AI Pinpoints The Major Flaws In Modern Dating
Dating apps turned love into a buffet, but intimacy doesn’t live on a swipe. It shows up in real time, with real stakes.
I walked home from another almost-date—the kind with great lighting and zero warmth—and did the thing I always do: replayed every line I said like evidence in a trial.
By the time I got to my door, I wasn’t even mad at them; I was tired of the whole performance.
So I tried something weird.
I opened my laptop and asked a robot the question I’ve been dodging: what’s wrong with modern dating?
I expected clichés.
What I got felt uncomfortably true.
1. The Paradox of Too Much Choice
Dating apps turned the world into an infinite supermarket of people. That sounds empowering until you try to pick something for dinner and end up snacking on nothing.
Psychologist Barry Schwartz warned us about this years ago: “The fact that some choice is good doesn’t necessarily mean that more choice is better.”
When options explode, satisfaction drops and second-guessing spikes.
What does that look like in your phone? Half-started chats. A queue of “maybes.” The nagging thought that the next swipe could be 5% better. No wonder first dates feel like interviews and second dates feel like procurement.
2. The Performance Mindset
When dating becomes a stage, we play roles. We rehearse. We optimize our “profile funnel.” We deliver our best bits on cue.
But chemistry hates scripts. I’ve had dates where I aced the small talk and still felt weirdly hollow walking home.
Later, I realized I’d been performing a version of myself I didn’t want to keep up.
It’s exhausting to be “on” all the time. It’s also why quiet, unremarkable moments—a shared laugh over a crooked menu, walking in the wrong direction together—tell you far more than a perfect monologue.
3. Gamified Attention Spans
Apps are designed to keep you tapping, not to get you happily partnered and gone. That’s the business model.
Notifications create tiny dopamine blips; your brain starts to chase blips instead of bonds.
As Sherry Turkle has said, “We expect more from technology and less from each other.” When we lean on apps to deliver reassurance, we forget how to give and receive it in real time—with our faces, voices, and messy timing.
I’ve mentioned this before but it bears repeating: if your thumb is getting more exercise than your heart, you’re training the wrong muscle.
4. Over-reliance on Shallow Filters
We think we’re filtering for compatibility.
Height, hobbies, horoscopes. Vegan or not. Kids someday? Prefer houseplants or hiking?
Filters feel like control, but they often hide what we actually need to know: how someone makes decisions, how they handle conflict, what “a good weekend” really means to them.
I’m vegan, and I used to hard-filter for that. Then I met someone who wasn’t vegan but was deeply aligned on ethics, environmental choices, and how they treated service workers.
We didn’t end up together for other reasons, but it taught me this: values beat labels, and behaviors beat bios.
5. Therapy Talk Without the Therapy
I love that more of us speak openly about boundaries and attachment.
I also worry that we’re using clinical words to avoid human ones. “I don’t have the capacity” can sometimes mean “I don’t want to,” which is fine—but clarity is kinder.
Anecdotally, I’ve seen “anxious/avoidant” get used like astrology—helpful shorthand until it becomes destiny. If a label explains everything, it probably explains nothing. Keep the language; lose the hiding place.
6. Ambiguity as Emotional Armor
“Let’s see where this goes.” “What are we?” “We’re just vibing.”
Ambiguity protects us from rejection, commitment, and accountability all at once. It’s the perfect modern shield: you can’t be disappointed by a promise if a promise was never made.
The cost? Real intimacy.
Ambiguity is cheap in the short term and expensive over time. It racks up like credit card interest—especially when someone’s expectations quietly grow while the other person enjoys the benefits of not choosing.
7. Mismatched Pacing and Tempo
One person wants to text all day; the other prefers a check-in after work.
One wants a date this week; the other lives by the calendar invite. Neither is wrong.
But mismatched tempo creates avoidable pain.
On a trip through Japan, I learned to love trains because they leave when they say they will. Dating works the same. Set and honor a pace. If you move slower, say so. If you move faster, say so. If your paces never match, you’re not “almost compatible”—you’re incompatible in a way that matters.
8. The Normalization of Ghosting
Ghosting pretends to be a kindness: no uncomfortable conversation, no awkward explanations.
But it corrodes the trust we bring to the next person. It also trains us out of basic conflict skill.
A simple “Thanks for the date—nice meeting you, but I don’t feel a fit. Wishing you well.” is humane.
It takes 20 seconds. If someone gave you two hours of their life, you can give them two sentences.
9. Inflated Partner Expectations
We want a partner, best friend, creative collaborator, co-parent, adventurer, therapist, stylist, sous-chef, gym buddy, and spiritual guide—all in one. It’s… a lot.
As Esther Perel puts it, “We are asking from one person what once an entire village used to provide.”
That doesn’t mean we should expect less love. It means we should expect to diversify support: friendships, mentors, community—not outsource every human need to one human.
10. The Fear of Real Vulnerability
We talk endlessly, but often not about the right things.
We trade playlists, traumas, and banter—but skip the scary, ordinary truths: “I want kids, and soon.” “I’m paying off debt.” “I get prickly when I’m stressed.” “I need alone time to function.”
Years ago, I rushed past these conversations because I thought “chemistry” would solve logistics. It doesn’t.
Chemistry without clarity is a beautiful detour back to the same dead end.
So… is it all doomed? Not even close. Here’s what actually helps.
What Actually Helps
Pick constraints on purpose. Decide where you’ll date (two apps max, or none). Decide how many concurrent chats you’ll allow (three, not thirty). Decide how soon you’ll meet (within two weeks or unmatch). Paradoxically, a smaller playground gives you more room to play. If you try this for a month, watch how much calmer your choices feel. (Schwartz would approve.)
Swap performative polish for honest signals. If you usually default to glossy photos and perfect banter, post one ordinary snapshot and write one plain sentence about how you actually spend a Sunday. Signal what you’re truly like on a Tuesday at 8 p.m., not just on a Saturday at golden hour.
Move from app to life faster. Two good exchanges → a short call → a short coffee. No marathon texting. If a call feels like too much, send a voice note. Real cadence reveals real compatibility.
State desires, not defenses. “I’m looking for a partner, not a pen pal,” beats “I don’t have capacity for endless texting.” “I’d love to see you again Friday,” beats “Let’s just see.” Desire is braver than hedging, and infinitely more attractive.
Filter for values with real questions. Try, “What’s a decision you made recently that you’re proud of?” Or, “What does a good apology look like from you?” Or, if it matters to you (it does to me), “How do you feel about plant-based eating?” The answers will show you more than a profile checkbox ever could.
Meet at your shared pace. Agree on how often you’ll communicate this week. If someone needs daily texts and you don’t, say it. If your schedules are tight, propose a date two weeks out and put it on the calendar. Reliability is hot.
Close loops kindly. If it’s a no, send the text. If you were mid-conversation, send the text. If you had a great time and still don’t feel it, send the text. The standard you hold is the culture you help create.
Ask one scary question early. You’ll either unlock depth or learn you’re not aligned. Both outcomes are progress.
Build the village. Friends, hobbies, mentors, therapy, group chats, faith communities, family. Expect your partner to be a partner—not your everything. You’ll be less needy, more generous, and far more magnetic.
Final Thoughts
Modern dating isn’t broken; it’s overloaded. The fix isn’t a perfect app or a trick. It’s fewer inputs, clearer signals, and braver decisions.
Ask for less spectacle and more substance.
Choose a smaller field and play a better game.
Above all, treat people like people—not profiles, not pipelines, not backup plans.
That was the machine’s answer, more or less.
The human edit is this: if you want something real, date like a real person.
