When “Breeding Kink” Sounds Hotter Than “Marriage”: How Gen Z Is Rebranding Monogamy
To Gen Z, few things feel more cringe than dusty old words like “marriage,” “monogamy,” or, god forbid, “settling down.” In a world where everything is up for renegotiation, even the way we talk about sex, love, and commitment has gotten a glow-up… or at least, a kinkification.
Gallup reports that more than one in five Gen Z adults identifies as LGBTQ+. But even that label is starting to feel a bit... limiting. Forget lesbian, gay, or bisexual, the real party is under the glittering disco ball of terms like pansexual, queer, demi, and same-gender-loving. If it sounds slightly enigmatic and requires a Google search, congratulations, you’re probably doing it right.
But here’s the kicker: even Gen Zers who don’t wave the rainbow flag full-time are finding creative ways to remix how they define their desires. Wanting to be a mom or dad? Yawn. Having a breeding kink? Now that’s edgy. As the singer Grimes deadpanned to Time, “I was talking to some Gen Z the other day, and she’s like, ‘I have a breeding kink.’ And I’m like… you might just want to get married and have kids. That was normal until pretty recently.”
In other words, domesticity is fine—as long as you frame it like a fetish.
Kinks, after all, are having a cultural moment. Gen Z’s favorite chaos-pop princess Chappell Roan dropped a hit called “My Kink is Karma,” where revenge, not rope, is the fantasy. Meanwhile, social media is littered with posts like, “My ultimate sexual fantasy is to annoy a man so much that he falls in love with me,” racking up six-figure likes because, well… relatable.
Even the most vanilla of impulses—I’d like to actually know someone before they see me naked—has been repackaged as its own sexual orientation: demisexuality. The American Psychological Association has signed off, Merriam-Webster defines it, and Tinder has a box for it. In plain English? You’re only into sex if you’re into the person. In internet speak? It’s a whole identity now.
British pop star Tulisa calls herself “proper guarded” and proudly flew the demi flag last year, announcing that after three years of celibacy, “I need actual depth. I’m a slow, slow burner.” She’s far from alone. Across the internet, people are realizing that hookup culture isn’t always delivering the thrills it promised. As one young woman confessed to Refinery29, “I saw all my friends getting with strangers. The idea of touch with someone I didn’t know didn’t feel particularly appealing.”
Honestly? Mood.
Despite what the swipe apps would have us believe, Gen Z isn’t exactly swimming in sex. In fact, rates of sexual activity are dropping. The “celibacy chic” trend is so real that when Bumble tried to roast women for not putting out, the backlash was swift—and delicious.
So what’s a horny-but-disillusioned generation supposed to do? Well, God forbid anyone admit they just want a stable relationship. The word “monogamy” feels… Republican-adjacent. “Marriage” sounds like something your Boomer aunt posts about on Facebook. But call it a kink? Suddenly it’s empowering.
You’re not a prude for wanting to know someone’s middle name before swapping fluids. You’re a demisexual queen. You don’t have a boring desire for a nuclear family—you have a breeding kink. Slap some leather straps and political theory on it, and suddenly it’s subversive.
Of course, not everyone’s buying it. Dan Savage, never one to hold his tongue, once roasted the demisexual label by saying, “We used to call people who needed a strong emotional bond before f—ing... people who needed a strong emotional bond before f—ing.” But seven syllables and a clinical-sounding term? Clearly, that’s sexier.
And yet, Grimes might be onto something. As she told Time, “People are pretty spiritually lost. A lot of people are filling this need for moral authority with politics, which is leading to a lot of chaos, in my opinion.”
After decades of being sold on the idea that endless sexual freedom would make us free, Gen Z is realizing the fine print is... kinda messy. As Rethinking Sex author Christine Emba points out, when “sex is always on the table and the etiquette around it is unclear, genuinely low-stakes, positive encounters feel more and more out of reach.” Translation: When everything’s casual, nothing feels casual.
The choices are bleak. You can embrace the “zipless f—” that the ’70s once glamorized and hope it doesn’t leave you emptier than your Uber ride home. Or you can opt out entirely, join Julia Fox and the ever-growing squad of celibate cool girls who are finding that “none” is sometimes the sexiest number of partners.
But for those who still crave intimacy, there’s a loophole. Just don’t say “wife”—say “partner in crime with a shared breeding kink.” Don’t say “I’m saving myself.” Say “I’m demisexual, babe.” Suddenly, you’re not regressive. You’re revolutionary.
As writer Louise Perry notes in The Case Against the Sexual Revolution, “The sexual revolution has not freed all of us. It has freed some of us, selectively, and at a price.” And Gen Z? They’re doing the math—and realizing the bill has come due.
But here’s the hopeful twist: maybe dressing monogamy up as a kink is just the first step toward realizing that wanting connection, stability, and maybe even a couple of chaotic toddlers is not a moral failure—it’s just hot now.
