Reese Witherspoon's theory about the death of the rom-com explains everything.

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Have you tried dating recently? It's — and this is me putting it nicely — literally the worst. 

Everyone seems to be in their emotionally unavailable era. Men are allergic to making plans that involve actual chairs and the only way to "meet someone organically" is to lock eyes with a guy at the gym and have him slide into your DM's six hours later with a message that reads "were you on the leg press 👀". 

To put it simply: modern dating has never been less cinematic. And, Reese Witherspoon — yes, Elle Woods herself — thinks she knows why. 

On Dax Shepard's Armchair Expert podcast, the actress argued that modern dating sucks SO MUCH because Hollywood has stopped making rom-coms. Apparently, at some point, the world decided that love stories were "cringe" and in the process, we accidentally deleted the very things that used to teach us how to flirt, fail, apologise and try again. 

Watch: Reese Witherspoon explains her theory about modern dating.

In her words? "It was actually where we learned social dynamics. From Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan."

As someone who has spent the better part of the last decade collecting relationship red flags like a hobby, I think Reese has absolutely nailed it. Back when we were watching Notting Hill and How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days, we were learning actual romantic skills. 

Heath Ledger serenaded Julia Stiles with a marching band. Hugh Grant sprinted through traffic for love. Tom Hanks wrote a letter and… patiently waited for a reply. These men were dorky but they were kind. They had jobs! They didn't ghost! They took the risk. 

Nobody wants to serenade anybody anymore. Image: Buena Vista Pictures.

Today's men would rather die than walk across a room to simply say hello. They'll send a fire emoji on your Instagram story before ever making a reservation. They'll tell you they "don't believe in labels" but still expect exclusivity (but only from you). As I often say to my coupled-up friends: the bar hasn't just lowered, it's sunk into the Earth's core.

To be fair, women aren't innocent in all of this, either.

We've become cynical, detached and, at times, emotionally literate to the point of paralysis. We don't have crushes; we have "attachment pattern recognition." Every date has become a live performance of, "I'm chill, I swear", that is then dissected with 73 messages in the group chat where you attempt to determine whether it's love or a trauma bond.

So maybe Reese is on to something. Maybe we all just need to watch When Harry Met Sally again — not necessarily to believe in the fairytale, but to remember how to be brave enough to care.

Of course, the old rom-coms weren't perfect.

Some of them taught us that stalking is romantic, that a makeover fixes everything and that every woman in love must be stick thin and, for some reason, own a whimsical scarf. The relationships we saw reflected on our screens were kind of sexist, mainly hetero and extremely delusional. But they did, arguably, give us a pretty good script. A script that said: take the risk. Say the thing. Show up and put your heart on the line. 

These days we don't have scripts, but screenshots. And we're trying to build intimacy through Hinge prompts and memes. The death of the rom-com hasn't just killed the happy ending, it's killed the rehearsal space. We don't practice rejection or redemption anymore, we just diagnose each other with narcissistic personality disorder and keep scrolling.

And yet, we still crave love stories. Just look at the success of The Summer I Turned Pretty and Nobody Wants This. We're desperate just to feel something again, and we don't want to be laughed at for doing so. 

The problem is, though, that modern rom-coms just don't quite hit the mark. They're a little bit too self-aware and every script seems to be a little bit terrified of sincerity. The characters wink at the camera, apologise for being in love and spend the entire third act unpacking their emotional baggage in therapy speak. No one just falls anymore; they "communicate boundaries" until the spark dies from pure boredom.

Even the ones that try (Anyone But You, The Materialists) feel like they've been written by people terrified of TikTok backlash. They're perfectly fine, glossy and cute — but they lack chaos. Where's the scene where someone sprints to the airport through the rain because they finally decided to stop being emotionally constipated?

My generation grew up on Bridget Jones and 10 Things I Hate About You, where love was presented as mess, but sincere.  Now dating feels like a group assignment that no one wants to lead. We are all terrified of being the one that cares first. 

Listen: Mamamia Out Loud's Em Vernem campaigns for less nonchalance and morechalant male energy when it comes to dating.

So yes, Reese, I agree: bring back the romantic comedy. Bring back the big gestures and the bookstore encounters and the slightly unhinged but ultimately wholesome persistence.

Because the last time I fell for someone it did not look anything like a movie. It looked like three months of vague texts, "maybe" plans and me pretending to be cool, calm and collected while he auditioned for the role of "person who finally shows up". (Spoiler: he never did).

Perhaps if he'd grown up watching Meg Ryan movies instead of YouTube compilations of alpha male dating coaches, things would have gone differently. 

At this point, I would take one grand gesture over a thousand emotionally unaware texts. Just one ridiculous, reckless act of romantic optimism to remind ourselves what it's like to want again, without the irony. 

So bring back the meet-cute. The Tom Hanks monologue. The Julia Roberts smile. If we all watched more rom-coms, maybe we'd remember that love isn't supposed to be a strategy — it's supposed to be a plot twist.

Feature image: Getty.