Francis Paquin – Contributor

The term “Candid Girlfriend” was born two years ago on a New York City subway, creator Steph Dag said in an interview with Kareem Rahma. She described it as “the clash between what men think they want and who they actually date.” According to her, men claim to love the opinionated, hot, artsy girls;  the kind who read Joan Didion and chain-smoke outside galleries but in reality, they fall for the Candid Girlfriend: 5’3”, naturally thin, mousy brown hair grazing her shoulders, studied art history, loves pomegranates and exists mainly through grainy film photos her boyfriend uploads in carefully curated dumps every month or so.

So, why bring this up now? What does it say about us?

Photo courtesy of Francis Paquin

At first glance, it might sound like another shallow critique of beauty standards, or worse, a subtle reinforcement of them. Others might read it as quiet misogyny, where men romanticize women they see as soft, passive, or “aesthetic.” And sure, that’s part of it. But the issue runs deeper than preference. The “candid” epidemic has become cultural, and I’ll admit, I’ve caught the bug myself.

A friend once told me it’s not really about men wanting women who are “soft” or “submissive.” It’s about wanting women who are “cool.” The “cool girl” speaks her mind, laughs too loud, doesn’t care what people think, until she does something real. But the moment she skips shaving her legs, raises her voice, or disagrees a little too sharply, the illusion cracks. She stops being “cool” and becomes “crazy.” And that’s the heart of it: the “Candid Girl” isn’t celebrated for who she is, but for how effortlessly she can perform being “herself.”

Through my own questionable romantic escapades, I think I’ve found her counterpart: the “Candid Boyfriend.”

Growing up mostly around my older sister and her friends, I’ve heard endless dissections of the “perfect man.” On paper, he’s the full deal: tall (always six-foot-two, never six-foot-one), dark features, reads real books, emotionally literate but not performative, confident but grounded, maybe athletic, but not obsessed with it. Someone who texts back, listens and remembers the name of your childhood dog. In short, the guy who “gets it.”

But the “Candid Boyfriend” isn’t that man. He’s the version who looks like he “gets it.” He has the surface-level traits of depth without the depth itself. He’s the guy who doesn’t really use Instagram, but somehow every photo of him still looks like an A24 still. He reads (or pretends to). He’s funny, but in that reserved way that makes you want to impress him. He owns a denim jacket that’s “vintage” (aka from Urban Outfitters) and a record player he swears gets regular use. He’s polite, self-aware, and knows how to make coffee in at least three different ways. He’s the perfect anti-mainstream mainstream.

I think today we’re all looking for someone who fits into our personal movie, our highlight reel. Someone who complements our aesthetic and makes our identity feel more believable. The perfect background arm for your second “soft launch” this year. Everyone’s trying to be the main character, which means no one’s really looking for a partner; they’re looking for a sidekick. And I blame individualism and/or my excessive screen time. Maybe the “candid” epidemic isn’t about attraction or algorithms at all. Maybe it’s about fear, the fear of someone who sees through the character you’ve so carefully curated and asks to meet the real person behind it all.