I found myself in a heated discussion with someone in their forties last week when I proclaimed that I no longer believe seeking a committed relationship is worth my time or energy within the scope of modern dating. My cynical and abrasive statements on dating typically astound any coupled or married early millennial or Gen X’er I’m speaking to, even when I don’t mean for my commentary to have shock value. I’m not a pessimistic person — I just have no interest in holding back my despair and accumulated disappointment. I could go on a tangent about how wonderful and flirty and fun dating has been for me, but that would be too gracious of a lie. I also know for a fact that a large number of women my age feel the same way, whether they’ve openly proclaimed it or not.
I’m going to go into the following with a disclaimer that I’m a 25-year-old cis woman, I live in Western Europe, and date cis men — important to take into account before I start jumping to conclusions that may or may not apply to people across other demographics.
I have been dating for about 6 years now, meeting people mostly by virtue of dating apps (as any Gen Z’er would, but more on that later) with a few exceptions here and there. Of course, every situation differs, but the overall consensus is that I haven’t had the greatest time. Not all of it has been bad per se; I’ve had a couple of great relationships that just naturally ran their course. But I’m apprehensive about referring to my experience as good, healthy, or beneficial, and the things I’m about to say aren’t nice. Also, I’m going to be slightly mean to men, even though I do love them. Maybe a bit too much for my own good.
on dating apps
Dating apps are just one big pay-to-play circus. Having used them on and off for about 6 years, I’m starting to see why my mostly dull and flat journey hasn’t changed for the better or advanced in any meaningful way. It is ironic because you’d assume maturing from age 19 to age 25 includes a natural progression from zero to something greater than zero. Every other aspect of my life has evolved and grown in monumental ways within that time frame… except my experience with dating apps. It’s the same old song, a vicious cycle of putting yourself out there with childlike hope that maybe one of these days things will play out in my favor. It feels gimmicky to be on the apps, it feels gimmicky to judge people by little curated prompts and photos, and it most definitely feels gimmicky to go out with someone on a predetermined pass-or-fail verdict: at the end of the day, you either go home with them or never see them again. What kind of authentic connection can be built on a manufactured do-or-die foundation?
And the apps make it near impossible to quit them for good. Not surprising: they’re engineered in a way that makes us feel like the right person is just one swipe, one chat, one drink away. This, of course, turns into an addiction of its own and keeps you coming back. Make no mistake, your download-delete-download cycle has nothing to do with your shortcomings: keeping you hooked is in shareholders’ interest — daily & monthly active users (DAU & MAU) are some of the key metrics of software evaluation for a reason. The people behind Hinge, Tinder, and Bumble don’t care about your love life or your prospects of finding a partner, no matter how well they shield themselves behind good marketing and a user-centric manifesto. This hope/disappointment rollercoaster is deliberate, and it has taken a toll not just on me, but on a lot of beautiful, intelligent, and bright women in my life.
Don’t believe me? I used to work for a dating app and even wrote about it.
on hookups
Don’t get me wrong, I love me a bad girl rendezvous. And who doesn’t? We may not say it out loud, but there’s nothing like an occasional Uber ride home with a big smile on your face and makeup residue from the night before. Stories to tell and exaggerate over brunch. Oh, and writing material for ages. Hookups are fun, which is why it took me a few years to get off the treadmill. It wasn’t a sudden decision, but rather a gradual realization that I enjoyed the implication and context of an adventure more than the adventure itself. "I’m just having so much fun," I say to myself, "I’m such a Samantha," laying wide awake next to a guy who doesn’t care if I live or die tomorrow. Hookups are not only emotionally unsustainable and unfulfilling in the long run but dangerous from a health and safety perspective. We already knew this, though: anyone in tune with their feelings would tell you they’ve at least briefly experienced an aversion to the whole thing. Even with all the stigma withdrawn, hooking up with people you don’t (or barely) know feels instinctually wrong and reprehensible, and the health risks it poses are rarely worth it. I don’t care how progressive or conservative you are; the cons for women objectively outweigh the pros.
I noticed an interesting pattern: the men who exclusively advocate for and seek out casual sex (incl. the infamous ‘I’m just not looking for anything serious rn’) are, for the most part, not actualized or competent people. A lot of them suffer from Peter Pan syndrome, lack ambition and life direction, and struggle with an inadequate sense of self, dragging a whole lot of emotional baggage into their dating lives. Sure, it’s not their fault, but if you aren’t careful, you risk stooping to their level — and it will happen very quickly if you don’t pay attention. In the back of my mind, I always believed I was too good for hookup culture, and yet I took part anyway. Not sure whether out of loneliness, FOMO, or thanks to hormones — maybe all three. But every time I would let myself get tangled up in this scenario, viciously defending it with my ultra-liberal "I’m just an independent woman having fun," I would just end up in a zero-sum game, losing respect for myself and second-guessing my worth.
