When I deleted my account/dating profile in early January and restarted it two or three weeks later, I was looking for a reset. I had told myself, “this time, I’m going to be more deliberate, more intentional.” For over a year, I had let my profile grow cluttered and weedy with likes and connections that weren’t going to happen or had happened and fizzled. Some of those connections were over a year old, some were from my travels around the country, a bunch were from when I first moved here. More deliberate/more intentional, this time, means only connecting with one person at a time and not swiping “yes” on anyone else until I’ve seen where the first connection goes. More deliberate/intentional this time means not collecting an array of almost connected profiles like some bankers box full of participation trophies.
Knowing that very few other people will be using the app this way or that few people will follow a similar methodology, I suspect that my approach of not playing the numbers game and not hedging my bets will be a losing proposition. Furthermore, doing things this way all but guarantees bouts of FOMO – who am I not connecting with as I plod my way through stalled conversations, ghosting, and non-starters? Trying a slower and more deliberate approach, I begin to understand the ruthlessness with which people move on quickly. This is when I have to remind myself that there’s no rush, no urgency – and then I counter-remind myself that lack of urgency (or at least excitement) seems to be part of the problem. This is when I shrug and go to my corner bar in the middle of block where I can have entertaining, if not stupid, conversations with the neighborhood stooges.
I’ve bitched about being on and off these apps plenty of times. And I know I’m not alone in this bitching. Most of the single people I talk with (younger people hanging out at bars in my neighborhood) hate the apps. Or if hate is too strong of a word, they express fatigue with them. Too many creeps, too many non-starters, too many bad experiences. I haven’t encountered very many creeps, and while I’ve had a lot of non-starters, I haven’t had many “bad” experiences. In fact, when I begin to grumble about my distaste for the apps (see current blog post), I remind myself that I’ve met some amazing people online – I married one, dated a few, and got engaged to another. No, my primary complaint is that the apps are increasingly designed for continued app engagement as opposed to being designed to facilitate good connections. They’re designed for expediency and brute force attacks. They’re designed in a throw everything at the wall see what sticks sort of way. As such, I’m afraid they train us in behaviors that run counter to achieving our goals. By making the experience so low stakes (just keep swiping), I think they encourage low stakes connections and low stakes effort. Furthermore, the collective experience seems to be one in which there’s a race to the bottom with respect to social norms. When the user expectation is that they’ll be ghosted or catfished or breadcrumbed or some other dumb dating “trend” or worse they’ll get unsolicited dick picks or harassed, it’s pretty easy to feel as though there are few rules for decorum. I seldom see stories about a new trend that isn’t awful, a new trend that espouses thoughtfulness and respect or intentional and unfettered kindness.
I think one of the stronger examples of how design and monetization work against user intent can be found in the ubiquitous “swiping” apps – in which, like flipping a deck of cards one by one, you have to decide yes or no before you get to see the next card. Evaluating people in this manner leaves little to no room for maybe… or more accurately, the only way to get to maybe is by swiping right (saying yes) and then half-heartedly starting a conversation with someone who you immediately labeled as “they’re probably not my first choice, but who knows, maybe they’ll surprise me.” By the very design of this instantaneous decision process, the apps have set up a situation in which almost everyone becomes a “maybe” because the “hell yes” could be just around the corner when the next card is flipped. This leads to the not great behavior of swiping right on a lot of people but never having the capacity to talk with, much less meet, all of them… which, in turn, leads to increased feelings of rejection (we matched, why didn’t he or she write back?) and a kind of dehumanization that focuses on physical attraction first. Many people, myself included, admit to swiping on pictures, sometimes drunkenly, and not reading the profile details. I know I’ve had MAGA people “like/swipe” me despite my profile clearly stating that I’m a lib. In my small effort to combat all of this, being deliberate/intentional, this time, means reading profiles and not swiping out of boredom, or solely because I think they’re cute, or because what else am I supposed to do when I’m sitting at the bar while my friend goes to to take a piss?
Beyond design, my other gripe, my current gripe, which isn’t terribly different from past gripes, is the disconnect between what someone might advertise on their profile and how they “deliver.” Again, I think this is a learned behavior born of app fatigue and training more than anything else. Quite a few of the people I encounter on these apps write up profiles that say the right things (looking for an easy, fun connection and good conversation, funny witty banter, etc. etc.) yet fail to act in ways that might make those aspirations attainable. They may know what they want, but their efforts, in my limited observations, don’t match up with their desired outcomes. Perhaps we just have different definitions of “witty banter” or “good conversation.” And, of course, it’s always possible that it’s a “me” thing.
