and that they’re looking for more ways to socialize in person. I think that’s wonderful. I worry about what AI is going to do, like, is that going to feel so real that it causes our interactional muscles to atrophy? That’s the big question mark on the horizon. I’m not here to be grandpa, but I also hope that we don’t totally lose the ability to interact with real people.
Lifestyle
Wagner Moura on ‘The Secret Agent,’ aging and privileging joy : Wild Card with Rachel Martin
A note from Wild Card host Rachel Martin: After watching the Brazilian film “The Secret Agent,” I came away with a deeper appreciation for how much fear, resolve and longing can be communicated through a person’s eyes.
Wagner Moura subtly conveys all those emotions as a man on the run in a military dictatorship. Yes, there are powerful moments of dialogue but so much of Wagner’s talent as a storyteller and an actor comes in what is left unsaid – how he uses the negative space to make us feel and to make us think.
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