You might consider me somewhat traditional. I still use a physical calendar—yes, the kind you write in with a pen. Back in my mid-20s, when platforms like eHarmony and Match emerged, they transformed the dating landscape. At that time, many of my single friends had accounts, albeit discreetly. After witnessing several successful online matches culminate in weddings, I was convinced to give it a try.
One Sunday afternoon, I sat down with a friend who was also single to create our online profiles. I meticulously answered multiple-choice and essay questions about my personality, values, and what I desired in a partner. I set up a separate email for online interactions and eagerly dove into the experience, believing I was on the verge of finding my soulmate.
As I interacted with potential matches, my initial enthusiasm began to fade. Responses were scarce, until one day, Jake reached out with a series of questions. I appreciated his profile, and it seemed the feeling was mutual. My optimism soared! I took great care in crafting my responses, often consulting with friends.
Jake and I advanced through the online dating stages, and I found myself developing real feelings for him. We exchanged daily emails, but then tragedy struck. One weekend, I received the devastating news that my father had been diagnosed with late-stage cancer. I shared this news with Jake in my next email, mentioning our complicated relationship.
After that, silence. I obsessively re-read my message, trying to pinpoint what had gone wrong. I even had friends analyze the email, desperate to understand. Eventually, I reached out to Jake, checking in on him. Days later, he replied with a curt message: “I don’t date women with complicated issues.” That was the end of our communication.
I was heartbroken, as only someone in their twenties can be. My confidence took a hit, prompting me to leave online dating behind. During my time away, I went on a few dates, experienced brief crushes, and even dated an old college friend seriously. However, as I approached my early 30s, a close friend persuaded me to give online dating another shot. She was determined to find a partner with an accent and had discovered a new dating site focused on international connections. Reluctantly, I agreed.
Fast forward a decade, and I found myself once more crafting the ideal profile, answering questions thoughtfully, and selecting the best photos. My friend quickly began receiving messages from potential matches, while my inbox filled up with men expressing desires for submissive partners or those fixated on my American citizenship. I reached out to men who seemed promising based on their profiles, but once again, I was met with silence. Eventually, I disabled my account as my friend entered into a serious relationship with someone she met online.
After moving twice in seven years, to Washington D.C. and then Denver, I tried various online dating platforms, questioning how else one might meet someone. Yet, after several disappointing dates or no replies, I found myself disabling accounts repeatedly.
Finally, at 38, I came to a realization: online dating simply wasn’t for me. While it has proven successful for many—evident in the weddings I’ve attended—my experience was different. The ability to craft a profile that may not reflect my true self felt disingenuous, and I often felt as though I was shopping for a date. The ease of ghosting someone also left me feeling uneasy.
After 13 years and numerous dating sites, I have decided to walk away from the online dating scene. Even as many find their ideal partners online, I choose to disengage completely. Since logging off, I have never felt happier in my single life. I no longer dwell on when I might meet someone; I have no prospects, but in choosing to disconnect permanently, I’ve embraced the present.
Rather than sifting through online profiles, I focus on my passions like hiking and writing. I dedicate more time to the people I love who are right in front of me. There is a profound joy in allowing myself to stop searching and simply exist where I am. Now that I’ve stepped back from the digital world, I find myself smiling more at strangers. You never know where a smile might lead.
In summary, I have found that stepping away from online dating has significantly improved my quality of life. Embracing the present and engaging in activities I love has brought me greater happiness than I ever experienced while searching for a partner online.
Keyphrase: Online Dating Experience
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