WOT IT’S LIKE DATING AS A GEN ALPHA GIRL

By the titillating granddaughter

2032. Evie Magazine

I’m often asked by salivating older men, my ‘mentors’, what my dating life is like. This is often the only thing they want to hear about. ‘A young fertile blonde woman life yourself’, they mutter, ‘you must be beating them off with a stick’, they salivate.

That’s when I bat my eyelashes and explain that, in fact, it was their generation which was the last group of ‘real men’, and that boys my age are all shut-ins, too obsessed with their AI chatbots to even notice my swelling body. It is usually at this stage that they ask me to accept money from their astro-turfed organisation which is trying to ban the internet for people under the age of twenty-five – when their brain has fully developed.

I couldn’t agree more with that idea. I hated growing up on social media. One day, I decided I would not longer use TikTokInstagram, competing for thumbs ups with other women, from men my age. Instead I would start posting my thoughts on my Substack, where I now compete for likes from middle-aged men, which is clearly much more dignified. They also give me paid subscriptions to write over, and over again about my dating life, and about how everybody my age is mentally ill, or retarded, which is much more normal and healthy than occasionally posting an Instagram story of myself and my friends at a festival or a nightclub.

Ok, now that my epoch-defining, blood-in-the-bathwater analysis is out of the way, time for the meat and potatoes. Boys my age, well, they are a bit like me. Ours was the generation that grew up on iPads, where we would read mPREG fanfictions about KPOP groups on Literotica instead of the Famous Five. Because of this, it is extremely difficult for either gender of generation Alpha to achieve erotic completion without imagining that an Octopus is either strangling us (for the girls) or that we are an Octopus strangling somebody else (for the boys). Really all I want in life is to be taken to a nice restaurant by an older, suave gentlemen, perhaps wearing a shirt and a machine washable sports blazer. That is my fantasy.

But alas, until my knight with silver hair comes into my life I am stuck with boys my own age (sad face). I’m desperate for human connection, through the mobile device smartphone iPad, so I log onto the latest TikTok dating App and make a commodity of myself with selfies. I have to use old ones, from when I used to use social media. Back when I was just like any other girl, I would spend every waking hour taking selfies.

We would meet up in cafés, pubs, restaurants, you name it - spend three to four hours at a time taking pictures. Sleepovers were marathon selfie sessions, staying up until the early hours taking endless pictures, only with the occasional round of pillow fighting and gossiping about which older male teachers that we fancied.

It makes me sad, looking back, that I used to take so many photographs of myself in a desperate bid for male approval on Instagram. Anyway, by the by, here’s a photo of me.

You’ll notice that I am not really wearing any makeup. I used to try all of those Zoella YouTube tutorials, but unlike the other girls my age I was unwilling to get botox, a BBL, a boob job, liposuctions and lip extensions, which was the standard fare for a Gen Alpha girl before starting secondary school, so that you could keep up with your peer group when it was time to start OnlyFans. My reticence to do these things made me unpopular, sad, even a bit…(sniff sniff)…lonely?

Anyway, eventually I matched with a Gen Alpha boy, and seeking companionship, I agreed to go on a date with him. There was something exciting about him, he seemed more grownup than the others over text. He said that he would not be bringing his mother with him on the date - an extreme rarity in our age of anxiety. He promised to refrain from watching any pornography at the dinner table for the duration of the date, again, practically unheard of.

I was somewhat excited, then, aroused, even, when I got myself dressed for the date. Let me paint a mental picture for you. I clasp my blue bralette behind my back, tightening my milky bust up firmly, then pull my stockings up until they reach my plaid skirt. Then I wrap a string of toy octopus tentacles around my waist - the universal sign amongst Gen Alpha that we are willing to have sexual intercourse. I check myself in the mirror – no makeup, good – then make my way to the Harvester, because I’m not high maintenance like the other girls, with Dark Side of the Moon by Pink Floyd playing in my earphones, because I don’t like modern music, unlike most girls my age.

Reader, it was a disaster. I arrived to find him scrolling on his mobile smartphone iPad device. He could not even bring himself to look at me as he mumbled. ‘What?’ I ask. ‘p-p-potty’ was his reply. He needed my help using the toilet. I groan. To be honest, I’ve seen worse, so I put on his harness and lead him to the bathroom.

Once inside, I’m so sexually frustrated that simply being in an enclosed space with a man my age is enough to drive me wild. So whilst pulling down his underpants to help him wee, I start to kiss him on the mouth. I feel his hands on my skin as he goes to fiddle with my bralette. It’s like the teenage romps I was always promised in films like Dirty Dancing. But then I look in the mirror, and am reminded what generation I was born into. Because he cannot unhook my bra – the only motion he is capable of making with his fingers is scrolling.

That’s how I’ve ended up still being a virgin at 25. That is really how useless all these Gen Alpha boys are. I suppose the only solution for me, as a young woman is to continue to develop my audience online with endless posts about the same topic, and perhaps write a book about my experience.

Just waiting for the day that some slobbering middle aged man takes pity on me, and instead of swiping at me, sweeps me of my feet…