Soren

Modern dating. A plague in the minds of many. We’ve gone from “going steady”, to mind games, “situationships”, and now we’ve taken the express train to dating like we’re all afraid of being arrested—because, clearly, commitment is a criminal offense.

Somewhere along the way, everyone got scared. Not quietly scared—performatively scared. Scared enough to build entire personalities centered around not caring… because caring became the most embarrassing thing you could do. Enter the nonchalant clique: emotionally available in theory, allergic to it in practice.

But dating is supposed to be easier. Dating apps were supposed to help facilitate easier dating.

But we’re human.

We fuck things up one way or another.

Exhibit A: The Illusion of “Options”

Suddenly no one was real. Everyone was a profile. Part of an algorithm. A static image, a looping video, the same four lines of text and about 5 hashtags describing the inanimate object on the other side of the specially curated gallery. Yes, my dearest Tinder user, you are an avatar—a fake—on everyone else’s screen.

We suddenly managed to find ourselves in a world where liking someone based on their body or face is “shallow”, but somehow those same two things are okay on an app because we can also throw up a little blurb of forgotten, unchanging text. 10/10 logic, because it obviously makes perfect sense to know whether or not you like someone when your best shot at guessing is deciding if you like their face or the amount of effort they put into a “200 character or less” bio.

But now everyone thinks they have options because they’ve matched with 40 people on Bumble and “99+” on Tinder. When do we get the update where these apps tell you how many other people your newest match is talking to?

Exhibit B: The Performative Vulnerability Era

But there are people who do realise that the whole “your bio is your personality” thing doesn’t work well… and when we go on dates, we over-correct. We weaponise self-awareness as a shield. We’re “emotionally intelligent” now—except that emotional intelligence means nothing if it’s never used to build anything.

Everyone talks about their “attachment style”, trauma dumps on the third date, and posts sad Instagram stories, but no one follows through with actual intimacy. Not sex. Intimacy.

Essentially, we’ve become really good at sounding emotionally available without actually being available. It’s like lighting a candle and snuffing it out immediately, and then pretending that the smoke and heat from the wick counts as it still being on fire.

Exhibit C: Bread-crumbing & Emotional Snacking

So with no actual intimacy, we now get crumbs.

A good morning text here.

A long, bullshitted paragraph pulled straight out of the small intestine when guilt hits.

Maybe a forehead kiss if the Super Blue Moon’s in Gemini.

But don’t get it twisted—it’s not love. It’s emotional snacking. And you’re not full. You’re being rationed.

It’s become a sort of custom to give someone just enough affection to keep them around but not enough to truly commit—love bombing on a smaller scale. Being “mysterious” is the goal, and no one knows when exactly to drop the act. But some don’t want to drop the act… ever. Because some just want the perks of a relationship without the effort. It’s like a glorified friend with benefits, but with less sex and more mind games.

Exhibit D: The ‘We’ Illusion

Here’s the thing though; some people are simply evil. Some give you all of the vulnerability, all of the consistency, and all of the effort… just to make the simulation feel more real.

I started using “we” because you let me. Because you acted like “we”. Because you said “we”. Because the silence between your actions and your words was loud enough to write a novel. Because the performance you put on was titled “We”, and the “love” you played looked like “we”.

Because I thought “we” were something real. Because I thought love was a mutual hallucination you chose to keep feeding. But while I was building a future, you were building an inferno that even Dante would be inspired to take notes on.

“We” Was A Lie, But I Wasn’t

And when you’re gone and moved on to the next collectable homosapien, I will be left to pick up my own pieces. To rebuild alone. To seek comfort elsewhere. To long for what could’ve.

The energy required to become aware of and untangle yourself from an illusion you helped paint is devastating. It costs so much time and effort. It feels like carrying around the weight of a building on your back, praying you don’t lose strength. And in the end, nothing can undo the roots that an experience like this can plant. The grief… grief of losing them—and yourself. The embarrassment. The “How could I be so stupid?”. “How could I have fallen for this?”.

But This Isn’t Just My Story

The worst part about it is that I’m not special. There are thousands of us walking around with “we” tattooed in our minds, while the other half of “we” was only ever thinking “you’re fun to pass time with”.

Emotional laziness is now culturally normalised. People now say “I don’t do labels” like it’s a personality trait. We keep accepting low-effort affection because we’ve been taught it’s better than nothing. Because “at least you have someone” even if that someone is on a timer.

And yet we keep falling for it.

Because we want to believe. Because being wanted—even briefly—feels better than being alone. Because “maybe” is one hell of a drug. And because even fake love still feels like love when you’re touch-starved and lonely.

But despite how many times we fall for it, it’s never actually our fault. Because you didn’t ask to play a game, you asked to be held. Seen. Loved.

So next time, if you want a situationship, say so before I build an entire fucking altar to us.

P.S.: Love isn’t supposed to feel like waiting for someone to choose you back. It’s supposed to feel like home.

Glossary of Modern Dating Bullshit, For Your Convenience

“I’m not ready for anything serious.”

Translation: “I’m ready to waste your time with the emotional intensity and the benefits (physical and the like) of being in a relationship, but none of the labels or accountability.”

“Let’s see where things go!”

Translation: “I will never intentionally go anywhere, but I’ll enjoy the free emotional energy, effort, time, and consideration you put into me while you hope otherwise.

“I need space.”

Translation: “I’m either (a) slow-fading you, (b) dating someone else, (c) bored of you, or (d) waiting for you to break up with me so I don’t have to be the asshole.”

“It’s not you, it’s me.”

Translation: “It’s absolutely you, but I lack the vertebra to say it.”

“We’re just vibing.”

Translation: “We’re keeping each other warm until someone I actually like comes along.”

“I don’t do labels.”

Translation: “I’m allergic to responsibility and accountability and I’m using this as my way to avoid you thinking I’ll ever commit to you so I don’t turnout being the asshole.”

“I’m focusing on myself right now.”

Translation: “I’m focusing on everyone but you right now.”

“You’re too good for me.”

Translation: “I know I’m trash, but I’d rather you dump me than admit it.”

“We should keep things light.”

Translation: “I will take every ounce of emotional and mental energy you have and give nothing in return!”

Bonus Sidebar

Signs You’re in a Situationship (Because It Is A Disease That Needs To Be Eradicated)

Your plans are always same-day.

They refer to you as “this person I’m talking to” after 6 months.

The most romantic text you’ve gotten is “u up?” at 1:43 AM.

You’ve met their dog but not their friends.

They don’t want you to meet their friends.

“What are we?” is met with nervous laughter or sudden amnesia and/or confusion.