From weekly podcast to published book: Four years of The Independent’s Millennial Love

At the age of 23, I’d never been in a long-term relationship, had only slept with two people, and thought romance was like something out of a Richard Curtis film. I was clueless about love, which is why it’s strange that my editor asked me to start doing a weekly podcast about it. The brief was simple: explore the impact the digital revolution has had on the way young people date now.

That podcast was Millennial Love, and it has since been nominated in the British Podcast Awards, garnered more than one million downloads, and featured an array of best-selling authors, musicians, and TV stars as guests, including everyone from Sara Pascoe to Raven Smith. It has also become the inspiration for my book of the same name, which combines memoir with social commentary and anecdotes from previous podcast guests.

It’s funny to think how much has changed in the four since that podcast started. Not just in my own life – I’ve now been in a long-term relationship for nearly three years – but in the world around us and how that has shaped the conversations we’ve had on the show. Initially, my co-host and I would get together every week, pick subjects to discuss that had been in the news, and share tidbits from our own dating lives. We covered a lot. From sober dating and attachment styles to texting compatibility to period sex. Nothing was off the table.

But as the show went on, and I naturally felt more comfortable sharing more of my own life on the show, I began to struggle to find a balance between wanting to share my experiences to help other people with their love lives, and wanting to keep certain things private. As I shared more of my own life on the podcast, I soon found myself secretly willing for my dates to go badly as it made for a better story. And then a strange thing happened: when I revealed to any prospective dates that I hosted a relationship podcast, they would ask when I was going to discuss them, as if they were a hotel waiting for a Trip Advisor review.

Today, the podcast is quite different from the one we launched. Each episode is now a one-to-one interview with a contributor who shares their experiences of romance - the good, the bad and the ugly. I’ve been lucky enough to speak to some of my literary heroes on the show, including Lisa Taddeo, Matt Haig, and Sophie Macintosh, and many inspiring public figures, including Munroe Bergdorf, Courtney Act, and Gina Martin. We’ve covered everything from mental health and gender fluidity to #MeToo and motherhood.

In the four years since we launched the podcast, not only has the concept changed but my approach to dating has grown and developed too. Listening back to some of our old episodes, I can see just how much. In episode 16, we discussed texting compatibility. At the time, I was dating a man who didn’t have a smartphone. I said this on the show, and smugly explained how I preferred it because it meant that we communicated at a slower pace, which I found to be more authentic than messaging on WhatsApp or Instagram. But now I realise I was just trying to convince myself this is how I thought. Actually, waiting days for his replies put me on edge.

I look back at that episode and feel pleased that I no longer trick myself into thinking certain dating behaviours are OK, as I did then. I have also become more true to myself in the years since. In episode 28 we discussed social media stalking, something which at the time I considered to be creepy or not the done thing. But in reality, our social media platforms are curated, often for this purpose. They are personal adverts we put out to the world to show people who we are. What would be wrong with doing your due diligence and finding out a bit more about a prospective date by looking at their social media?

After all, in the era before dating apps, you would most likely have been given background information on a potential partner by a mutual friend, or a colleague. But this would have most likely been tangible information about their families, interests and ambitions, things that are arguably more important than where someone went for brunch last week, or a a shower thought they once had. So integral is it to our modern lives, I’ve dedicated an entire chapter dedicated to social media stalking in my book.

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Of course the risk of farming your personal experience for a podcast can also mean needing to tread carefully when you discuss other people. One time, I spoke about a disappointing date I’d just gone on with an old flame from university. We’d gone to the theatre, which I’d said was a good thing because then I didn’t have to talk to him as I thought he was a bit dull. He listened to the episode. Since, I’ve tried to be more sensitive to how I speak about my own love life on the show, which I do rarely. But I’ve also learnt not to view my dating experiences as content fodder and take more care when discussing them, because often the funniest or strangest anecdotes are shared at the expense of someone else. And that person might remember that experience very differently to you.

In trying to open a discussion for our audience I have actually ended up learning a lot about the complexities and complications of relationships: how dating is not just a shallow topic used to fuel conversations at cocktail hour, but that one that offers us a fascinating insight into society. I’ve also learnt how love affects people differently, depending on factors like race, gender, and sexuality. Although, as I’ve been surprised to find, many of us also have shared experiences in spite of these differences. And that’s something we need to remember, particularly when we’re having a tough time in love.

It has been – and remains to be – a real privilege to host the podcast. Not just because of the professional opportunities it has granted me, but because of how much doing it has taught me about love. As it transpires, I’m not the smug, slow-texting-no-social-media-stalking person I thought I was. I’m deeply anxious, insecure, and am still learning every day how to feel more at ease with myself. The person I always thought I’d be in love – cool, easy-going and collected – is completely different from who I actually am.

The way I think about love itself has changed drastically, too. Having had so many conversations with people who had fallen in and out of it before I had, I eventually learnt that it isn’t supposed to be so hard. Butterflies are exciting, and so is lust. But the intensity we attach to those things will fade over time, and in some cases, be replaced with dramatic arguments that are just as fiery, which is rarely a good thing.

Love should, in fact, feel relatively easy. Not always, because every good thing requires you to put some effort into it, but it shouldn’t make you feel constantly on edge. Nor should it keep you awake at night, checking when someone was “last active” on WhatsApp. Despite what some people say, the right person should not “keep you on your toes”. They should keep both of your feet flat on the ground, where they feel sturdy, safe, and totally supported. I just wish I’d learnt all this a little sooner. Because of course love isn’t like something from a film; it’s not supposed to be a fantasy. It’s supposed to be real, actually.

Millennial Love by Olivia Petter is published on 8 July with 4th Estate. Pre-order it here