I didn’t set out to write a blog series about dating. I set out to survive it.

As a therapist, I spend a lot of time helping people name their patterns, make sense of their emotions, and fight for healthier relationships. But when it came to my own love life? Let’s just say there’s a reason those patterns were so easy for me to recognize. They’re the same ones I see in myself through swiping, spiraling, and wondering what the hell happened to dating.

This isn’t a guide. It’s not clinical. It’s part journal, part therapy room, part group chat at 11 p.m. 

Plain and simple: dating is hard. It can stir up a lot of different emotions and you can easily feel like you’re alone in the world. It can feel like a mix of job interviews, ghost stories, and emotional marathons no one trained us for. 

Sure, we can work on how we approach it but there are things that we can’t change. There are parts of the system that are just objectively broken. From the superficial to the true deep emotions that keep us up at night. It can break our self-esteem and our sense of hope while making our nervous system feel like it’s on fire. 

My therapist (shout out Alyssa) says I should write a book. But for now, this series will do. I’ve got stories to spare and I know I’m not the only one.

I’ve written about the moments that leave us wondering if we’re too much or not enough. The silence after vulnerability. The situationships that feel like almost-love but never quite made it. The way dating apps can make us feel disposable, and how even the people who care about us sometimes say the wrong thing. I’ve written about the ache, the rage, the hope, and yes, the humor because sometimes laughing is the only way to keep from falling apart.

Whether you’re single, dating, healing from something that never even got a label, or just tired, this series is for you.

If you’ve ever wondered, “Is it just me?” it’s not.
So let’s not hide it. Let’s actually talk about it. All of it.

I don’t know anyone who loves being on dating apps. Most of us use them out of necessity, not excitement. We keep showing up, scrolling through profiles, and wondering if we’re being too picky or not picky enough. We tell ourselves it’s just part of modern dating, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t mess with us. If you’ve ever felt burned out, numb, or like you’re one “almost relationship” away from deleting the whole thing, then you get it.

Left. Left. Left. Right. Left. 

The endless swiping and feeling like there’s no point to it. I mean, how could it not? The apps are designed to be superficial. You’re looking at their best pictures (if they even put that much effort in), and you learn very little about them. It’s tiring to look at profile after profile and feel like no one is a good match for you. That swiping fatigue is very real.

I remember catching myself multiple times swiping left without even looking. I was just on autopilot. You can spend hours on these apps and feel like you’re getting nowhere. And truthfully, sometimes you are getting nowhere. Spending all day non-stop looking at these profiles can be a full-time job. It can feel like all you’re doing is swiping and swiping and swiping.

I timed it once. I spent just under two hours swiping and only liked one profile. That wasn’t because I was being picky, but because I wasn’t seeing any profiles that truly matched what I was looking for. They either didn’t match my family planning goals or didn’t want the same type of relationship I did, so I wasn’t going to waste anyone’s time by swiping right on them. 

You should put the phone down sometimes and stop swiping, but it’s easier said than done. These apps are addictive. Just like gambling, you lose your bet (swiped left) and you’re down, but eventually you get a small payout (a match), and that little bit of a dopamine hit keeps you coming back for more. You’re hoping to hit the big jackpot and feeling like you’re getting closer. Plus there’s the feeling of “if I walk away now then I might miss out” or “I’m just one swipe away from meeting someone”. So you burn yourself out.

But the fatigue doesn’t stop there. It continues once you actually match with someone and start talking. It’s hard to have a conversation that is interesting enough to hold both of your attention and theirs. You’re competing with every other conversation in their inbox. There’s only so many times you want to answer the question, “What do you do for fun?” But what else are they supposed to ask you? You’re just a stranger on a screen. 

The conversations start to blend together and you forget what you’ve already said. The dates kind of go the same way too. I mean, I’ve forgotten what I’ve asked or told people before, to the point of telling the same story to the same man more than once. My most embarrassing moment involving this was telling a story about something a guy said on our date….to the guy who said it to me. 

The problem is that those messages come from a real person (most of the time), but it doesn’t feel like it. You don’t know them and you barely know what they look like. This can cause two things to happen: 

The first is that you stop talking because it’s easy to walk away for no real reason. You never met them so no harm no foul. They don’t feel like a real person to you so it feels like it doesn’t matter. “You owe them nothing,” right? 

The second is, you build them up in your head and romanticize them. You end up attached before you even go on a date. They’re on pedestal that they will never be able to live up to. Either way, this isn’t fair to either of you. 

What happens when someone asks you what you want for dinner or you’re looking on Netflix for something to watch? Decision paralysis. You have so many options in front of you that it’s hard to commit to one. My old roommate used to start a movie and 15 minutes in would get bored and switch to the next. Dating apps are no different. 

You have so many profiles to swipe through on one app, and then you have other apps you can switch to and start the cycle again. There will be spells of talking to no one, followed by stretches where you’re talking to too many people at once. How do you decide who gets your energy? And what keeps you from moving your energy to the next person the moment it gets difficult or you get bored? 

