What Is Frankensteining in Dating? The Toxic 2026 Trend Explained

What "Frankensteining" actually means

The name comes straight from Frankenstein's monster — a figure assembled from other people's parts. In dating, it means exactly that: trying to mold or change your partner's appearance, interests, and habits to better fit what you believe to be your ideal partner.

The term hit the headlines in mid-October 2026, when UNILAD reported on an interview marriage and family therapist Sara Sloan gave to VICE. "Frankensteining is something that has always been an issue in dating," Sloan said — the behavior is old; only the label is new. According to the therapist, it most commonly surfaces "as the new relationship energy wears off": rather than accept the real person in front of them — or face breaking up and re-entering the dating world — some people quietly start renovating their partner instead. "It can feel easier to Frankenstein your partner into something that fits your ideal," Sloan noted.

What makes it toxic isn't the desire for a good relationship. It's that the love starts attaching to an imaginary person — while the real person gets edited.

8 signs Frankensteining is happening

Sloan gave one razor-sharp self-test in the interview: "One way to notice if you are Frankensteining your partner is if you are thinking, 'If they would only (fill in the blank), it would be so much better.'" That mental sentence is the engine of the whole pattern. Here are the signs it has leaked out into behavior:

• The style overhaul. You buy them clothes completely different from what they normally wear — not as a gift, but to create a different look. As Sloan put it, "If you're buying your partner new clothes that are completely different from what they normally wear to create a different style, you're Frankensteining your partner."
• The appearance upgrade campaign. Asking them to change their hair color, fitness routine, or grooming habits "for both of you" — when the change clearly serves only your ideal. One-off suggestions happen in every relationship; a rolling list of physical renovations is a project.
• The hobby recruitment drive. "If you insist they join you in hobbies that you enjoy and they do not, you're Frankensteining your partner," Sloan said. Sharing interests is wonderful. Requiring them to adopt yours isn't sharing — it's cloning.
• The "if only" sentence runs constantly. "If they were just more outgoing." "If they dressed better." "If they liked my friends." Occasional wishes are human; a standing mental rewrite list is the blueprint for a different person.
• You compare them to the draft in your head. When you catch yourself evaluating your actual partner against the version you fell in love with — or against someone else's partner, or a rom-com character — you're dating the ideal, not the person.
• Their autonomy is shrinking. Little by little, their choices (what they wear, who they see, how they spend Saturday) start needing your approval. This is the part Sloan warns about most directly: Frankensteining is "a way to control them, by attempting to change who they are physically, mentally, or emotionally."
• They feel like a project, not a partner. If you're tracking their "progress" — praising improvements, sighing at backslides — you've stopped being a boyfriend/girlfriend and become a manager.
• You avoid the real conversation. Underneath the renovations is usually a fear: if I accept who they actually are, I might have to admit this isn't right. The makeover becomes a way to dodge that reckoning.

Frankensteining vs. genuinely supporting someone

Not all change in a relationship is toxic — partners influence each other all the time. The difference is in who the change is for, and who chooses it:

A quick rule of thumb: "Can we communicate more clearly about plans?" is a request. "Can you just be a different person?" is a renovation project. The first one has a finish line. The second one doesn't.

If you want a reality check on where you actually stand, our free compatibility quiz can help you map your real values against your partner's — which is a far better use of your energy than a renovation plan.

Why it always backfires

Frankensteining fails for the same reason any control strategy fails in relationships: it trades the relationship for the project.

• It kills authenticity. A partner who is constantly being edited learns to perform instead of be themselves. You end up with someone who looks right and feels wrong — because the wrong-feeling part is the performance.
• It breeds resentment both ways. The renovated partner resents being treated as raw material; the renovator resents that the "finished product" never quite arrives. Both people lose.
• It avoids the decision that actually needs making. As Sloan pointed out, the pattern kicks in when new-relationship energy fades and breaking up feels scary. Editing a partner is a delay tactic, not a solution — and the underlying mismatch doesn't get fixed by a new haircut.
• Control dressed up as love is still control. "I'm just trying to help you be your best self" is a sentence worth auditing. If their "best self" looks suspiciously like your ex, a celebrity, or a checklist — that's not support. That's design.

How to stop — whether you're doing it or it's being done to you

Sloan's core advice is disarmingly simple: let your partner "maintain their autonomy." "Allow them to be different than you, or different than your ideal." Here is how that translates into practice:

• Name the "if only" sentence. Next time you think "if they would only ___," say it out loud to yourself. Hearing it in your own voice usually reveals how much of it is about you, not them.
• Separate the dealbreakers from the preferences. Some things genuinely matter (kindness, reliability, shared life goals). Most Frankensteining energy goes to preferences (style, hobbies, taste in music). Write both lists honestly — and delete the second one from your renovation plans.
• Ask, don't assign. There's a world of difference between "I'd love it if you came to trivia night sometime" and "You need to be more social." Invitations respect autonomy; verdicts don't.
• Grieve the ideal. The hardest step. Somewhere you're holding a picture of the "perfect" partner — and comparing a real human to it. Letting the picture go is the actual work; everything else is technique.
• If it's happening to you: name it calmly. "I feel like you're trying to change who I am rather than accept me" is a sentence worth saying once, clearly. Then watch. A good partner hears it and stops the project. A partner who keeps renovating after you've drawn the line has told you everything.

The takeaway

Frankensteining didn't become a trending term because it's rare — Sloan says it's always been around. It trended because the name finally gave people language for a feeling they'd had for years: they don't love me; they love the person they're turning me into. The antidote isn't lowering your standards. It's aiming them at the right target — the real person across from you, not the assembly waiting in your head. Love the person, or admit you don't. Anything in between is just construction.