As someone who’s mostly willing to put in some effort, and as someone who tries to treat others the way I’d like to be treated (models the behaviors I’d like to see), this gets disappointing. And, yes, I look inward first – I ask myself if I’m holding up my end of things… am I putting in the effort? Generally speaking, I think so. In early conversations, I’ll ask questions, crack bad jokes, and try to be conversational. When it’s not reciprocated, I (and I think lot’s of people out there playing this tired and silly game) am left wondering why the disconnect or, worse yet, saying meh, and moving on. All of which, unfortunately, gets me back to the root problem which is that there exists in the online dating world a dull and tiring cycle of meh. The more times people experience lack of enthusiasm or low effort, the easier it becomes to not show enthusiasm or expend effort. Meh begets meh.
A recent example:
Not long ago, I connected with someone whose profile said, “fun, loving, goofy, intellectual seeking a long term relationship, and dating with intention, good conversation, sense of humor and a good heart.” I thought, “sounds great, I think I fit the bill, how do I sign up?” And, in the be the person you want to find mentality, I assumed that what they seek from others is also what they possess and can offer. That’s probably my first mistake.
In the course four or five days, we exchanged maybe a dozen texts (total) which, given the time frame, felt far from conversational. By comparison, on any random weekday, I’ll exchange five to ten texts with a friend in the span of five minutes. On any given day, I have better conversations with co-workers or strangers at bars. One or two texts a day is a very slow way to get to know someone and it doesn’t feel very intentional. Furthermore, in this “conversation,” despite a profile that want’s “good conversation” and a “sense of humor,” this particular person didn’t ask a single question or say anything remotely funny. There was no back and forth. There was no banter, witty or otherwise. I don’t know what her definition of good conversation or sense of humor, are/were, but we clearly weren’t connecting on either of those fronts.
And this is where I was torn. How long should one give a person to demonstrate effort or interest? At what point does the app psychology (with dozens of other potential matches) kick in and one begins to think, “nothing here, move on, next”? My initial inclination, after four or five days of not conversing, was to assume she’s not interested (didn’t ask questions) and let the conversation drop. I doubted she would pick it back up – and I was fine with that. Except, far too often, that’s how things play out on these apps. That’s how, before the reset, I ended up with 40 stalled conversations that were mutually abandoned and a year’s worth of missed connections in my oversized box of participation trophies. That’s what contributes to the collective fatigue. Being intentional, this time, might mean not ghosting or accumulating a list of petered out conversations. Being intentional, this time, should mean behaving differently, right? If I want different results, I have to do different things.
My second inclination was to give it another day or two and then say, “hey – not really picking up the vibe, good luck out there.” This, too, would have been fine, and acknowledging the disconnect seems more mature than allowing mutual ennui to take over. Except, wishing someone “good luck out there” not only feels passive aggressive, but it also feels incomplete. Admittedly, strangers don’t owe each other explanations or feedback, but if we want a better dating ecosystem, it seems like it would be worth a conversation. It seems worth pointing out the inconsistencies between words and action. Of course, such a conversation between people who barely know each other is both presumptuous and fraught with opportunities for misunderstanding – which is why, at best, I would have considered saying something along the lines of “not connecting” or “it’s not a fit” and moving on.
In the end, I dropped it. I didn’t say anything, I didn’t disconnect, I didn’t point out the inconsistencies. I just let it fade into the “older chats” section of the app.
I’m a little disappointed in myself for not…
I had been playing with this blog post on and off for a few days. Then Valentine’s Day arrived and I was trying to figure out how to turn it into some commentary about the frustrations of making connections in this modern moment. I went back to my original premise of wanting to be more deliberate and trying to change my behavior (because it’s the only thing over which I have any control). I resurrected the dropped conversation and sent text. I said something about my efforts to be more intentional this year, about not letting opportunities fade just because that’s how things go on the apps. I’m not really expecting a response, but I can take some solace in knowing that I was willing to change my approach – to behave differently.
All of it, dating apps and behavior patters, communication and non-communication, feels, and probably is, quite trivial – unless of course, as I am, you’re is trying to determine if you’re part of the problem. Then, it’s still trivial, but can become one of those small areas in life where you pull back and ask a series of questions, “what would I like out of this experience?” “what’s different now from past experiences?” “how can I make this community better?”
I don’t have answers to any of those questions. What I have is a fading sense of what “worked” before and some semblance of where I’d like to be in some distant and blurry future. The path between those two things is barely discernible as path. Moreover, I’ve grown quite content with just wandering around and enjoying what I encounter along the way… which feels neither deliberate nor intentional. Fortunately, this open field with a few shade trees between valley and summit, between effort and acceptance, is familiar territory for me – and the process alone almost guarantees that this time, things will be different. How could they not?