Are students emotionally unavailable?

“I want to hold the power so I won’t get really hurt in the end,” admits a Psychology Master’s student. “It’s a kind of half-hearted involvement. I think it’s sad, because I really do feel a lot.”

A Global Sustainability Science student feels that there is an expectation “to play it cool” all the time. “I won’t tell you I changed my plans to see you. I’ll send a three-word message I overthought for three hours. I won’t show excitement because we are not officially together”.

“Detachment is rewarded, while emotional availability is punished,” an Economics student says. In her view, those who care less, or who are particularly good at pretending to, often hold the upper hand. “That’s been the story of my dating experience since I moved to Utrecht from Belgium. I even adopted it for a while. Now I just go with the flow, but it still feels unnatural. I keep wondering how much I have to fake not caring before I actually stop caring."

Based on these testimonies from international students, one could describe today’s young people as detached, avoidant, or afraid of commitment, yet their emotional restraint may be less a personal flaw than a coping mechanism. Half-commitment may just be a response to live. Unsurprisingly, every student quoted in this article preferred to speak anonymously, a small but telling detail in a dating culture where emotional exposure is often treated as a liability.

A limited emotional capacity
According to Utrecht University psychologist and assistant professor Leslie van der Leer, who researches modern relationship dynamics, emotional distance is not simply a matter of choice. 

“Students’ increasingly fast-paced and changeable lives genuinely make them less emotionally available,” she explains. “Much more is required from them these days: moving, exchanges, culture shocks, constantly making new connections while maintaining old ones. They are exhausted by things that continuously destabilise their lives.”

“From an evolutionary psychology perspective, our brains were not made for this fast, hyper-globalised, and hyper-connected reality,” Van der Leer says. “It all requires significant cognitive and emotional effort.” 

A third-year Economics student can relate. For him, emotional unavailability is more than a coping mechanism; it is a conscious choice. “Since this is my final year of studying in Utrecht, the idea of getting into anything that requires real emotional involvement feels almost unthinkable. I don’t need that right now.”  

“I’ve realised I can only handle casual connections right now,” a Humanities student reflects. “I’m moving soon, and everything, internships, housing, what happens after graduation, is uncertain. It’s not that I’m avoiding closeness; I just don’t have the stability to sustain it.”

Van der Leer notes that some people struggle more in this “half-interested” landscape than others. “Some can function relatively well in loose, superficial connections, while others really suffer in the absence of deep contact.” 

The Economics student uses dating apps and sees people casually, but says he’s “very clear” about his intentions. 

I like to keep my options open

Choice overload
Speaking of dating apps, they may have made students chronically undecided. Endless swiping, multiple simultaneous conversations, and a constant influx of potential partners can make any single decision feel provisional, or even unnecessary.

“There’s a study showing that the more profiles you see, the more likely you are to reject all options,” Van de Leer explains. “With fewer options, it’s easier to choose.” She compares this phenomenon to a well-known finding in marketing psychology, which showed how consumers were far more likely to buy a jar of jam when offered six flavours rather than twenty-four. “Too many options paralyse decision-making.” 

According to her, swiping culture encourages users to evaluate people quickly, compare endlessly, and move on just as fast. The possibility of finding someone better always seems one swipe away. 

“I like to keep my options open, and I always assume that the other person is doing the same,” says a Philosophy, Politics & Economics student. “This does not take away from the fact that I enjoy myself a lot when I see certain people, but I just don’t think it is enough to exclude the possibility of having even better bonds and keep meeting new people.”

“Now you can text multiple people at the same time while eating breakfast. It’s so easy and low effort that it encourages low effort. Traditional romance is dead,” adds a Economics student. 

According to Van der Leer, this environment shapes broader life choices as well. “Young adults are entering relationships later, having sex later, and navigating an expanding grey zone of relationships, situationships, and everything in between.” 

You can text multiple people at the same time while having breakfast

The fear of definition
In an era driven by endless choice and delayed decisions, a new term has emerged: 'situationships'.

Van der Leer is amused by the paradox the word evokes. “It’s basically a new term for 'I don’t know what I want',” she says. “What’s ironic is that its defining feature was that it wasn’t defined. And now people talk about being in or ending a situationship, which suddenly gives it a definition.”

At its core, calling a connection a situationship reflects a delayed choice. Rather than actively trying something out or clearly committing, many young adults remain suspended in ambiguity. Van der Leer explains that while the lack of labels offers flexibility, it also avoids the vulnerability that comes with naming expectations. 

For many, this ambiguity feels safer than clarity, so situationships function as a protective strategy. They believe that ambiguity shields them against rejection, disappointment, and asymmetrical feelings. But it also keeps deeper intimacy at bay.

Van der Leer emphasises that not all forms of detachment are inherently unhealthy. “There’s an important distinction between being detached from people and not being attached to a specific outcome,” she explains. “Keeping an open mind, seeing what something is, rather than what it has to be, can be healthy.” 

If you're not adding to my life, I'll keep you marginally in and out of it

Increased self-awareness
Van der Leer adds that the half-committed attitudes prevalent among young adults are also rooted in increased self-awareness. Social media and popular psychology have familiarised them with concepts such as attachment styles and emotional boundaries, offering new frameworks for understanding relationships. 

A third-year History student confirms this. “My social media is full of relationship analyses, videos breaking down narcissistic behaviours, emotional red flags, and what to look for in a healthy partner. It’s actually helped me make sense of people I dated in the past. I feel like I now have the language and tools to explain certain dynamics without blaming myself. I can just recognise it for what it is and move on.”

Think women are more attached? Think again
What about gender dynamics in this scenario? “The stereotype sees men as avoidantly attached, half-interested and more casually involved, but today, women are increasingly independent and emotionally detached as well,” says Van der Leer. “There’s a growing mentality of: ‘If you’re not really adding to my life, I’ll keep you marginally in and out of it.’”

She indicates that modern research brings nuance to traditional assumptions about emotional dependency. “There’s a paper we discussed in class showing that men tend to depend more on women for their well-being and are therefore less likely to initiate breakups. Women generally have broader, safer, and more diverse social support systems.” 

Emotional fatigue 
Ultimately, Van der Leer invites a reframing of emotional detachment: not as indifference, but as fatigue. She suggests that fatigue has become a defining condition of modern intimacy. “There’s just so much happening, and most of it isn’t good. The constant stream of crises and distressing news online shrinks the emotional space people have for one another.” In a world that rarely slows down, emotional distance may be less about not caring and more about being cautious.

“I barely have the energy to keep up with my friends, here or back home,” confirms a third-year international Humanities student. “Between classes, work, and doomscrolling through everything going wrong in the world, it feels impossible to invest deeply in anyone new. I care, but I just don’t have the bandwidth.”