It took years to realize that the little “you’re too good for hookups!!” voice yelling at me didn’t stem from narcissism, hangover remorse, or fear — it was quite an adequate assessment upon seeing what those men are like, how they live, and what their values are, and comparing the aforementioned to myself. It was self-gaslighting and girlboss brainwashing that was keeping me in the loop, not my genuine needs and desires. Of course, hooking up or getting into a situationship is all fun and giggles when you’re 20, but it ceases to be glamorous and avant-garde at 25 — so I’ve opted out completely. Frankly, I noticed that the cravings for bad girl rendezvous go away pretty fast if you don’t give in at the first opportunity. Good riddance, I guess.
on dating under capitalism
Okay, so dating apps and hookups are out of the equation, now what? Ideally, a happenstance of running into a beautiful Le Labo-wearing man with an Ed Ruscha print and an impressive record collection somewhere in a semi-pretentious setting. We all want to meet someone naturally and allow for an organic evolvement and blossoming of a relationship, just how it’s supposed to be, don’t we? The problem is, this scenario is long gone for anyone existing in the real world abiding by real-world rules. Dating requires 1) time 2) opportunity, both of which capitalism has ruthlessly taken away from us.
Aren’t you fed up with the notion that meeting the right person offline is feasible? Some will tell you to take up a hobby because obviously, the stars will align and you’ll meet someone. Right, let’s dissect that incredibly realistic suggestion, often coming from people who haven’t been in the dating pool for a good decade. As an employed woman in 2024, I don’t know anyone in my circle with a hobby they partake in regularly enough to have the chance to meet somebody. How do I say this politely… we don’t have time for anything. I live alone and work a 9 to 5, come home around 6, and the rest of the little time and energy I have are spread out across my fundamental needs: cooking, cleaning, exercising, working on my projects, skincare, and sleeping.
Third places no longer exist. The cost of living crisis makes us feel like any time spent outside of work or side hustles is unproductive and futile. When I do have time to socialize, I prioritize catching up with friends. And dating coworkers is a no-no unless you want things to take an awkward turn real fast. Putting all of this together begs multiple questions: how, when, and where are we supposed to meet people IRL?
on men
It seems the conversation always revolves around attracting a man, as if that’s the hard part of the quest. Newsflash: pulling men is not hard. Dark femininity TikTok coaches and princess treatment dating gurus are teaching us the art of seduction and mystique — I wonder who their target audience is? Because I’ve never had a problem getting someone to take me out or sleep with me, and I don’t know any woman who has expressed struggling in that department. It’s the ability to discern the quality of those men that needs to be taught and explained to impressionable young women, not the attraction tactics.
And the quality is subpar. A lot of men can only meet you at the level they’ve met themselves, which is not a very advanced level. Their inability to see us as individuals worthy of respect is the cornerstone of patriarchy at large. They see you as an extension of themselves, a prized possession, an accessory, and sometimes a burden — and if you dare to exist outside of their perceived objectification framework, they will start acting out. Some get possessive, envious, and competitive. Some go ghost mode. Others will double down on making you miserable.
I struggle with finding a man whose emotional intelligence, integrity, intentions, and ability to pick up on social cues are on par with mine. Plus, most guys I meet are simply not interesting people. The last thing I plan to do is shrink myself or water down my lore to present as a more palatable and digestible woman, creating enough space for a man to feel comfortable around me. In the past, my lust for validation was strong enough to overlook the intrinsic character flaws of the men I dated, but as I grow older and gain a better perspective, those become so in your face impossible to ignore.
The worst part is that our reaction to mistreatment is blaming ourselves. In reality, the way men treat women has little to do with us: they’ll find a way to hurt even the ones they find smart, attractive, and competent. You can be the whole package, the purest virgin Mary and sexiest vixen of all, and still get done dirty. I’m deeply disturbed by all of it. I’ve worked hard to become the person I am today and create a life full of meaning and quality, and I have no desire to sacrifice it for someone who will not only reduce me to an object but ultimately create collateral damage in my life if I’m not adhering to their guidelines.
on the emotional toll
Put yourself out there, they say, what’s another bad date? Viewing modern dating as something fun and flirty and nonchalant, something that is performed “on the side” in one’s free time alongside bigger and better things perpetuates the idea that we should approach it with a casual attitude, no hard feelings involved, and nothing taken personally — the same way we approach our jobs. Don’t say too much, don’t text first, don’t display feelings — basically, don’t let them win. Some will tell you to be more strategic and cold-hearted for the sake of preserving your dignity. While I’m all for strategy and optimization, I’m not sure I agree with applying these principles to romantic endeavors. Sure, it might be useful to keep your guard up and not invest too much too soon, but my constitution isn’t one of a cold and calculated woman. I take dating seriously because I’m serious about everything I care for — an innate value not up for negotiation.
The idea that dating is casual and unserious enough for any bad date story to be reasoned as ‘part of the deal’ is harmful. The truth is, every new disappointment leaves a mark. I’m not just magically back to baseline each time I’m recovering from a breakup, ghosted by an air sign, or manipulated into something I never agreed to. Each time I get more cynical, more insecure, more cautious, and less eager to do it again. I could put myself out there more, but where does that get me? Hypothetically, I could go on a bender next week and schedule back-to-back dates with twenty people. Best case scenario, I’d end up drained, dysregulated, and upset. Worst case scenario, taken advantage of or assaulted. Do the risks not count simply because they’re theoretical? Why would I do the same thing over and over again hoping it might yield a different result eventually?