Too many choices leads to poor decisions or no decisions at all. But you can’t be with someone if you don’t make a choice. Then there’s the fear of making the wrong choice because we’ve seen that play out too many times. 

I was talking to someone who’s a great guy. We were a month or so into dating and I knew he was probably still talking to other people. He went to my Hinge profile to show me something and that’s when I saw it. The number of women he was talking to was hurtful. They were all active conversations too. 

He was afraid to pick one and ultimately chose wrong.

I later found out that the girl he ended up dating had nothing in common with him and wanted to change who he was. He admitted he made the wrong choice and hurt people that could’ve been the right one. I’m not saying I was the right choice by any means, but we’ll never know.

But don’t think this is all our fault or that we’re in complete control over it. Because we’re not. The apps are designed to keep us on them. 

At the time of writing this, Match Group (which owns a large amount of dating apps) is actually being sued. Some say it’s because of their addictive design. Others say it’s because they con their users. Now, this doesn’t mean they’re guilty and this is a civil class-action suit, so no one knows where it’ll go. But it’s worth thinking about. The lawsuit alleges that the addictive nature of the apps is keeping people coming back, while the apps themselves pretend to be about connection. Hinge’s slogan, “Designed to be Deleted,”  doesn’t really hold up when you consider that every deletion is a lost customer.  

It sometimes feels like these apps prey on the desperate hope people feel even when the app repeatedly fails to deliver quality options. That’s what creates the pay-to-play mindset. The more invested you are, the more you’re likely to spend. How does that incentive them to help you find love? 

Everything is becoming subscription-based, and free features are being slowly taken away. Bumble used to allow users to go back to a profile they swiped left on three times a day. Now you have to pay for that. Hinge has what we all call “Rose Jail,” which is where they show you people they say are compatible with you, but you have to pay to interact with them. Sure, you can try your luck without paying. But the algorithm seems to hold you back. Developers deny it, but a lot of users report that you only get to see profiles that the algorithm deems “worthy” of your level. 

In my own dating life, there are profiles I’ve never seen. Friends show me people they’ve matched with who are in the same area and age range, and somehow, I’ve never come across their profiles. 

And don’t get me started on Hinge’s “Most Compatible.” Almost every time it was someone who has nothing in common with me. I’d select that I wanted a long-term relationship and their profile would say “short-term.” In what reality is that compatible? I also noticed the pattern that when I stopped using the app, I got more likes. I’d get more notifications. I’d have no conversations going on and be swiping daily, but the second I back off, I’d get like after like.

But many of us still feel locked into using these dating apps. Because if not there, then where? There’s a reason it all feels so discouraging, and it’s not because you’re broken or doing it wrong. Dating apps weren’t built to help you find love. They were built to keep you using them. That doesn’t mean it’s hopeless. But it does mean you’re swimming against a current that’s stronger than we like to admit. You’re allowed to feel tired. You’re allowed to take breaks. And you’re allowed to want real connection, even when the whole system makes it feel out of reach. You’re not the only one still trying. You’re not the only one still hoping.

Talking stage. Situationship. Exclusive. These words didn’t used to exist, but now they seem to define everything. They’re supposed to give us clarity, but often they just create more confusion. The rise of these modern dating labels has muddied the waters and made it harder to know where we actually stand with someone.

They reduce accountability and can make it easier to dodge commitment. One person’s “exclusive” might feel like a full-blown relationship, while the other still feels single. One person thinks they’re headed toward long-term, while the other is still casually swiping. When those expectations don’t line up, someone always ends up hurt. The hard part is that these labels feel like progress. They give the illusion that we’re moving forward. But if we’re not actually on the same page, then we’re just assigning new names to the same uncertainty.

Our family is left just as confused. I remember when my sister was dating her now-husband and every time my mom called him her boyfriend, she’d respond in pure frustration with, “He’s not my boyfriend!” Eventually my mom turned to me and said, “What does that even mean?”

Good question because it depends on who you ask.

These labels didn’t exist in our parents’ generation. They met, went on a few dates, and shortly after they were in a committed relationship. That doesn’t mean they had it all figured out, but it might have been simpler. Now, people can be in a situationship for over a year and still not call it a relationship. Sure, that works for some people. But for many, it leaves them constantly wondering how much they’re allowed to expect.

So why do we use these labels at all? For some, it helps give language to better describe that stage of dating. But for others, it’s a loophole. Saying, “We’re just talking,” or “We never said we were exclusive,” lets someone avoid the responsibility of commitment. Or even avoid the accountability of hurting someone they knew was emotionally invested. One of my favorite questions someone once asked was, “Is there anyone who would be hurt to know we’re out together right now?” It cuts through the labels and gets to the actual point. But let’s be honest, if the answer is yes, most people won’t tell you that.

We’re sometimes expected to carry the emotional burden of being their significant other, while not receiving the benefits we need. So when we don’t agree on a label or what it means, it can lead to more pain. 

