Getting weird messages? No matches? Dead end chats? You are so, so not alone.
People Are Being Very Weird On Dating Apps Right Now
Re-entering dating apps after months away is strangely reassuring—the world has changed, but the gang’s all still here. My hair catches the wind rippling from the 12 flag emojis in Doug’s profile. I pay my solemn respects to the many fish that have been clubbed to death to communicate a certain sense of outdoorsiness. Games of “Two Truths And A Lie” stretch before me like a lazy trail of vapor behind a jumbo jet. Maybe soon, I will consent to play Catan with a “doggo” in the home of a man who identifies as “the little spoon.” Who knows? The world is my oyster (which you had BETTER like eating, on our spontaneous adventures!)
A dating app, under the best of circumstances, is an interactive gallery of people trying to be appealing. It is a digitized version of a bar, but with zero music or alcohol—actually, it’s probably closer to a single’s mixer in a church basement with an “Improv Magic!” theme. So it makes sense that after a social hiatus long enough to literally travel to and from Mars, behavior on dating apps is approaching new heights of badness.
Here is an example of an exchange I had on a dating app recently. I wrote: “Ethan! How are your plants?” And he wrote back, “Well watered.” Chekhov dreamed of writing dialogue so succinct! Ethan and I will go the rest of our lives without speaking. One day I will be standing in line at the snow cone machine in the afterlife, and who will turn around? Ethan. And what will we talk about? His plants.
On Hinge, I answered a prompt. “I’m convinced that..." with "…I am personally funding the public library by paying so many late fees.” This is to convey that, ha ha, I am adorably literate but, like, also fun and chill. Recently, a man commented, “While this may be the case, it’s important to give others a chance to check out those books too.” Oh Frederick! I think you were having a bad day.
https://twitter.com/baldwinsfag/status/1394391166209114117
I wish that I could say, Ah yes, men are so bad at dating. Worse than ever! Totally unlike me! I long to report that I continue to set the industry standard in the online dating space, creating meaningful emoji innovations while maintaining best “let's exchange numbers” practices. But no. I too have forgotten how to flirt online.
Why am I staring down a question from a man, asking me to please clarify what I meant about “the Jews and media.” (I am a Jew in the media, but that is no excuse for having created this situation for myself.) Why am I swiping with abandon and then refusing to write back to my matches, like they are Tamagotchis I created just for the pleasure of watching them sicken and die? Yes, a man just asked me to share my “Next big life goal” (does he want to hear why my greatest weakness is actually my greatest strength next?) but the reality is that I do not know what to tell him, and want to lie down just thinking about it.
People are not okay. They do not remember how to speak to or touch each other. Of course they are projecting an uncanny version of themselves. We are all so many Sesame Street puppeteers, holding a limp, bug-eyed avatar of ourselves out to the world, hoping to enchant. Like everything else during the pandemic, we just have to listen to scientists, try to be kind to each other, and wait to see if things get better.
Ev’yan Whitney, a sexuality doula, told Glamour last month that as we return to regular sexual encounters, we should consider adopting an attitude of, “We’re both kind of novices, let’s be bumbling idiots together.” She said we should explore what it feels like to be together, and not take things so seriously.
It's a good thought to take with us into the endless administrative work of chatting on dating apps. Every single person is being weird. Nobody is their best self right now. We can only hope that we meet with people who appreciate our weirdness. People who accept that the road to romance is paved with the question, “So, do you have any siblings?” People at the very least, whose plants are well-watered.
Jenny Singer is a staff writer for Glamour. You can follow her on Twitter.
This story originally appeared on: Glamour - Author:Jenny Singer
