Do You Believe in Love at First Sight?

I used to. Maybe I still do.

It’s easy to dismiss the idea as outdated or naive — the stuff of Hollywood montages, faded paperbacks, and teenage dreams. But as more and more people question the efficacy of swiping, ghosting, algorithmic matchmaking, and small talk over spritzes, something strange is happening; love at first sight is making a comeback.

According to the 2025 "Singles in America" survey from Match and the Kinsey Institute, 60% of single Americans now say they believe in it. Nearly half claim to have experienced it. In an age of dating fatigue and fractured connection, this should be surprising. But it isn’t.

Because even in our most cynical moments, we are still holding out hope for something magic.

The Truth Behind the Spark Love at first sight doesn’t always mean lightning bolts or violins. Sometimes it means looking at someone and, before a word is spoken, just knowing. Not that you’ll marry them. Not that your life will change forever. Just that something has shifted. You feel seen. You feel something real.

I’ve felt that once in my life. And while it didn’t end with a white picket fence, it did remind me that connection can be instant. That energy is real. That sometimes, when two people cross paths, something sacred flickers in the space between.

UC Davis psychologist Paul Eastwick calls this early-stage intensity a legitimate phenomenon — not common, but not mythical either. It’s not just physical attraction. It’s resonance. It’s recognition. But he also cautions that this spark doesn’t always last. Passionate love is not the same as compassionate love. One lights the fire; the other keeps it burning.

Esther Perel, the world’s favourite couple’s therapist, would likely agree. She reminds us that the real spark isn’t just about chemistry — it’s about curiosity. About play. About entering the unknown with imagination instead of fear.

“One of the greatest lessons I’ve learned in my career,” Perel says, “is that desire and aliveness come from embracing uncertainty.”

But in 2025, uncertainty is terrifying. So we script our dates. We optimise our profiles. We seek efficiency instead of intimacy. We date with the same mindset we apply to job interviews or real estate apps: filtering for perfection.

Which might explain why so many of us are still alone.

Choosing Love, or Choosing Solitude?

Here’s the other truth. I am happy being single. Really happy.

Over the last two years, I’ve rebuilt my life from the ground up. I got sober. I found purpose. I trained my body back to strength. I traded chaos for clarity. And in doing so, I realised that I don’t need a relationship to feel whole. I don’t need someone to fix me or fill a void.

But I do still believe in love. I believe in that gasp of recognition. I believe in deep, playful, co-created connection. I just no longer believe that it has to be forced. Or that it has to look a certain way. Or that it should come at the expense of a life I already love.

If it finds me, great. If not, I still have plenty to live for.

The Rise of Solo Living New books, podcasts, and studies are all echoing the same quiet revolution: solitude is not a curse. It’s a craft. And Gen Z and millennials are increasingly opting out of traditional models of partnership to explore singlehood as a valid, vibrant path.

Emma Gannon’s novel Table for One, Peter McGraw’s Solo, and Daniel Schreiber’s Alone all challenge the myth that romantic love is the only kind of love worth celebrating. And they’re resonating, deeply.

Because being alone is not the same as being lonely. It can mean freedom. Creativity. Sensory pleasure. Self-trust. As one expert put it, solitude is a block of clay: it becomes what we choose to shape it into.

Right now, I’m shaping mine into purpose. Connection. Building Get Out. Training hard. Volunteering. Cooking late at night with music playing and my dog at my feet. It’s not loneliness. It’s life. And it’s pretty damn full.

But There’s Still That Flicker... And yet, I’d be lying if I said I never dream of the moment. That bolt-from-the-blue. That glance across the park or grocery store or god-forbid, a gym class. That unexpected yes.

Because even if we know better—even if we’ve read all the studies and taken all the classes and done all the inner work—part of us is still wired for awe. For stories. For the unexpected unfolding of something greater than the sum of its parts.

And maybe that’s not naive. Maybe it’s sacred.

The Invitation

So, here’s what I’m holding onto:

• I believe in love at first sight. Not because I’m desperate for it, but because I’m open to wonder.

• I believe in solitude. Not because I’ve given up on love, but because I’ve built a life that doesn’t require it to feel meaningful.

• And I believe in the kind of connection Esther Perel describes — playful, curious, alive.

If you’re single and thriving, I see you. If you’re lonely and longing, I see you too. If you’re holding out for something rare, refusing to settle, creating space for the kind of magic that doesn’t come with a checklist — you’re not crazy.

You’re courageous.

So, whether you’re looking across a crowded room, a train carriage, a farmers’ market, or your own reflection — don’t give up on the spark.

It might not come the way you expect. But when it does, you’ll know.

And it might just know you back.