Modern Dating Realities. I just watched "Materialists".

(Supplied: Sony Pictures)

Tonight, I went to see Materialists. The lure was obvious: two glorious hours to dream over Pedro Pascal. I’m not alone in my obsession. Like so many women right now, I’ve fallen for him, not just for his undeniable charm on-screen, but for what he shares off-screen. His kindness, his ease, and that warmth in his smile that makes you feel like he’s your best friend even though he doesn’t know you exist. We’ve all seen him as the man of the hour in many of his bodies of work, but it’s the man behind the roles that’s truly captured my attention. And, as a single woman who’s been out of the dating game for a decade, the thought of him off-screen brings comfort.

I went in expecting the usual rom-com magic, hoping for something light to lift my mood - but what I got instead was so much more. I wasn’t ready for the reflection of modern dating that the film thrust in front of me. Materialists didn’t show me a fictional love story, it felt like an unfiltered snapshot of why I, and so many others, have stepped back from the world of dating.

The truth is, the world of modern dating isn’t the whimsical escape it used to be. It’s complicated, awkward, and a lot messier than the sparkly fantasy we’re sold. The movie highlighted something I’ve been mulling over for a while: the unrealistic expectations we all seem to carry with us like a shopping list. A list of traits that we think our ideal partner should have, as if we can pick them off a shelf like a product at Woolworths. "He must be tall, successful, well-travelled, sensitive, ambitious… and oh, can he also cook and have the perfect amount of stubble?" We all do it. We all have a checklist that’s not even rooted in the real world. What happened to falling for someone’s heart and soul? It seems as though these days, we're more focused on fitting someone into a preconceived box. And the scariest part? That list isn't just for us; it's being thrown at everyone else, too.

Materialists does a brilliant job of showing how hollow this approach can be. Characters are constantly grappling with the idea of perfection, asking themselves if they're even "good enough." The superficiality of the pursuit is so clear, and it’s both painful and relatable. As the film unfolds, the protagonist meets the guy. And not just any guy, but someone who on paper is the dream partner: charming, wealthy, attentive, funny. Pedro Pascal, playing the unicorn of a man single women are looking for, becomes a symbol of everything we think we want - but, of course, like all of us, he’s got his flaws. He's not perfect in the end. And that’s where the truth really stings. Even he, the most idealised version of manhood we can imagine, is still wrestling with his own baggage, his own vulnerabilities.

As I watched this unravel, I realised: this was exactly the reason I haven’t dated in years. Not because I’m picky, but because I’ve watched the world of romance evolve into something unrecognisable. We’ve all become conditioned to treat dating as a transaction. We scroll, we match, we swipe left, swipe right, swipe left again. The expectation that we should have everything figured out within a few swipes is insane. Everyone seems to want instant gratification, and when we don’t get it, we move on to the next one. Dating has become about finding a product, not a partner.

And this is where the shift in the movie really started to make me think. Sure, we’re all guilty of being a little too picky sometimes, but maybe what we really need isn’t a person who checks every box. Maybe what we really need is someone who’s willing to just be human with us. To let the imperfections show and still be there. I know, it’s a novel concept, right? A little risky, a little terrifying, but maybe it’s the antidote we’ve all been searching for. Maybe true connection lies not in finding someone who’s perfect but in finding someone who’s willing to laugh at the awkward moments, share the weird quirks, and still choose to be part of each other’s lives, flaws and all.

As the credits rolled and I walked out of the cinema, I felt a little bit deflated, but in a way that sparked a lot of thought. The future of dating? It’s unclear. Will we keep chasing after the fantasy partner who checks all the boxes, or will we learn to step back and embrace imperfections? Materialists has me wondering if we’ll ever get past the overwhelming pursuit of ‘perfection’ and return to something real. The more I think about it, the more I’m starting to wonder, can true love even survive in a world so obsessed with lists, criteria, and a digital-first approach?

The way we date now, through apps, through swipes, through quick fixes, leaves little room for vulnerability and real connection. It’s easy to lose sight of the fact that what makes someone worth it isn’t the shiny exterior, but the depth beneath it. The soul. The flaws. The humanity.

Whilst I have been off the scene in the physical sense for a very long time, I refuse to believe that this - this modern dating circus - is all we have to look forward to. I want to believe that amid all the profiles and filters, there’s space for genuine love. That somewhere beyond the digital noise, there will still be room for connection that’s built on authenticity and shared experience. And I don’t think I’m the only one.

Maybe we’re just in a phase. The world is constantly shifting, and maybe, just maybe, the way we look for love will shift too. I hope we’ll return to something more grounded. Something real. Because if there’s anything I've learned from Materialists, it’s that perfect lists don’t make perfect love stories. At the end of the day, love is about more than just the boxes we check. It's about people who can see each other’s flaws and still choose to be there. Maybe then, we'll find what we’re all really searching for, not someone who fits the mould, but someone who fits us.