The economics of singlehood

Perhaps it’s just me and the company I keep, but it appears that mankind, as a whole, is increasingly “searching for love” but failing to find it.

At first glance, this is a very puzzling predicament: Many of us now live in high-density megacities and have access to clever computer algorithms via dating websites like match.com which should, in theory, increase our chances of meeting that perfect someone. And yet the world seems more lonesome today than at any point in recorded history.

The statistics are undeniable. People are staying single for longer, marriage rates are declining as divorces rise, and a growing number of individuals will spend their entire lives never having tasted wedded bliss (or hell, according to some).

To be sure, I’m not trying to rehash the trite discussion about falling fertility rates – I think most of us accept that smaller family sizes are a natural consequence of economic progress, better education and a general trend of female emancipation/empowerment – and this isn’t a bad thing per se, unless you’re an economic planner worrying about future GDP growth.

The more pertinent question, in my mind, is why we appear to be slowly defying what should be a natural instinct to pair up.

As an economist, I believe that there is a logical explanation to every problem, although like most economists, I find it hard to prescribe solutions with any certainty. Nonetheless, my take on the singlehood issue is that we quite simply, as a species, have become too “picky”.

My mother is constantly reminding me that both she and I are “not getting any younger”. She wants to see her grand-kids grow up before she dies and tells me that I shouldn’t be so picky. The truth is, though, that many of us have become more demanding, both of ourselves and of our prospective partners, and this is in no small part due to the fact that we have so much more information today than those in generations past ever did.

THE CURSE OF CHOICE

The average 20-something today has been exposed to a world outside of the bubble he grew up in: He has probably travelled a fair bit with the help of budget airlines, and been seduced by the myriad of exotic foreign cultures thanks to the Internet.

I believe that it is this trend of globalisation, coupled with an illusion of choice, that has led to the inconvenient situation we have today. Imagine that we all exist in a kind of “relationship supermarket”, where single people (or dissatisfied spouses) go to “shop” for a potential partner. In the old days, this would be like going into NTUC FairPrice, and picking up one of two brands of washing powder. Simple, straightforward, and you’re done in two seconds.

In the 21st century, however, it’s a bit more like logging on to Amazon or eBay and browsing through the hundreds of different brands on offer, choosing between powder or liquid detergent, with or without colour-brightening crystals, and from a mind-boggling selection of different scents, even if 90 per cent of them are not even available/practical to ship to your part of the world.

So of course you’re going to take a little longer, and if you’re anything like me, you’ll spend ages reading every label, comparing each item, before selecting one at random out of frustration, and then immediately regretting it afterward.

This, unfortunately, is the curse of choice. As consumers, we relish the experience and the variety, and the ability to choose from a wider product range to find one that more closely matches our personal preferences is scarcely a bad thing.

However, the problem is that unlike a normal supermarket, where increased choice often comes hand in hand with more reasonable prices, the reverse is true in the relationship supermarket because, strangely, in this case, having more options leads to higher expectations and inflated prices.

Thanks to technology, we are now constantly bombarded with images of beautiful people, news of successful young entrepreneurs, and brilliant stories of romance and gallantry – examples that we all aspire toward, but few of us will ever reach.

The observation, therefore, is that more and more of us are raising our asking prices on the relationship supermarket, despite not actually offering a better product, and as a result, more of us are being “left on the shelf” longer, some even past the recommended sell-by date.

UPGRADE, UPGRADE

The solution to this problem, it seems to me, is fairly straightforward: We can either throw in the towel, accept our lot in life and lower our expectations – or we can recognise that we need to keep upgrading ourselves to stay ahead of the game and keep up with the aforementioned inflationary pressures.

Anyone who refuses to do either will likely leave the supermarket empty-handed and end up utilising the Internet for that other oft-used function, as a hilarious Avenue Q musical number reminds us. Either way, we all get exactly the outcome we deserve.

Personally, I don’t see rising singlehood as a problem, because I believe the free market, when left to its own devices, is generally capable of finding its own equilibrium. It is a policymaker’s nightmare, because it exacerbates the issue of declining fertility, but at the individual level, in terms of personal fulfilment, I don’t think my single friends and I are any less happy than those who exist as one half of a couple.

On the one hand, the ever-increasing demands of the relationship supermarket are testing and frustrating, but on the other, they are a strong motivation for self-improvement and development. Thanks to the rigours of the relationship market, I’ve lost 20 kgs and taken up a variety of sports, I’ve improved my dress sense, picked up some Russian and Japanese, and learnt how to cook, bake and play the guitar.

Yes, I may still be swinging single, in part because these feathers in my cap have made me a more demanding dater, but in these past couple of years as a bachelor, I have undoubtedly grown as an individual and achieved more than I could ever have imagined. If singlehood is the price we must pay for such accomplishment, then I say so be it. Que sera, sera.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Charles Tan Meah Yang is an Investment Analyst working in London who intends to return to Singapore in the near future.