Is Being Apolitcal a Dating Red Flag?

Dating can be a minefield as James Reynolds explores, but as he unpicks his likes and dislikes, he questions, as a gay man, could he really date someone apolitcal?

After my longest dating drought, I decided to redownload dating apps. Like any perpetually single Carrie Bradshaw wannabe, I had to analyse what I was looking for. Pros and cons, green flags and red; we’ve all made those lists. I had your all-rounders: kind, funny, thinks I’m the best thing since sliced bread. I also had certain non-negotiables. One of them being identifying as nonpolitical or apolitical.

You might be thinking ‘that’s oddly specific. Isn’t your bar high enough?’ but even taking queerness out of the equation, politics is the backbone of our society. Unless you’ve been living under a rock, that backbone is falling apart. How someone cannot be enraged at the cost of living, the treatment of immigrants and the government’s stance on Palestine is beyond me.

I’m not looking for someone to turn up to a date on a soapbox. I’m not looking for someone whose idea of a great weekend is back-to-back protests. But someone with enough intelligence – intellectual and emotional – to care about the state of the world is essential. And if date nights include writing to MPs, as long as it’s over a bottle of wine, I’m game.

Some of my Hinge offerings exist under the illusion that they’re not affected by politics. They don’t live in Palestine. They’ve never had their benefits cut. Of course, this is a total fallacy – no one is untouched by politics. Your annual salary notwithstanding, even your electricity bill increasing annually. To declare oneself politically apathetic, I have to question the prescription of your rose-tinted glasses.

Perhaps identifying as non-political is a symptom of something else, an even redder flag. Understanding the political system and how it can screw people, speaks not just to political allegiance but to compassion, empathy and sense of community. For me, these are key components of boyfriend material. 

For example, in 2021/22, 2.1 million people in the UK lived in a household which had used a food bank. Yet we declare ourselves a first-world first-rate country. Even researching that statistic angers me. If you’ve never had to use food banks, but can empathise with those who do, and you acknowledge the part the government has had to play in it all, you’re not apolitical.

Dating apps. Koshiro K/Shutterstock

This counts doubly when I’m trying to date gay men. You cannot divorce the queer experience from politics. Our rights, protections and existence were once political debates. Whether you were born before or after Section 28, before or after same-sex marriage was legalised, the lives of LGBTQ+ people have always been policed and punctuated by politics. 

Knowing about our political past and struggles, remembering the shoulders we stand on, is important. Not only does it show intelligence (major personal turn on), it shows respect for our collective. My date and I should be able to enjoy a date, holding hands and kissing in public, whilst feeling safe. That date will only be bettered by a mutual appreciation for the people that fought for us to do just that.

There’s an episode of Will and Grace that sums up my point precisely. Will dates a younger man whose experience is vastly different from Will’s. Will makes an erudite point. His date should remember that the happy life he leads is due to older gays ‘making a big deal’. “Yeah, I know all about Stonehenge” is his reply. He is promptly shown the door. I have to agree with Will on this one. If someone had no interest in queer history, if remembering where we as a community have been, there would be no second date.

To plagiarise a cliché: if life is a road, then sometimes, as my friend Heather said, it can feel like its crumbling beneath you. The road might be safe now, but up ahead – it’s unsteady. It would be easy as a middle-class gay man to say that things are fine for me now but the reality is, conversion therapy has not been banned yet and our trans community - the same community who supported gay rights - are under attack.

Laws and politics aren’t static. You only have to look across the Atlantic and remember the overturning of Roe vs. Wade. Suddenly you start worrying what could be next. Could the UK catch the repealing-basic-rights bug? The thought that existing laws could be repealed and potential laws might never happen – that road becomes terrifying.

I need a partner, a companion, on that politically treacherous road. Our communal political history will arm our present, and better our futures. A future I would like to share with a politically knowledgeable boyfriend. 

I won’t pretend that I’m not a fantasist when it comes to dating. I’ll have imagined every type of romantic scenario before the second round of drinks. But I want my fantasies to remain romantic and dreamy. The thought of us sliding backwards politically frightens me.

How could I explain this to a guy who doesn’t have the same fears? As many of us do, I want to share a loving and safe life with an ideal partner. Being politically astute helps guarantee that safety. Knowing who to vote for, how to support people, parties, organisations, and discussing those ideas with similarly and differently-minded people.  

That’s what I want in a man. Never mind taking turns washing the dishes.