Despite all the shit I talk, I do believe dating apps have brought good to my life and society as a whole.
Besides the countless successful relationships and growing families that wouldn’t exist without them, dating apps have become engrained in our culture and mating rituals so profoundly that it’s a web not easily untangled.
For 6 years I’ve had a handful of dating apps on my phone at any given time. Some days, I swiped until I ran out of people in my radius; then, I would get burnt out and go months without opening a single one.
Each app provided a myriad of possibilities. They helped me discover and then rediscover my sexuality. They introduced me to new thoughts, ideas, religions, and kinks. They allowed me to reinvent myself and start a journey of deconstruction, dismantling the core beliefs I was taught and rebuilding a foundation that reflected my own knowledge and life experiences. They encouraged me to get out of the house when my natural state was at rest inertia. They forced me to meet new people when my motto was #nonewfriends.
In November 2023, I went to see a psychic in Denver with my friend. She told me that my soul mate is a man (I know, I was as disappointed as you are reading this), that I would meet him within one year, and our souls would instantly recognize each other because we have shared many happy past lives together. She informed me that I would not have biological children in this life but that he would have kids from his previous marriage for me to love.
At this point, I had removed men from all of the dating apps and had only been swiping on women and trans/non-binary people for months. So, I decided to trust my psychic and give the Y chromosome another chance. Thanks to Hinge, I matched with him that same day. Within 5 days of our first message and 2 days after meeting for the first time, I deleted every single app from my phone, something I have never done before.
Our conversation flowed smoothly from witty grammar banter to deep discussions about life, love, loss, and lessons learned. It was as if the universe had orchestrated this, guiding two hearts toward each other through the intricacies of the algorithm. The excitement I felt was reminiscent of a teenage crush, but it didn’t take long before I was acutely aware that this was much more than a right swipe.
Falling in love in your 30s differs from your 20s, especially when you’ve already got a practice marriage under your belt.
It’s not about who you have on your arm at formal parties; it’s about whose arms you feel most safe in. I’m not daydreaming about absurdly priced dresses; I’m fantasizing about shared responsibility and someone to run errands with. I don’t have to imagine what kind of father he would be because I already know. I don’t feel anxious or unsure because he gives me validation and reassurance. I don’t question how he feels because he’s communicative and vulnerable. I can easily envision what a life with him would be like because he’s eager to share every part of himself with me. I’m not concerned with the traditional timeline of courtships or the opinion of outsiders because I’m confident we’ll do what’s right for us on whatever schedule works best.
We both committed and then contributed to the downfall of our respective marriages and came out of it more authentic and evolved with a better understanding of our needs. We know what we’re looking for. We’ve focused on self-reflection, gone to therapy, and done the work, and now we’re ready to give of ourselves to one another. If that’s not true love, I don’t know what is.
@DatingtrApps 