Group chats, while at times helpful, rarely spark pleasure. Instead, they’ve become another layer of digital noise in an already overwhelmed world brimming with emails, notifications, and the existential dread of blue ticks left unanswered.

Every year as December approaches, I’m struck by the magic of the season - the streets lighting up, festive music filling the air, and the sense of anticipation building around the holidays. But alongside the charm, I can’t shake a sense of discomfort with what Christmas has become for so many of us: a whirlwind of consumerism, waste, and, often, unmet expectations. I find myself wondering how we got here - how a holiday meant to bring joy and connection has morphed into something that can feel so forced, stressful, and detached from its original purpose. 

Sure, I knew he had kids. We met on Tinder and it was on his profile that he had two daughters aged eight and eleven. We talked about them on our first date; how they both played football and how he’d tried his best to be the best dad he could to them after the breakdown of his marriage. I’d dated men with kids before, but never got to the stage of meeting said kids. I’d never been against it, but honestly, when you first start dating, they’re kind of a concept rather than a reality.

I’ve been seeking connections with people my entire life and throwing myself into different iterations of community. 

My need for connection hasn’t decreased as I’ve grown into an adult, nor has my love of dance, which is why I began taking Lindy Hop classes seven years ago. Lindy Hop is a Black American swing dance that originated in Harlem in the 1920s before gaining huge popularity in the 1930s and 1940s. It’s a partnered dance with lead and follow roles, designed to encourage improvisation on a social dance floor.