Is the 10 overrated? Why Gen Z is choosing 6-7s in dating and calling it growth

Modern dating used to be simple. You liked someone. They liked you back. You either rode into the sunset or dramatically blocked each other. Now? Dating feels like a group project where half the class is ghosting and the other half is “not ready for anything serious but open to seeing where it goes”.

Between soft launches, situationships, breadcrumbing and emotional unavailability disguised as mystery, Gen Z has decided to audit romance. And thus was born the 6-7 dating trend.



The concept is brutally straightforward. Instead of chasing a heart-racing, playlist-inspiring “10”, Gen Z is intentionally choosing a solid 6 or 7.

Not average. Not boring. Just… stable.

A 6-7 is emotionally available. They reply on time. They do not treat communication like a side quest. They can apologise without weaponising the phrase “I am sorry you feel that way”. They are the relationship equivalent of a reliable hatchback. Maybe not flashy, but you are not stranded on the motorway at midnight questioning your life choices.

Importantly, the numbers are not just about physical attractiveness. This is not the United Nations of Hotness handing out ratings. The scale measures the whole package: emotional intelligence, values, effort, consistency, and whether they can handle conflict without vanishing into the Bermuda Triangle of “space”.



In the 6-7 universe, the mythical 10 often symbolises chaos. The 10 sends poetic late-night messages but disappears for three business days. The 10 makes you feel electrified and mildly unstable at the same time. The 10 is thrilling, cinematic and terrible for your cortisol levels.

Many young adults are simply exhausted.

A 23-year-old professional in Mumbai explained that she no longer craves butterflies if they come with anxiety. After dating someone she considered a “10”, she admitted that while the relationship created dramatic memories, it also created sleepless nights. Peace now ranks higher than intensity.

Similarly, a 21-year-old MBA student in Bengaluru suggested that choosing a 6-7 is about risk management. In his view, a steady partner is less likely to derail your emotional life. That, apparently, is the new romantic standard.

This is not cynicism. It is self-preservation.



The rise of the 6-7 trend is closely linked to app culture. When everyone is a swipe away, commitment begins to feel optional. The illusion of infinite choice makes it harder to invest in one person. Romance becomes gamified. Attention becomes currency.

In this environment, the 6-7 represents rebellion.

Instead of chasing fantasy chemistry, the trend asks a radical question: what if love is not supposed to feel like a rollercoaster? What if it is supposed to feel like steady Wi-Fi?

Gen Z grew up on films that equated love with chaos. Grand gestures. Miscommunication. Rain-soaked confessions. Emotional extremes presented as proof of passion. The 6-7 dating philosophy quietly rejects that narrative.

It reframes love as something built on communication, shared values and showing up consistently. Not adrenaline spikes.



There is something deeply practical about this shift. Relationships built on mutual respect and emotional availability are statistically more sustainable. They are less likely to combust under pressure.

Choosing a 6-7 means prioritising long-term compatibility over short-term thrill. It means asking whether this person can sit with you in boredom without imploding. Whether they can navigate disagreement without turning it into a courtroom drama.

For a generation openly discussing therapy, boundaries and mental health, stability feels aspirational.

Peace is trending.



Here is where things get complicated.

Attraction still matters. Desire matters. Curiosity matters. A relationship cannot survive on shared Google calendars and polite affection alone.

When you consciously enter a relationship labelling someone as a 6-7, there is a risk of emotional detachment. You may respect them deeply but not feel magnetically drawn to them. Over time, admiration can morph into polite companionship.

There is also the issue of imbalance. If one partner senses they were selected primarily because they are safe rather than genuinely desired, resentment can creep in. No one wants to feel like the sensible choice instead of the wanted one.

Intensity is not love. But the complete absence of spark is not love either.

The 6-7 dating trend is less about numerical ratings and more about emotional recalibration. It reflects a generation trying to unlearn the idea that suffering equals romance.

It is an attempt to choose partners who regulate rather than destabilise. To value communication over mystery. To prioritise effort over aesthetic.

At its best, the trend encourages people to examine why they equate chaos with chemistry. It challenges the belief that passion must hurt to be meaningful.



At its worst, it risks encouraging emotional compromise under the guise of maturity.

The real takeaway is not that you should avoid 10s or exclusively pursue 6-7s. It is that compatibility, shared values and emotional presence deserve as much attention as spark.

Gen Z is not killing romance. It is giving it a performance review.

And for the first time in a long time, love is being graded on reliability, not drama.