You might see me as somewhat traditional. I still rely on a handwritten calendar, the kind where I jot down notes with a pen. Back in my mid-20s, dating platforms like eHarmony and Match emerged, revolutionizing the way we connect. At that time, many of my single friends were signing up, albeit discreetly. After attending several weddings where couples had met online, I was convinced to give it a try.
One Sunday afternoon, I sat down with a friend who was also single, and together we crafted our online profiles. I filled out multiple-choice questions and essays detailing my personality traits, values, and what I sought in a partner. With a new email account specifically for this purpose, I dove headfirst into the online dating pool, hopeful that I would meet someone special.
However, the initial excitement soon faded as I awaited replies from potential matches. After several days of silence, Gabe reached out, initiating a series of multiple-choice questions that sparked my interest. I enjoyed his profile, and it seemed mutual. My hopes surged as I crafted responses to his inquiries with input from friends.
As we exchanged emails daily, I found myself developing strong feelings for Gabe. But then, tragedy struck; my father was diagnosed with late-stage cancer. I shared this news in my next email, mentioning the complicated nature of my relationship with him. To my dismay, communication abruptly ceased. I anxiously re-read my message, trying to pinpoint what might have caused his silence. Even my friends were puzzled by his sudden disappearance.
Eventually, I reached out to Gabe, only to receive a curt response: “I don’t date girls who have complicated issues.” That was the end of our communication, leaving me heartbroken and confused. Feeling discouraged, I decided to quit online dating altogether.
In the time I spent away from the online scene, I went on a few traditional dates, had a couple of crushes, and even pursued a serious relationship with an old college friend. However, as I entered my early 30s, a close friend encouraged me to explore online dating once more. She was on a mission to find a partner with an accent and had discovered a new site focused on international matches. Reluctantly, I agreed to try again.
Fast forward ten years, and there I was once more, creating an ideal profile on a dating site, carefully selecting the right photos and answering questions. While my friend quickly received messages from interested suitors, my inbox was filled with men who expressed desires for submissive partners or were primarily interested in my American citizenship. I reached out to men who appeared promising based on their profiles, but once again, there was silence. Frustrated, I disabled my account as my friend began a serious relationship with someone she met online.
After relocating twice in seven years—first to Washington, D.C., and then to Denver—I found myself signing up for various dating sites, pondering how else one might meet a partner. But after each unsuccessful date or lack of responses, I would deactivate my accounts.
At 38, a realization struck me: online dating simply wasn’t for me. While I acknowledge its success for many (and I’ve witnessed numerous weddings resulting from such platforms), it felt misaligned with who I am. The ability to craft a profile that doesn’t accurately reflect one’s true self seemed disingenuous. Engaging in this process felt forced, and I often sensed I was shopping for companionship, which created an uncomfortable dynamic. The ease with which someone could disappear without a word (“ghosting”) further tainted the experience.
After 13 years and multiple online dating sites, I made the decision to walk away. While many around me appeared to be finding love online, I chose to embrace my singlehood. Since disconnecting from the online world, I have discovered a newfound happiness. I no longer dwell on the future or when I might meet someone; instead, I focus on enjoying the present moment.
Rather than scrolling through profiles, I now engage in activities I love, like hiking and writing. I spend quality time with friends and family who are physically present in my life. This shift has brought me a deeper sense of joy and fulfillment, allowing me to appreciate the simplicity of being.
Now, without the distraction of online dating, I find myself smiling more at strangers. You just never know where a friendly smile might lead.
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In summary, stepping away from the online dating scene has allowed me to cultivate a richer, more fulfilling life without the pressures and disappointments of digital matchmaking.
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