I remember being his person. He called me his dog’s mom and said I was one of the only people he trusted with his dog. I was there all the time. He told me he didn’t want a relationship with me but days later he laid in my lap while he cried on one of his worst days. I carried that pain for him and he chose to never see me again. 

He wanted me as his, without the responsibility of being mine. He said he was clear about what he wanted and I didn’t listen because his actions and words didn’t match him saying that he didn’t want to be with me. Or better yet, I didn’t want to hear what he had to say. I cherry-picked his behaviors and words to fit the narrative I wanted. I only heard what I wanted to hear. But he also knew exactly what he was doing to me. We’re both responsible for it.

The truth is that playing it cool about labels causes anxiety. The longer you go without clarity, the more questions start bubbling up: Am I allowed to ask where this is going? Are they seeing other people? Am I wasting my time?

There are also times when the absence of a label tells you everything you need to know. Maybe they don’t want to define it because they aren’t sure. Or maybe they are sure and just don’t want to hurt you by saying it. If you’re consistently starting that conversation and keep getting shut down, then that should be everything you need to know. Phrases like, “I like the way things are,” or “We know what we mean to each other so why do we need to put a label on it?” are answers. They’re telling you what the label is. You aren’t on the same page.

Different definitions and expectations around timelines only make that anxiety worse.

There’s also the reality that sometimes it isn’t about dodging commitment. It’s about their attachment style. I know, I know, those are buzz words all over social media right now, but hear me out. Why do some of us need those labels? Because we feel anxious if we don’t have them. We crave intimacy and reassurance through closeness. We feel we need those words said. 

But not everyone works like that. Some people are more avoidant. They may feel like running when those things are front and center but that doesn’t mean they don’t like us. Labels and expectations can make them feel overwhelmed or like they’re losing their independence. Being emotionally vulnerable might not come easily to them. That creates a push-pull because one partner wants more clarity and the other pulls away or just thinks the conversation doesn’t need to happen. It doesn’t mean the relationship can’t work but there has to be mutual understanding and communication to build security.I had a friend who once asked a girl to be his girlfriend before their first date because he craved the security of a label. (He now admits that was weird.) Later, when I started dating someone I really liked, that same friend would ask me every week, “Did he ask you to be his girlfriend yet?” I was happy and secure in what we had, but he made me feel like it wasn’t enough without a label.

I joked with someone I dated that I’m the embodiment of a puppy wanting attention all the time while I need to ignore his reincarnated cat soul so he can recharge and come back on his own terms for affection. We understood each other and communicated about needs so there was nothing wrong with it.

I had a friend who once asked a girl to be his girlfriend before their first date because he craved the security of a label. (He now admits that was weird.) Later, when I started dating someone I really liked, that same friend would ask me every week, “Did he ask you to be his girlfriend yet?” I was happy and secure in what we had, but he made me feel like it wasn’t enough without a label.

Other times though, the label was exactly what I needed. There’s something reassuring about someone claiming you with no questions. But that title doesn’t guarantee they’ll stay. Sometimes it just gives us a false sense of security. There have also been times that someone will publicly post about being in a relationship but it’s hidden from everyone except the significant other. 

What do you gain from the label outside of security? 

For me, language matters. I want to make sure I’m using the terms we agree on. What do I call you when I talk to my mom? Will it be awkward if one of us uses a different word? Are there terms you don’t like? These are real questions that help prevent confusion.

Once, on a fourth date, I was out with a guy I knew for literally 12 days when we ran into someone he knew from high school. They were talking and eventually the guy looked at me then back at him and asked, “Is this your girl?”. I swear time stood still during that hesitation before he said, “Yeah.”

I laughed because, come on, it was only our fourth date. But that friend was a girls’ girl through and through because without skipping a beat, “Oh, why the hesitation?” with a smirk on his face. My date smiled, nodded his head, “Yeah, we’re dating.” Now imagine if that wasn’t twelve days in and he still didn’t know how to answer. Or worse, if he answered it “wrong.” That’s the kind of situation we want to avoid. 

It also keeps us looking ahead. When you’re in the talking stage, you want to be exclusive. When you’re exclusive, you want to be official. When you’re in a relationship, you want to be engaged. Then married. Then whatever comes next. We’re always chasing the next level. 

That pressure can push people forward at a pace they’re not ready for. It can turn something good into something tense. I know a couple who never called it a relationship before he proposed. That’s not typical, but it worked for them. On the other end, I know people who take years before hitting the next step. My best friend was with her now-husband for eight years before getting engaged. Meanwhile, I know others who couldn’t go two years without questioning if the relationship was going somewhere.

People forget that each stage comes with its own unique experiences and we should soak in those moments because we won’t get them back.

The truth is there’s no single “right” path. But when we put so much pressure on what things are called, we can miss how we actually feel in them. And if we’re not honest about what we want, we risk holding on to someone who isn’t giving it.