I tried to find love in a hopeless place (dating apps)

I have many regrets from the pandemic; the amount of money I splurged on mocha frappe on ShopeeFood and Grab, the haircut I gave myself, the hours I spent doomscrolling on what everyone else was doing, unsurprisingly gained weight from the said coffee, and—most significantly—the time I thought I’d find ‘The One’ on dating apps while wearing the same shirt for two days straight (in my defence, it was cold and drizzled a lot in those days). For many like me, it was a trend, it was an opportunity, especially for those who never tried dating apps and wanting to meet new people, and honestly? It was a mistake. It took roughly fourty-eight hours to remember why I as an introvert, I prefer the presence of my existing friends and zero human contact with anyone else for anything serious.

My two best friends and I were laughing sharing screenshots of our dating profiles and bio. We weren’t sure how serious we should we be because we didn’t know how this all worked. Maybe for me at least, I wanted to invest in it slightly more (disclaimer: I did regret it) because other than my classmates who I met on a weekly basis through their Zoom profile thumbnails, I didn’t meet that many new people.

Anyway, on the dating apps, we swiped right on a guy we liked (or not) and if we both did the same, the girls get to start the conversation, which was nice, because some of the guys who swiped on us looked pretty questionable. This was for Bumble, but as for Tinder, it was free for all. You liked someone? They could get to talk to you whenever they want. Or ghost you at their soonest convenience for whatever or no reason at all.

For either app, they also get to ghost you. Sigh, it’s like they can’t carry conversations these days. We’ll get to this later.

On the basis of it all, we knew what these apps were notorious for but since there was also a rush of new people like us, who genuinely wanted to connect during a time when human contact was at a minimum, we thought we’d give it a go.

My first impression? It felt fun at first. Like a game. When you both swiped right on each other, a colourful firework pop-up appears. It was interesting to see who the algorithm thought our profiles and preferences matched. There were foreigners and locals in the mix. I noticed guys liked to do the same pose, always in front of a pool or a car, mostly at night (hmm). At one point, I even came across my junior’s profile who I swiped right just to say hello and wished him good luck in finding the ‘right one’ (oh, how innocent I was *screams in pillow*), only for him to switch it around and initiate if we could try dating. I deleted that chat real quick.

I even hit the bottom of the barrel several times and seeing the same profiles show up again. I was so confused because I was pretty sure my preferences weren’t so strict—a practising Muslim, non-smoker, don’t drink—surely, there must be a bunch of “clean” guys like that out there (well yes, just not on dating apps I soon realised). The more I swiped left, which happened a lot, the less optimistic I was at seeing crustier guys that looked like they hadn’t showered in two days before taking the pics. It’s like they didn’t even try.

It’s not just their profile pics but the conversations they carried that were problematic. I would drag myself to say hello and asked what their bio was about, they’d reply a few lines, which got shorter and shorter as we talked, and at some point, I was talking to a loading bubble. Mind you, these are the same guys who claimed they were in it for something serious. I was also serious to get back to sleeping and calling it a day.

At some point, it became my bedtime routine. The constant left-swiping lulled me to sleep. It worked so much better than drinking mild hot tea and temporarily cured my insomnia. I was so pleasantly surprised at this one good thing that I bragged about it to my friends who more or less experienced the same thing.

I think “the one” that made me pull the plug and called it quits for real was this guy who was really smart, book-ish (huge bonus for me), and actually intellectually chatted in long paragraphs and was interested to hear what I have to say. He was a little self-conscious about his height, but honestly? I couldn’t have cared less. I was just happy to find someone with a functioning brain.

We eventually graduated to a Zoom “e-date” (at this point, even my mom was in on the loop and wishing me luck). It went so well. We talked about literature, our shared interests, and even my highly questionable bedroom wallpaper. I was so relieved he wasn’t one of those nauseatingly snobbish guys who tries to “out-intellectual” you or treats you like you’re beneath them.

I was actually starting to think, Wait… is this working?

But then, right before we ended the call, he said it. He actually said it.

“You’re wonderful Wani. I’ll check back with you after I filter the other three girls I’m screening.”.

I’m sorry, what? What do you mean “other three girls”? And “screening”? Was this a date or an interview for a Senior Girlfriend position? Because if we’re being professional here, what’s my expected salary? Do I get medical leave?

Do you see how wild that got? I’m convinced this has to be a one-of-a-kind, original experience. The only credit I can give the guy was how dead-serious he looked while saying it. At least he was honest about his “recruitment process,” I guess?

That was the moment. I pulled the plug, deleted both apps (Tinder was already a hopeless abyss anyway), and went back to my quiet, single student life.

Plot twist: I met my now-husband through mutual friends on Instagram not long after. Looking back, I realized that sometimes you just have to step back and let the universe do its thing. Meeting people naturally through good friends or family might feel “old school,” but it’s a whole lot better than being Shortlisted Candidate #4.