Skill issue, you may say. Fair enough. But maybe my distaste for approaching relationships with a hyper-independent individualist mindset that is nothing but mind games, strategic armor, and building a ‘roster’ comes from the fact that it’s all deeply… artificial. And if I have to play games or act emotionless to keep a man, I don’t want him.
on dating “up”
You’ve likely seen the movement inspired by the sprinkle-sprinkle lady, who advocates for dating for financial gain or social status because ‘that’s all men are good for’. Her popularity spreading like wildfire and resonating with women is understandable from an economic and social perspective: it’s a long overdue natural reaction to finding ourselves perplexed amidst the housing and cost of living crises. I get it — women are waking up to the fact we’ve been brainwashed into simultaneously taking on the role of both the breadwinner and the tradwife. And yeah, it’s obviously insane to expect women to go 50/50 yet abide by the patriarchy playbook. It’s unfair and unrealistic, and I won’t judge anybody for flipping the narrative and looking to date for profit. But the prevalence of this mindset, as well as the misunderstanding of what it entails make me a little concerned.
I have no desire to build a purely transactional relationship with a man because I don’t believe relying on a provider is a better use of my time than building the ability to provide for myself. Let me elaborate: being in relationships set up as arrangements is a lot of work and not a lot of safety. Whoever tells you otherwise is lying — or perhaps they themselves don’t see the emotional labor and taxation of it all. The thought of being wined and dined and flown out to Dubai by somebody I don’t particularly care for doesn’t excite me in the slightest (albeit nice in theory) because that would put me in a vulnerable tiptoeing position for a very questionable reward. Would it be nice for someone else to take care of my rent and bills, and upgrade to a more lavish lifestyle? Duh. But not at the cost of the implicit power dynamic where the man I’m dating has already deemed me inferior to him. I wish the sprinkle-sprinkle disciples would stop making us feel stupid for wanting an equal partnership, not a sugar daddy — because aspiring to equality in relationships is nothing but safeguarding against emotional, physical, and financial abuse. This isn’t pick-me behavior, it’s literal common sense.
on responsibility
I have been through it: dumped over the phone, ghosted, strung along as an option, dumped over text, blocked, unblocked, gaslit, cheated on, involved with someone diligently hiding they were taken, used, and more. Those who hurt me have moved onto the next woman with ease, and with no consequences for the damage caused. Why? Because there are no repercussions for hurting people in modern dating. Out of sight out of mind, or whatever.
You might be reading all of this and feeling seen, or you might be thinking: has she ever considered she was the problem? Yes, I have. And I’m sure I’ve been the villain too. A big chunk of my experience can be attributed to my shortfalls — my attraction to the wrong people, my earnest tendency to see love as a quest (aka the more complex the better) and not a mutual partnership, and childhood dynamics that have been addressed in therapy. I take partial, and in some cases full responsibility for ending up in those situations in the first place. But all of that doesn’t negate the fact that dating in 2024 is terrible, and placing the blame on individual actions is addressing the symptoms, not the problem.
We are struggling and hurting on a collective level, and no amount of therapy and self-reflection can heal us out of a broken society with no respect for one another. When feelings are disregarded, casualty is celebrated, big tech is feeding on people’s loneliness and lack of communities, and individuals are viewed as options, “looking within” and healing yourself seems futile.
on missing out
As of today, I love my life too much to continue injuring myself in the insanity of modern dating. I still long for partnership and commitment the same way I did at 19, but my active search has turned into passive observance. I can’t risk trading my already fulfilling and comfortable singlehood for a partner who doesn’t meet my standards, and I don’t believe in lowering my expectations. And yes, this mindset might be costing me time, as I’m sure I’ve already “missed out” on a myriad of potential relationships — and I’m not getting any younger. But I’m not looking for hookups, a sugar daddy, or being a grown man’s babysitter or therapist. From what I’ve experienced so far, it seems as if those are the only options left, and they all make me equally nauseous. So am I really missing out, or am I dodging bullets left and right?
I believe we’re all innately driven by love and connection, but modern dating has destroyed our ability to seek and create healthy attachments. Contaminated by loneliness, lack of responsibility and repercussions for inflicting pain, existential anxiety, misplaced hunger for freedom from the crushing weight of capitalism manifesting as people’s inability to commit, and some seriously emotionally dysregulated and unstable people having the same access to dating apps as the rest of us, the dating pool is only good for drowning.
I’m not taking a definitive stance on any of what I said above. I’m only human, and might download another app or hit up an ex if I get bored or lonely enough. My unwavering hope and desire for love and companionship will long outlive my icky experiences in dating. But until we address the underlying pain and fear, broken means of connection, and dysfunctional hyperindividualist dynamics, as well as acknowledge that the answer isn’t to swipe a few more times or sleep with a few more people, it’s unlikely that we will magically start having a better time.
Don’t forget to honor your singlehood, and be smart out there.
with reticence,
Valerie
I'm 30 and I shall say it doesn't get worse, but the picture painted is pretty much the same. Resonated with every single word here.