Gentle readers, it’s time to hike up your petticoats, reach for your favourite vibrator, and settle in for season four of Bridgerton. Because let’s finally admit it: we are deeply, unashamedly hot for Regency romance.
From The Buccaneers to Bridgerton, 100 Nights of Hero to “Wuthering Heights”, period dramas are having a serious moment. Whether it’s the painfully restrained small talk, the simmering tension, or the many, many layers that must be removed, we simply can’t get enough of a corseted love story.
Maybe it’s the fact that everyone’s dating IRL, at balls and chaperoned walks, rather than over a screen. That men are baring their souls in heart‑shattering monologues, declaring they “burn” for us, instead of sending a text about how they’re “too busy with fantasy football to date right now.”
But does that passion end when the credits roll, or are we carrying it into our own romantic lives? Has the rise of Regency romance started to influence how we date, flirt, and fall in love? Because honestly, if I receive one more “U up?” text, I may consign myself to spinsterhood and take up embroidery immediately.
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Why are we so hot for Regency romance?
At its core, Regency romances are the opposite of what we’re “supposed” to find sexy. Very little skin is bared — although those push-up bras and empire necklines are doing the Lord’s work — and touching is generally off-limits. Obviously, shows like Bridgerton and The Buccaneers do include some pre-marital coitus, because let’s be honest, they’ve got hours of showtime and a very horny audience to please.
But at their core, shouldn’t we be craving romances with less fabric and more than the occasional graze of a hand? Nah, bestie.
“Regency romances tend to centre on an aspirational version of love and partnership that many feel is missing from today’s dating world," explains Emma Hathorn, Seeking's Relationship Expert. "The rituals of traditional courtship, whilst typically fraught with classism and other societal divides, frame romantic desire through a language of devotion, yearning and emotional intensity, which is undoubtedly appealing both in the literary context and in real life.”
There’s no doubt that 2025 was the Year of Yearning, most notably through Conrad in The Summer I Turned Pretty — a very non-Regency romance. But the thought still holds: we love caught gazes and the brush of fingers over actual heavy petting. We’ve all had someone drunkenly fumble while searching for the clit, we've all been made to feel like just a body and nothing more. What we really want is to be a soul existing in a body, a soul caught by someone else’s.
“Narratives such as Bridgerton and Wuthering Heights ultimately allow us to maintain the belief that true love will win over adversity with its transformative power," continues Hathorn.
As someone who has clung to exes far longer than I should’ve, I get it. I get the urge to believe in the love story — even if our hurdles are his avoidant attachment style and fear of commitment, and not classism, WW1 or a betrothal to a foreign prince. Call it Sunk Cost Fallacy, call it delusion, but we all want to believe it’ll be worth it in the end, that the nights spent crying on the bathroom floor will be omitted from the love story we recount to our great-grandkids.
"We want to put the ‘main character’ energy back into the romantic quest for our users, moving away from passive, disengaged dating," Hathorn explains.
Love them or hate them, dating apps are a fixture in our relationship landscape — for now, at least. And nothing feels more disheartening than being reduced to a profile, endlessly waiting for that silly little icon to pop up. It’s tough to feel like the main character when swiping through a sea of faces, and right now, the dating world is leaving us all feeling disengaged — with our partners, and even with ourselves.
Are we applying these stories to our own love lives?
Are Regency romances a distraction from our bleak dating landscape, or a footprint? We watch Heated Rivalry with pleasure, but we’re not suddenly rushing off to ice hockey games or jumping into threesomes with two men. So what are we actually taking from period dramas?
According to Hathorn, they’re showing us that it’s okay to be selective.
“The rise of online dating has also encouraged people to be more explicit than ever about their dos and don’ts in a partner," Hathorn explains. "This emphasis on intentionality aligns with the regency focus on finding a ‘suitable’ match.”
“With Seeking, a good match goes beyond the ordinary and is defined by shared values, lifestyle, career ambitions and long-term goals, as well as something more simple: the idea that dating should sweep you off your feet.”
Perhaps it’s the hardships the characters endure, and the way they defy family and societal expectations to follow the unruly path of true love, that inspires us to aim a little higher in our own romantic lives.
But don’t period romances also teach us the opposite…? Aren’t there characters who settle just to avoid singledom, or because this is the only man they’ve ever had unsupervised time with?
I see the lessons of period romances linking directly to the rise of the Princess Treatment — the way women are unapologetically starting to ask for more chivalry in relationships. You can even see it in the discourse around Materialists, and how women are beginning to prioritise money in dating — who picks up the tab? Will their career trajectory support you long-term? This is very Regency-coded: dowries and wealth were pivotal in courtship. Only now, instead of viscounts on horseback, we have Finance Bros riding the Northern line.
“Daters are asking the key question here: why shouldn’t I have everything I’d hoped for?” Hathorn shares.
Exactly. Why shouldn’t we?
How can we hold onto the good without the bad?
We’d be remiss not to acknowledge the aspects of Regency dating that really, really need to stay in the past. Yes, we’re glorifying dance cards and grand poetic declarations, but let’s not forget that women were considered property, passed around at the mercy of husbands, with no real power beyond their suitability to men. And let’s not even start on the racism, which Bridgerton is thankfully challenging with its BIPOC casts. Queer dating? It’s a relief to see LGBTQ+ storylines in Bridgerton and The Buccaneers, though there’s a bitter reminder that individuals like myself wouldn’t have had the freedom to love openly back then.
And let’s not forget that Penelope Featherington was basically considered a spinster already, which made me take a hard look at my 29-year-old self, someone who would never be a Sparkling Diamond. That terror of hitting your late twenties? It belongs on-screen, not in real life. We’re embracing different timelines, chasing our ambitions and rewriting what it means to have a happily-ever-after on our own terms.
Hathorn agrees that we need to draw a clear line between chivalry and control:
“It is important that anyone in dating or a longer term partnership feels both equality and autonomy - but there is still absolutely a place for chivalry, whether that be through thoughtful acts, behaviours or gifts. It’s about romance playing a tangible part in your relationship without the downside of the controlling power dynamics.”
“There’s something freeing about engaging with sexual content that isn’t directly projecting expectations onto women’s bodies or behaviour.”

Beyond the corsets and ballroom drama, Regency fantasies can actually reinforce modern ideas of consent, empowerment and self-worth, if we read them the right way. The slow burn of courtship reminds us that desire should be mutual, that “no” is non-negotiable, and that your value isn’t just measured by attention from a suitor. In other words, we can enjoy the swooning and longing without ever compromising our agency — and maybe even take a little inspiration for demanding the romance (and respect) we deserve in real life.
“Hit shows such as Bridgerton make this distinction clear by adopting a critical and self-aware approach to the Regency setting,” Hathorn continues. "By foregrounding female desire and questioning patriarchal norms, the genre can preserve emotional intensity while rejecting the values that once constrained it. These Regency romances are fictional, and that fiction is shaped by the female gaze. It’s a fantasy of pretend; it doesn’t automatically require modern-day feminist messaging, rather just an awareness that it’s historical and the gender norms are outdated.”
Basically, let’s be inspired by some of the ideals, but let’s not do a copy-and-paste job on Regency romance. We’ve got enough issues with the rise of tradwives; we don’t need Victorian wives making a comeback. But whether you enjoy period dramas as a distraction from a failed situationship, for curling up with your boyfriend and dropping some heavy hints, or after a day of being a corporate girlie in the city, we wish you the most enjoyable watching experience, gentle readers.
We know who will get their love story in seasons 5 and 6!




