“I never wanted to be your weekend lover…” croons Prince in Purple Rain, arguably one of his most iconic tracks (feel free to fight me on that). But thanks to TikTok and the Stranger Things finale, the song is having a second life, much like how a previous season of the show reignited Kate Bush’s Running Up That Hill — and yes, real Bushheads never left the moors.
When the algorithm started serving me video after video of people admitting they’d been Weekend Lovers — often complete with embarrassing text threads as evidence — I was forced to confront an uncomfortable truth: I was one of them. I had been a Weekend Lover.
Only I’d never be able to make a post like that. I’d have far too many slides to include. This was the norm for me back in the day. Too often, I’ve been someone’s Weekend Lover, but not anymore.
What is the Weekend Lover trend?
Most people are using the audio to reference a casual relationship in which they were relegated to the role of a Weekend Lover. The format is simple: a photo of the person, followed by a text thread in which they’re thoroughly — and I mean thoroughly — disrespected. Usually, the situationship insists they feel nothing while still very much wanting to hook up.
It can be about only seeing one another on the weekend, but more broadly, a Weekend Lover is someone relegated to a small part of your life, a time-sensitive fling that will never be introduced to their friends.
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For some, the trend acts as a “then versus now” comparison, showing how a once-casual connection turned into a serious, committed relationship. For others — like me — it sparks a more sobering realisation: wow, I really let myself be treated badly… do I have any self-respect?
Not everyone is on board. “I would rather eat a pair of jeans than post the ‘Weekend Lover’ trend,” creator Alice (@aliceyyg) said on TikTok. “Why would you want a digital footprint of that?”
But I’ve never shied away from oversharing online. I genuinely believe it’s one of the few ways to make people feel a little less alone. So yes, I’ll tell you about my past as a Weekend Lover, and why I’m never going back.
I've always been a Weekend Lover
As a teenager, I always felt hot enough to hook up with, but not hot enough to be bragged about. Sneaky, drunken kisses — fuelled by neon-coloured drinks — were always kept secret. I was seeing a guy friend for a while, and we kept it quiet. It wasn’t until he loudly bragged to a whole party that he was hooking up with the most popular girl in our year — not me — that I realised something uncomfortable: it hadn’t been my idea to keep things secret, yet somehow I’d been led to believe it was.
At university, I thought things might finally be different. My taste in men hadn’t changed, though. Not interested in me? Wow, incredible taste—I might be in love with you. There was the guy who only messaged when he hadn’t found anyone else that night. The one who spent an entire Sunday in bed with me watching the Batman trilogy, only to tell me another woman was “The kind of girl you marry, not just the girl you f*ck,” making painfully clear which category I fell into. He started dating her a week later.
There were exceptions, of course: women who behaved just as poorly as men, or the rare few who stuck around a little longer. But over the decade and a half since I first became sexually active, a pattern emerges: I have a tendency to become a Weekend Lover.
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“We accept the love we think we deserve,” every Millennial has quoted from The Perks of Being a Wallflower. It’s corny, but it’s true.
I accepted being a Weekend Lover because I didn’t feel worthy of someone’s time or energy. I allowed myself to be a dirty secret because, deep down, I felt like one. I couldn’t understand why someone would want to share their life with me beyond fumbling hookups. Why would anyone want to see me without sex involved? Why would someone care about my work? Why would a quick coffee with me be worth a detour in their day?
The people who proved me wrong didn’t matter; it was the ones who proved me right that stuck. I had an anxious attachment style to untangle and self-worth that barely existed. If I was going to stop being a Weekend Lover, something had to change.
How I stopped being a Weekend Lover
Last January, I was dumped by someone I’d been seeing for three months… via text message. That was the moment I knew something had to change. My instinct was to redownload the apps and find someone, anyone, to dull the sting. But on some level, I recognised it as a turning point. I was at a crossroads, and for the first time, I could choose better.
So I didn’t redownload the dating apps. Instead, I switched my phone off and did a two-day digital detox in a tiny cabin, with only a dog for company. I read romantasy novels, did paint-by-numbers, went on long walks and became weirdly obsessed with keeping the fireplace going (it’s harder than it looks).
When I came back, I actually started doing the work. I listened to every audiobook on attachment styles and dating I could get my hands on—and I stayed off the apps. I discovered The Sabrina Zohar Show and binge-listened to the entire podcast. She was refreshingly honest about self-sabotage, and it hit me: that’s exactly what I’d been doing.
I reached out to her while writing an article, and she offered to send me her Break Up Course. I completed the whole thing. I felt like I'd chugged ten emotional coffees at once.
What's a dating expert's advice for Weekend Lovers?
So it felt only fitting that I asked Sabrina Zohar, host of The Sabrina Zohar Show and dating expert, for advice on Weekend Lovers. In the end, she loved the topic so much that she went away and made an additional TikTok about it.
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I asked Zohar what the signs are that you’re a Weekend Lover.
“You’re constantly available for someone who only makes room for you in the margins of their life," Zohar shares. "You get the Friday night ‘you up?’ text but never the Tuesday ‘How was your day?’ You’re never integrated into their actual world—you haven’t met their friends, you’re not their plus-one to work events, you don’t exist in their day-to-day.
"And the biggest sign? You’re rearranging your entire schedule around breadcrumbs while telling yourself it’s ‘casual’ or that they’re ‘just busy.’ Deep down, you know you want more, but you’re afraid that asking for it means losing them entirely. So you settle into this holding pattern, convincing yourself that some of them is better than none of them.”
For me, it looked like being left on read for days while I felt nauseous at the thought. It meant avoiding weekend plans in case they wanted to see me, then scrambling to make my existing plans sound cooler so I didn’t appear pathetic.
Breaking the cycle isn’t easy, and it isn’t just a digital detox.
“First, you have to get honest about what you actually want—not what you think you can get, not what feels ‘safe’ to want, but what you genuinely need from a relationship,” Zohar explains. “Most Weekend Lovers are people-pleasers who’ve learned to shrink their needs to avoid rejection. Breaking the cycle means recognising that your availability isn’t the same as your value.
"Start by paying attention to your actions: Are you initiating every plan? Are you accepting less than you’d advise your best friend to accept? Then practice tolerating the discomfort of boundaries. The first time you say, ‘I’m looking for something more consistent,’ and they fade out, it’s going to sting—but that sting is information. It tells you they were never going to meet you where you needed to be met.”
Look, I’m still not great at dating. I still find myself pining after someone who doesn’t want me. But I’m not a Weekend Lover anymore. I’ll get dumped, sure, but I won’t be waiting around for the weekend. You deserve an open door into someone’s life, and to be seen for all of you.
Women don't owe you happy.
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