Love Languages? No, It’s All About Dating Dictionaries Now

I was already nervous about stepping into the dating pool, and now I’ve discovered something worse than bad prompts: the slang. We barely survived the era of ghosting and situationships (which, by the way, were coined like five minutes ago), and Gen Z has already moved on. Suddenly, there’s Shrekking, Banksying, Orbiting… I swear, love now comes with a glossary longer than my uni reading list.

So here I am, a Gen Z baby deer on wobbly legs, peeking at the dating pool from a safe distance — armed only with memes, matcha, and this freshly updated dictionary of chaos.

Shrekking

via GIPHY

The name alone makes me nervous. Once upon a time, Shrek was a lesson in not judging a book by its onion-layered cover. In 2025, however, 'getting Shrekked' is less fairytale and more social experiment. You date someone outside your type — maybe even someone deliberately playing down their appeal — and, shocker, it ends in trauma.

In theory, it’s romantic. In practice, it feels like turning up in your best dress only to realise your date is cosplaying swamp life. Lower your standards, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.

Reverse Catfishing

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Imagine being tricked into attraction. Online, they’re aggressively ordinary — blurry photos, suspicious lighting, angles that scream 'I don’t know how cameras work'. In person, they’re annoyingly attractive. That’s reverse catfishing: undersell digitally, overdeliver IRL.

It’s supposed to be flattering, but honestly? It makes me suspicious. Why lull me into a false sense of mediocrity only to ambush me with cheekbones? Dating is not an extreme makeover reveal.

Kittenfishing

via GIPHY

Think catfishing, but make it subtle. A generous inch added to height, a conveniently 'forgotten' year of age, filters working harder than your therapist. It’s not full-scale deception, just minor exaggerations. But here’s the thing: minor lies tend to echo loudly across a dinner table. Was it the dim lighting, or have I been played?

Zombeing

via GIPHY

The plot twist nobody asked for. Just when you’ve healed from being ghosted, your ex resurrects in your DMs with a casual 'Hey stranger' — no apology, no context, just undead energy.

The thing is, resurrection belongs in the Bible, not my inbox. If you vanished once, stay buried.

Pocketing

via GIPHY

Welcome to the relationship equivalent of 'Do Not Disturb'. You exist — but only in private. No best friends, no family dinners, no Instagram soft launch. You’re the Voldemort of their dating life: never mentioned, never seen.

I believe in discretion, but if I’m your partner and I don’t even get a meme tag? That’s not privacy, that’s erasure.

Orbiting

via GIPHY

They won’t reply to your texts, but they’ll watch your stories religiously. They’ll like your posts, maybe drop a fire emoji, but never commit to an actual conversation. Orbiting is the ghost with Wi-Fi access — hovering, haunting, refusing to leave.

It’s not affection, it’s possession. A reminder that they exist, without the effort of existing with you.

Banksying

via GIPHY

And then there’s my personal nightmare: Banksying. One day they’re there, the next — vanished, without fight or warning, like a Banksy mural that turns up overnight and disappears just as quickly, leaving you wondering if you dreamt the whole thing.

Closure? Never heard of her.

So, Do I Still Want to Date?

Honestly, I can’t decide if the dating pool is thrilling or terrifying. With every new term, it feels less like romance and more like an obstacle course. Ghosting was bad enough. Now we’ve got swamp references, undead boyfriends, and disappearing acts.

Part of me thinks my soulmate is hiding on LinkedIn. The other part suspects staying single might actually be the healthiest relationship status in 2025. Either way, I’ll be on the sidelines.